Vengeance Borne (34 page)

Micah nodded and cast a stoic gaze at the three Sentry members as they gathered their things to leave. This was obviously far from over, but he’d bought them some time. Right now, they had Furies to banish and a host to kill. After that, they could face the Sentry together, a united front.
Tackle this situation like you’d eat an elephant
, Micah reminded himself.
One bite at a time
.

Trish walked into the kitchen. Not her usual self, but her expression brightened a little. “You ran ‘em off, huh? Good boy. That Celeste Park is a stupid, know-nothing pain in the ass if you ask me. And only works where she does because she’s too chicken-shit to get her ass out there in the field.”

“Yeah, well, they’ll be back,” Micah said. “Especially if we don’t get rid of these Furies. She gave us until the full moon to do it.”

“Only a few days.” Trish busied herself with cleaning up the discarded dishes. “Not much time.”

“We can do it though, right?”

“Of course, we can do it,” Trish snorted.

“Is it always this hard to hunt Furies?”

Trish abandoned the dishes and slumped down in her chair. Her neat and tidy hair had slowly unwound from its bun, framing her crêpe paper face in wispy silver strands. Folding her hands in front of her, she turned her weary gaze on Micah. “Not usually. But Furies are very unpredictable. It all depends on the human, you see. Furies feed on a person’s soul, what they take from their other victims is just dessert. Whoever summoned them has been very crafty indeed.”

Micah fiddled with his spoon, stirring his coffee before he tapped it on the rim of the mug. “How is she?” he asked, his voice low.

“Lethargic. Ignoring me. The usual.”

“Do you think she’ll be okay?”

“Eventually.”

He took Trish’s hand in his and gently squeezed. “Are
you
going to be okay?”

The hint of a smile curved her lips. “It’ll take a helluva lot more than this to break me, kiddo.” She squeezed Micah’s hand and stood to resume her cleaning, their conversation, dismissed.

Micah took the stairs one at time, each step requiring a conscious effort thanks to his depleted strength. Healing someone on the verge of death took a shit-ton of energy. The guest bedroom door had been left ajar, a dark shadow spilling out into the hall. Hinges creaked as he pushed his way into the bedroom. Jacquelyn was still wearing the clothes from the day before and the smell of dried blood caused Micah’s stomach to clench reflexively. Her chest rose and fell in an even rhythm, hitching occasionally with a silent hiccup. He could tell by her swollen eyes she’d cried most of the night. Maybe his influence only worked when he was near.

The wood floors squeaked beneath his feet, and he lowered himself to the bed, careful not to jostle her. His fingers grazed her forehead as he smoothed tangled curls from her face, his touch lingered against her skin, tracing a line to her chin. This woman—this Waerd, hunter, or whatever the hell else they wanted to call her—was the frightened girl of his dreams, the tortured soul of his nightmares and the rock-solid companion of his reality. So many sides to her, untapped dimensions waiting to be discovered. And despite her pain and all that had happened, he felt the strength in her just below the surface of her emotions.

“Stop staring at me,” she mumbled, her eyes still shut. “It’s creeping me out.”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“I know.” Micah shifted, putting some distance between them.

“Then why the hell did you ask?”

“I don’t know. Just the obligatory check-on-your-local-hunter-house-call. I’m sorry.”

She peeked through one eye and fixed him with a bloodshot stare. “If you’re really sorry, you’ll give me a nice, big dose of numb.”

Again? What happened to the too tough, my-emotions-are-mine girl he’d met when he first came to town?
She’s drowning in a lake of grief, you moron. She’s been forced to relive the worst memories of her past, her boyfriend was practically torn to shreds and despite the fact you showed up in the nick of time, you almost didn’t save him
. It couldn’t hurt to give her what she wanted. To make her feel nothing for a little while. But later, when she wasn’t in pain, she wouldn’t thank him for it. “I shouldn’t.” He stood to give her a little more space. “You want that void now because it hurts so much. But later—you’ll resent me for doing it.”

“No I won’t.” Her voice, raw and hoarse, tore at his emotions. “I need to keep a level head to work. If I’m weepy and falling apart, it’s not going to help anyone.”

Micah could see the logic in her words though he knew they lacked conviction. “If you don’t face this head on, you’ll never have any closure.”

“Sure, I will.” Jacquelyn pushed herself to a sitting position and met him head on. “Later. When this is done and I don’t have to worry about Furies raising hell all over the county. I’ll deal with my past, what happened to Ryan, Finn… and my role in all of it later. But for now, I want to be empty. Just do it, okay?”

“No.”

“No?” Her tone bordered on incredulous and Micah felt the chill of her building anger. “No?” she repeated. “You don’t get to tell me no. You do what I say.”

“You might scare Finn with that spiel, but it won’t work on me.”

“Don’t talk about him!” The words burst from her in a near-scream and a wave of rage rolled off of her with such intensity that Micah wobbled on his feet. “What happened to him is my fault.
Mine
.” She pounded her open palm against her chest. “You might think you know me because you can climb inside my head and roam around like you’re window shopping or some shit, but you don’t know me. Not even a little bit.”

“It’s not your fault.”

She snorted and her disdain pelted him like hail. “You’re so naïve, Micah.”

He knew she was lashing out at him to deflect her own feelings but Micah refused to let her get away with it. “So that’s it, huh? Things get tough and now you’re running scared. Well you know what? Bad shit happens. All the time. And not everyone has the luxury of opting out of feeling anything. Normal people deal with those emotions. So should you.”

Her eyes narrowed to hateful slits. “Go to hell.”

Micah quirked a brow. “That’s all you got?”

She leaned forward and stared him down. Her raging emotions stole his breath, and Micah’s head began to pound like his brain was looking for a way out. “Do it or get the hell out of my territory.”

“Jacquelyn—”

“Micah, you are my Bearer. Mine. You work for
me
. And I’m telling you to bear my pain.”

“Is that an order?”

“Yes. Do it and then leave me alone so I can get my shit together and we can get back to work.”

He felt every ounce of her resolve. Closed for discussion. Micah might have lost the battle, but not the war. Though he was about to give her exactly what she wanted, he’d gotten his point across and that was good enough. Her anger settled back into sorrow and he felt the weight of it in a way that pressed his shoulders toward the floor. She was so much stronger than she gave herself credit for. So much more than she believed she was. Sooner or later, he’d help her to recognize her own strength. But now, now he’d give her some peace.

He knew he didn’t have to touch her, but Micah knelt beside the bed and cupped her face in his hands. Eyes closed, he pressed his lips to her forehead, drawing every bit of emotion from her, even the ones she didn’t realize she was feeling. A light-headed rush sent him reeling back, and he gasped. “Whoa, that was intense.”

“Thanks, Micah,” Jacquelyn said dreamily. “Now get out. I’ll be down after a while.”

As Micah walked back into the kitchen, Trish set a plate of pancakes, eggs, and bacon in front of him and asked, “How’d it go?”

“As well as can be expected,” he said, mirroring her earlier words.

“That good, huh? Well, she wasn’t sent here because of her congenial personality,” Trish replied.

Rather than respond, Micah bestowed his full attention on breakfast. He wouldn’t have to give Trish a play–by-play of their conversation if his mouth was full of pancake. Quiet moments passed, and he realized he didn’t need to tell Trish he didn’t want to talk. She sensed his emotions and knew better than to press him. For so many years, he’d pushed against the inevitability of his life. And again he found himself thankful for those same gifts he’d shunned. If only he’d come to this small town ten years ago.

“Something smells good,” Jacquelyn said, taking the stairs with bouncing steps. “Is there enough for me, Trish? I’m starving.”

Micah looked from Jacquelyn to Trish and back to his plate. He hated to see Jacquelyn like this: vapid, without a care in the world.

“So.” She took a seat beside him. “Whadya say? Breakfast and then straight to work?”

“If you say so,” Micah grumbled. “You’re the boss.”

“That’s right,” she said. “I am.”

Chapter 27

“YOU JUST KEEP me in fighting shape, Micah, and we’ll be fine.”

Jacquelyn still looked like death warmed over, but her eyes had lost the deep look of hurt, replaced by an empty, almost glistening light. A wave of guilt crashed over Micah, knowing he was the cause of her emptiness when she’d so passionately professed her need to feel something when they first met. But he wasn’t about to question her decision. He’d make her face her emotions head on later. For now, if this was the only way for her to work, then so be it. Finn was still unconscious, but his prognosis was good. They had a small window of opportunity to rid McCall of its Fury problem. They were still at square one and he had a feeling if they didn’t discover the identity of the Furies’ host, more deaths would follow. Tackling the issue head-on seemed much better than facing the alternative.

They drove through town in Jacquelyn’s Subaru, passing down Main Street, circling each tiny block back to the center of town and starting over again. Micah felt a lot like a hamster in a wheel. “Would you mind telling me what we’re doing, just driving around town like this?”

“Hunting—sort of.”

“Sure. Okay. What are we hunting for?”

“
You’re
hunting, Micah.” She turned the corner, taking Colorado Street for the third time. “We’re like a submarine, and you’re the sonar. Send those little feelers of yours out there and see what bounces back.”

Oh great. Not only had he spent the morning monitoring Jacquelyn’s emotions, now he was responsible for scanning the rest of the town as well. Micah sighed, trying to keep his frustration to a minimum. “Okay, but can you slow down a little? Right now I’m getting blurry flashes of feeling.”

“This isn’t working,” Jacquelyn said as she pulled out onto West Lake Street. “The chances our guy is just hanging around town are slim to none. I just don’t know what else to do at this point. Furies are almost impossible to track.”

“Okay, well, let’s look at this logically.” He agreed with her that driving around like a submarine wasn’t working.

“I can do that.” Jacquelyn turned onto an unmarked street that led to the lake, its vast smooth surface as smooth as glass and reflecting the mountains beyond. “Our host has a grudge, obviously. And is taking out his frustration on people he thinks have wronged him somehow.”

“Okay,” Micah replied. “So what connects all of the victims? When we figure that out, it should help us determine who’s behind the attacks.”

“Maybe,” she said absently. “The problem with a small town is that everyone can be connected to everyone somehow.”

“Can you think of any connections between the victims that throw up any red flags?”

Jacquelyn shook her head. “Not really. I mean, Willie’s owned the lumber yard forever, and Bree grew up here. They’re sort of local fixtures.”

“So is Finn,” Micah pointed out. “Didn’t you say he grew up here?”

“Yeah,” Jacquelyn said. “He did. So maybe our guy is a native, too. Someone who grew up here or has lived here for a long time.”

“It’s a start,” Micah said. “And it probably narrows down potential suspects. What about grudges? Do you know of anyone who has it out for Finn?”

“No. Finn has always been well-liked. I can’t imagine anyone having a grudge against him. Bree on the other hand was the town gossip. She probably pissed people off on a daily basis. And Willie, from what I hear, he was a pretty nasty drunk and hit his wife. I can’t imagine he was very well-liked, either.”

“What about Willie’s wife?”

“Christy?” Jacquelyn asked. “No. She’s super sweet and sort of shy. I’m sure she was miserable, but she’s not the type.”

Micah cocked his head to the side. “What type?”

“You know, angry. Vindictive. Petty.”

“Gotcha. I hate to say it, but a town gossip might’ve come in handy right about now. Nosey people are good for dishing dirt on their neighbors.”

“You’re right,” Jacquelyn said. “I probably should have paid more attention to what Bree said at work. Too late for that now, I guess.”

Micah didn’t like her detached, uncaring tone, but the void was what she wanted and that’s what he’d given her. “Let’s park for a while.” McCall wasn’t that big. Besides, he was starting to get dizzy from circling the small downtown area. “It’s almost lunch time; there should be a fair amount of people out and about. Maybe I’ll pick up on something unusual.”

Jacquelyn pulled into a graveled parking lot and killed the engine. “We can walk down the street to Sinkers. It’s a hot spot for lunch.”

“Sinkers?” Didn’t sound too appetizing to him.

“It’s a sub shop,” Jacquelyn laughed. “Come on.”

Though the sound of her laughter beat the sound of sorrow by leaps and bounds, it possessed a hollow quality that set Micah on edge. As numb as he’d made her, he wondered how she could feel anything at all, let alone amusement.

A warm autumn sun shone bright in a clear blue sky, the leaves on the trees lining the sidewalk finally turning from luscious green to vibrant reds, yellows, and oranges. A light breeze stirred the dust in little swirls that teased the ankles of lunch-hour pedestrians. All around them Micah felt a sense of ease and contentment. People happy with their lots in life and the small town they’d settled in. How could it be that someone among them harbored evil in their soul?