Grave Attraction (5 page)

Speaking of collars, he was down to his last one, since the police had taken two into evidence. They'd cost him a fortune, fashioned by a woman who proclaimed herself a sorceress. After paying a king's ransom for the collars, he'd killed the foul bitch a few days later with a bullet to the brain.

“We're out of ham,” Elias called out from the kitchen, and Jeremiah strained for patience.

It wasn't his brother's fault he'd been born on the shallow end of the gene pool. What he lacked in intelligence he made up for in strength, and the extra muscle often came in handy.

“There's peanut butter in the pantry,” Jeremiah replied as he switched off the light in the bathroom and walked down the hallway leading to his office. While he waited for his computer to power up, his thoughts trailed back to his prey.

He still couldn't figure out how the female had gotten hold of the phone. He could have sworn he'd set it back in the cradle to recharge after talking to Elias. Could she possibly possess some form of telekinesis? He'd never encountered a creature with the skill, but that didn't make it impossible. But if she did, why didn't she use the ability to unlock her cage?

Frustrated, he shook the thought off. He'd learn the answer when he recaptured her. Right now, his only goal was to evade arrest. In time, the police and the press would shift their attention elsewhere, leaving him free to resume his crusade.

Then he'd find her. It wouldn't be hard. By now he knew her better than she knew herself. He knew where she lived, shopped, ate, and worked out. Knew where to find all of her friends and family.

And once he recaptured her, he'd finish what he already started.

L
ater that afternoon, Adam and Dmitri drove to an exclusive neighborhood in the outskirts of Orlando, home to celebrities, executives, golf pros, and, apparently, one of the most powerful supernatural beings in the state.

“You've got to be kidding me,” Adam said as they turned right off the main road. Immaculate landscaping framed the front entrance, where a pair of fountains shot water twenty feet into the air. “Witches live in gated communities?”

Dmitri stared at him like he was stuck on stupid. “Where did you think they lived?”

“I don't know, but it wasn't here.” Actually, he'd expected an old, weathered house in the woods along the outskirts of town. There was a community just like it about an hour north of Orlando, a tight-knit group of Wiccans and spiritualists who valued their privacy while practicing their craft.

When they stopped at the security gate, Dmitri tapped a five-digit code onto the keypad. The light on the keypad switched from red to green, and the wrought-iron gates slowly swung open. A short drive later, they pulled into the driveway leading to a massive white two-story house with a wraparound porch and dark green shutters. On the side of the building was a garage large enough to hold at least four vehicles. A lush carpet of grass covered most of the yard, where an old woman crouched over a bed of bright red flowers. Her head snapped up at the rumble of Dmitri's car, a smile brightening her flushed face when she waved.

“Mitya!” The old woman wiped sweat from her brow as she stood. She appeared to be in her early to mid-seventies, dressed in khaki shorts and a plain white tee. A floppy straw hat protected her face from the scorching summer sun. Her smile widened while she walked toward them, stripping off her gardening gloves and shoving them into her pocket. As soon as she got close enough, Dmitri opened his arms and hugged her.

The witch might have been old, but she was far from frail. Even from several feet away, Adam felt the pulse of power radiating from her body. In his years as a reaper, he'd never experienced anything quite like it.

“It's nice to see you, Cassandra,” Dmitri said when they broke contact. Genuine affection warmed his voice. “You look good.”

The old woman's head cocked to one side as if noticing something out of order. “Mitya, what happened?” Her voice carried a thick Southern accent. “Your aura, it's . . . different.” Cassandra stepped closer, her eyes squinting while she studied him. Then her mouth dropped open, her blue eyes popping wide when the pieces must have clicked in her mind. “You—you're mortal! How is that even possible?”

“Long story.” Typical Dmitri. After two years of trying, Adam
still
hadn't managed to worm the full explanation from the former reaper.

The witch's gaze tracked down to the gold band on his finger. “And married. I think that shocks me even more. Who's the lucky lady?”

Much to Adam's surprise, Dmitri dug out his wallet and showed Cassandra a picture of his wife. Gwen was back at the house keeping an eye on Samuel, and Adam couldn't help but wonder how the two were getting along.

“Hmm. I can see why she caught your eye.” A hint of disappointment bled into her voice, as if she had someone else in mind for the big Russian. “And judging by the looks of you, she's making you very happy.”

Was Dmitri blushing? With his skin tone, it was hard to tell for certain. “I'll bring her around for you to meet.”

“I'd like that.” The old witch gestured toward Adam. “And who's this young buck? Is he my new contact with the hereafter?”

Dmitri made a sound in the back of his throat. “This is Adam. He's green, so take it easy on him.”

“Oh, now where's the fun in that?” She let out a bawdy laugh before shaking his hand. “It's nice to meet you, Adam. So what brings you boys here today? More demon troubles?”

“It's a little more complicated than that,” Dmitri said.

Cassandra grinned. “Sounds like fun. Why don't y'all come on inside. It's hotter than Hades out here. I'll pour us some sweet tea while you fill me in.”

Once inside the house, she led them past the foyer and into a wide-open living area filled with comfortable-looking furniture. A plush burgundy couch and two leather recliners were arranged in front of a wall-mounted television that took up nearly half of one wall. To the left, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves were loaded beyond capacity with paperbacks, hardcovers, and a motley assortment of knickknacks. A gray and white cat lounged on the glass coffee table, its tail swishing back and forth.

After sweating his butt off outside, the air-conditioning felt like a slice of pure heaven. A Chicago native, Adam still hadn't gotten used to the Florida heat and humidity. He'd just settled down on one of the recliners when the front door swung open and a young woman entered.

“Cassie, I'm back!” the woman called out as she closed and locked the door behind her. She wore tight-fitting denim and a clingy red blouse with a neckline that showed a lot of cleavage. Her long blond hair was pulled back in a braid, and a pair of sunglasses covered her eyes. As she strolled past the foyer and into the living room, she pushed the glasses to the top of her head, and Adam's mouth went dry.

It was the woman he'd saved at the shuttered house. She looked a lot different cleaned up and fully clothed. Harder. Sharper. Sensual. Her brilliant amber eyes scanned the room, and in an instant they went from friendly to foreboding. “Oh. Dmitri.”

“Marlena.” The former reaper's fingers half curled into fists.

“You two play nice,” Cassandra warned as she emerged from the kitchen with a silver tray holding three glasses of iced tea. “I'm not in the mood to replace any more furniture.”

Dmitri raised his hands in a show of reluctant surrender. “As you wish.”

“Fine by me,” Marlena bit out.

Still, tension charged the air like an approaching storm. Adam was itching to know what had caused the bad blood, but he decided to hold his tongue until they were back on the road. Most likely, Dmitri wouldn't tell him a damn thing, but who knew? Maybe he'd get lucky.

Marlena turned on her heel and stalked into the kitchen, returning less than a minute later with a can of Mountain Dew in her left hand. She stared darts at Dmitri while she crossed the room, stopping to sit on the armrest of the couch where Cassandra was resting. With her free hand, she pointed toward the recliner where Adam sat. “Who's he?”

“I'm sorry, where are my manners?” Cassandra gave an apologetic smile. “Marlena, this is Adam. He's Dmitri's replacement.”

“Replacement, huh?” She smiled. “Looks like my day just got better.” She gave no indication that she recognized Adam. Good. The memory block must be holding. Her eyes moved over him in a businesslike appraisal before extending her slender hand. A weathered gold band circled her right ring finger, one that hadn't been there a few days before. “Nice to meet you.”

When they shook, it seemed like a jolt of electricity traveled the length of his arm. For a small woman, her grip was strong. Her skin felt soft and she smelled faintly of vanilla.

What was it about her that made every nerve in his body rev with awareness? He'd never experienced anything like it. Sure, she was an attractive woman, but there was more to it than that. Something deep inside him stirred, as if he knew her already and yearned to reestablish the connection.

“So what brings you here today?” Marlena asked as she drew her hand away and snapped Adam back to reality.

“Business.” Dmitri shot her an indifferent look before redirecting his attention to Cassandra. “Is there someplace private where we can discuss matters?”

Marlena's eyes thinned to slits at the blatant dismissal.

“You know you can trust Marlena,” Cassandra said, the warning back in her voice. “Anything spoken in her presence will be kept in the strictest confidence.”

“Understood.” But Dmitri didn't seem happy about it. He paused long enough to drink some tea and set the glass on the coffee table. “One of our associates had his powers stripped. We need to find out who's responsible and how to reverse the effects.”

Cassandra arched one eyebrow. “I've never heard of such a thing occurring to one of your kind. What led to this?”

“We don't know. Adam found the man passed out in the backyard, and he claims not to remember what happened.”

Lips pressed, Cassandra fiddled with the thin metal chain hanging around her neck. “It would be a lot easier to get you an answer if you'd brought him along with you. Is there a reason why he's not here?”

Dmitri's expression remained a blank slate, giving absolutely nothing away. “He has enemies. We're keeping him in a secure location until we know exactly what we're dealing with.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a clear plastic sandwich bag. “I brought a sample of his hair. Will that suffice?”

Cassandra opened the bag and inspected the contents. “Blood would have been better, but I suppose I can make this work.” Peering up, she met the former reaper's dark gaze. “If I do this for you, we're even.”

“Of course. When can we expect the results?”

She hesitated as if thinking it over. “That depends on whether I have all of the necessary supplies. Best case scenario? Two days.”

Oh, hell no. The thought of Samuel in his house for two more days made Adam's right eye twitch. There had to be a way to get this done faster. He opened his mouth to ask, but Dmitri cut him off. “Two days is sufficient.” He stood, and Adam followed his lead. “Call me as soon as you're finished or if you need anything else.”

 

Marlena peered through a space between the curtains, watching Adam get in the passenger side of Dmitri's car. As he fastened the seat belt, his focus shifted in her direction, and she could have sworn she felt the heat from his gaze.

Cassie walked up beside her and followed her line of sight. “You know him.” A statement rather than a question.

Eyes still riveted to the retreating vehicle, Marlena nodded. It took every ounce of her self-control to keep from running down the driveway after him. “He's the one I told you about, the one who gave me the phone so I could call the police.”

Cassie laid a hand on her shoulder. The old witch's grip wasn't as strong as it used to be, but it still gave her a world of comfort. “He acted like he didn't know you, and you never called him on it. Why?”

Good question, and one she didn't know the answer for. Recollection had swept over her the instant she laid eyes on him, followed by something far deeper and much more intense. It was a wonder she hadn't felt it at the killer's house. Maybe the silver collar, or the stress of the situation, had hindered her ability to make the connection.

But this time ... oh yeah, this time was different. She recognized him, plain as day now, for what he truly was. Not as a reaper, or as an agent of Death, or even as an immortal being. He was taller, leaner, with darker hair and a darker complexion. But his deep brown eyes were exactly as she remembered them from so many years ago.

How was that even possible?

When Dmitri's car drove out of view, she turned away from the window. Cassie was still watching her, concern deepening the wrinkles on her face.

“Sweetie, what's troubling you?” the old witch asked.

Marlena shook her head. “Nothing. It's just—do you think it's possible for a soul to be reborn?”

“You mean reincarnation?” Cassie tapped one finger against her lips. “I've never run across an actual case, but that doesn't mean it's impossible.”

Those shrewd blue eyes locked onto Marlena, coming close to making her squirm. “You think you knew him in another lifetime?”

“Yeah. I do.” As crazy as it sounded, she couldn't think of a more plausible explanation. Over four hundred years had passed since she'd last experienced that kind of connection. One that sank right into her bones, dug in deep, and refused to let go. The body and face were totally different, but the soul inside called out to her in a way she simply couldn't ignore.

The last time she'd felt it was in 1611. They'd been tied to a stake with their backs to each other, their fingertips barely touching as the flames licked up from the pyre.

When it was over, the townspeople had dumped their charred bodies at the outskirts of the small town in the northern region of the Holy Roman Empire. Only she hadn't died. For nearly a week, she'd suffered excruciating pain while her body recuperated from the burns. And when she'd finally healed, she buried what was left of Christopher Johannes Walther. Her lover.

Her husband.

Her soul mate.

“Oh, my God, that's wonderful news!” Cassie grinned from ear to ear after learning the truth about Adam's prior identity. The grin faded, though, when she noticed Marlena's unease. “Wait, I don't understand. What's the problem?”

Wasn't it obvious? “He's . . . different. And he doesn't remember who I am.”

“Well, a lot of time's gone by, and who knows how many times he's been reborn. For all we know, his memories might get wiped clean every single time. And to be fair, I'm sure you're not the same woman you were four hundred years ago either.”

“True.” But at least she remembered who he was. Like it was yesterday, she remembered every single thing about him. The way he smelled, the way his body moved. The way he looked at her with such unrestrained passion every single time they'd made love. Each memory was a bittersweet treasure that brought her both comfort and pain.