Make Me A Match (The Matchmaker) (16 page)

“It could get infected. You won’t be able to train.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I won’t let you do it. You heard
Petunia, the injury is no big deal.”

Petunia was right, the cut wasn’t deep, so why did I feel
the need to heal her? “Emma, it only hurts me for a moment.”

She glanced over her shoulder. Blood had seeped through the
sleeve of her robe, staining the white material red. Hell, when I’d lived in
London I’d seen plenty of men nearly beaten to death for a few pounds. So why
did my stomach clench now?

“Lie down, Emma. Please, let me do my job.”

She frowned, but I could tell she was starting to fold.

Before she rebuilt that wall, I went to her and took her
hand. “I don’t like to see you hurt.”

For one long moment we merely stood there, our hands
clasped, as the truth hung between us. She searched my gaze as if looking for
something. I wasn’t sure if she would find her answers, and part of me wasn’t
sure if I wanted her to. Uneasy, I shifted.

Finally, she nodded. “All right.” She pulled her hand from
mine and moved to her large bed. I didn’t miss the way her body trembled as she
tossed aside her stuffed cat and lay upon the mattress. She was in more pain
than she let on. But then shallow cuts often hurt worse.

I settled on the edge of the bed and gently rolled up her
sleeve.

“It’s your fault, you know.”

I pressed her arm gently to the mattress, using her sleeve
to soak up the blood trailing from the cut. “Really?”

She sucked in a sharp breath through clenched teeth. “Yes.
You surprised me so I wasn’t on my game. I could have easily beat Josh.”

I resisted the urge to smile. The woman hated losing. “I’m
sure you could have.”

Even though I didn’t look at her, I could feel her gaze on
me. I settled my hands over the wound, her blood warm and wet upon my palm. She
flinched.

“Shhh, it will be numb soon.”

I concentrated. My fingers grew warm, the heat spreading
from my body to hers. Slowly, ever so slowly, I could feel her skin mending, as
the pain and wound transferred from her body to mine. It was like someone was
scraping the sharp end of a nail up my arm. I didn’t flinch, didn’t even curse
as I pulled away from her, allowing the wound to transfer completely. Petunia
might have said I was insane. Yes, we could heal, but it wasn’t expected. After
all, the injury would have healed on its own; it wasn’t life-threatening. For
some reason, some insane reason, I couldn’t let her suffer.

“Owen?” Emma’s sweet voice broke through the pain. “You said
the pain would fade fast. When will it fade?”

She was on her knees, sitting beside me, her eyebrows drawn
together in concern. I stumbled to my feet, smoothing my face into an
unreadable mask. “I’m good. It’s over.”

It was a lie; the cut still throbbed. But she didn’t need to
know. If I could just escape before she noticed the sweat on my forehead, all
would be well. I turned and started toward the door. “Get some rest.”

Yeah, I could heal her. But I wouldn’t tell her the
truth…that the pain was worse for me. I wouldn’t tell her that I wasn’t
supposed to heal minor injuries because it sucked too much energy from my body,
and it would take hours for me to recuperate.

I rested my hand on the doorknob. “Try not to get hurt
again?”

“Owen,” she called out.

I paused, but didn’t dare look back. “Yeah?”

“I like you too.”

My heart slammed wildly against my rib cage. For one brief
moment, I closed my eyes and let the words ease the tightness in my chest.
Then, without response, I opened the door and left.

Emma

I pressed my face to the shop window, barely listening to
Falconer as he lectured me on the history of the town. As I watched the pretty
young Frenchwomen searching through fashionable clothing, I realized that just
last month I would have been envious. But I didn’t care about friends or clothes,
not really. No, because all I could think about was the fact that Owen hadn’t
come with us. My first trip outside the castle walls, and he hadn’t deemed it
important enough to protect me.

Not that I needed protecting, but wasn’t it part of his job?
He certainly didn’t mind lording it over me when it was to his benefit.
Now…nothing. In fact, I hadn’t heard from him since I’d admitted I liked him.
But he’d said he liked me first. What did that mean anyway…
liked?
I liked hamburgers and fries. But I didn’t make out with my
hamburger…usually.

“Emma?”

“Sorry.” I pushed away from the window, and gave Jotham and
Falconer a forced smile.

Yeah, it was great exploring the streets of France, but I
hadn’t imagined exploring with two guys old enough to make my grandmother look
young. I mean, seriously…when was the last time they’d shaved those biker
beards? And don’t get me started on the robes.

I sighed, following them down a cobblestone street too
narrow for cars. Where the heck was Owen when I needed him? I had a feeling he
was avoiding me. But then I had a lot of feelings lately, and most I didn’t
want to dwell upon. Bemused, I drew my fingers across daisies planted in a
window pot while Falconer droned on about the history of the town.

Three weeks. Almost three weeks I’d known Owen. The time had
gone by so fast, yet oddly it felt as if I’d always known him. I couldn’t
imagine my life without him ordering me around.

“You are well, my dear?” Jotham gently gripped my elbow as
we followed Falconer. The man apparently was on a mission and had no time to
wait for us. But Jotham didn’t seem to mind and kept his pace slow; the man was
all ease and smiles. He was the one person I actually liked here.

“Yeah. Sure.”

We turned down yet another cobbled road, lined with stone
buildings with brightly colored shutters. It wasn’t their fault that Owen was
avoiding me, and honestly, I did want to know about the town but I just
couldn’t concentrate.

“We certainly understand that this is all overwhelming. If
you have any questions, feel free to ask.”

“Yeah?” I slid him a glance, wondering how honest he’d be.
Even Owen had issues with giving me straight answers.

“Of course.”

“Okay.” Falconer had made it across the street, but we
paused as a moped sped by. We were far enough away that he shouldn’t be able to
overhear. “How do you become members of the Consulate?”

He smiled. “We were once Protectors.”

I nodded. Interesting, but where were their Matchmakers?
“Why aren’t you now?”

He sighed. “Well, our Matchmakers died and we never sensed
another.”

Died. One day I’d die, and apparently Matchmakers kicked the
bucket earlier than Protectors. “Owen has healed me twice now.”

I don’t know why I blurted out the truth, but there it was,
hanging in the air.

“Has he?”

I could read nothing in his tone. It was the only thing that
frustrated me about the man; there was never any judgment, which made it
awfully hard to know his opinion. Petunia had certainly given her opinion
vocally enough. She had acted as if Owen healing me was completely taboo.

“Do keep up,” Falconer called out, waving to us from the
curb across the street.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and kept pace with
Jotham. “Yeah, he has.” We started across the street. “And I know he feels my
pain. But I was wondering…I mean…why? Why does he do it? Is the Consulate okay
with the healing? Is he supposed to?”

“Well.” He folded his hands in front of him. “They don’t
encourage it.”

I’d known, hadn’t I? Petunia sure as heck hadn’t wanted him
to heal me. I had a feeling she would have preferred if I’d bled to death. But
I could admit that there was something that felt wrong about him taking my
pain. I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling guilty as hell.

“It’s a fine line,” Jotham said, “for a Protector to know
how much pain he can take, which is why we frown upon it.”

Falconer paused at the end of the street, looking annoyed
because we were so far behind. The moment we caught up with him, I’d lose my
chance to get information. “How much can a Protector take?”

“More than anyone else. They have a higher pain threshold.
But therein lies the problem. If a Protector takes too much, he could die
before he realizes it’s too late.”

The thought made me shiver. “Protectors have died from
trying to heal their Matchmakers?”

He sighed. “Yes, I’m afraid so. It’s also why the Consulate
frowns upon Protector and Matchmaker becoming too close.”

I flushed. Owen and I were close…too close, according to
him. I had a feeling Jotham knew. “So a Protector is to save himself before he
saves his Matchmaker?”

He didn’t respond and as we reached Falconer’s side, I knew
our conversation would have to end. But I had a feeling I knew what he was
implying…Matchmakers were disposable. One dies, the powers would transfer, and
another would take her place. No biggie. Protectors were, apparently, a little
more valuable. So why had Owen acted like I was so important?

“We shall stroll the streets,” Falconer said. “Let your
powers guide you.”

I nodded, and gave him a tight smile. Back to business. “Was
Owen busy?”

“Hmm?” He turned his back to me and started down the
sidewalk. “Oh, yes, a meeting of Protectors.”

I nodded, not missing the way Jotham stared at the man, as
if somewhat confused. I had a feeling they weren’t telling me everything. But
if he wasn’t at a meeting…what could be keeping him?

Petunia.

The name whispered through my mind. I ignored the taunt. As
a trio we started down the street, strolling past shops like any tourists out
for the day. Any young tourist with two creepy old guys wearing long robes.

At first I felt nothing…no emotions, no love, no magic of
any kind. But then, I wasn’t really trying. No, the city was way too
interesting to worry about my powers. How I wished I were just visiting, taking
in the sights with friends. At a bakery I paused, the scents too much to
resist. It was the same bakery I’d stood outside with Owen the first day we’d
arrived.

If Owen had been here he’d help me focus, tell me what to
look for, the signs. He could have at least told me he wouldn’t be coming
along. When Falconer had sent word that we were headed to town, I’d assumed
Owen would be there, waiting. I admit when I’d skipped down the stairs and only
Falconer and Jotham were waiting, I’d been extremely disappointed.

“Would you like to try something, my dear?” Jotham asked.

“I’m sorry, what?”

The older man smiled. “At the bakery. Are you hungry?”

Falconer looked annoyed and I started to say no, but before
I could respond Jotham latched on to my arm and led me into the shop. The place
smelled of cinnamon and chocolate, of freshly baked bread and apples. It was
heaven. Jotham spoke rapidly in French to the woman behind the counter. She
pulled out a tray of chocolate pastries, resting them on the glass countertop.
My mouth watered.

“
Delicieux
,” I
said in my pathetic French.

While the baker looked disgusted by my handle of her native
language, Jotham merely smiled down at me. “Try one.”

I didn’t need to be asked twice. I lifted a warm doughnut
with a cream-filled middle.

Jotham paid, picking up a pastry of his own. “You will not
find better food in all of the world.”

This is where I wanted to be…in a quaint French town, eating
French delicacies. And for a moment, I could forget why I was here. But I
realized with some bemusement that I wanted to be here with Owen. Heck, I
actually missed him. Together we left the shop, following Falconer down the
lane while we ate our sugary breakfast. With Owen I could be myself, say
whatever outlandish thing I wanted to, and better yet, get away with it. With
Owen I didn’t have to pretend to be polite, pretend I cared about the town’s
history or my powers.

I bit into my pastry and my thoughts in that instant
centered around how freaking good the doughnut tasted. Yep, I could get used to
living here. We turned a corner and I realized I’d fallen back, somehow losing
Falconer and Jotham ahead. I quickened my steps.

The crowds grew thicker and someone bumped into me, sending
me off-balance. My ankle twisted as I teetered off the curb. The world around
me spun.

“
Pardon
,” the
person who hit me muttered, hurrying on.

“Do you feel anything?” Falconer asked, pausing ahead.

I tried to focus on the man, tried to focus on his voice. As
far away as he was, I could still tell by the look upon his face that he was
growing annoyed with my lack of supernatural abilities. I felt like a freaking
circus monkey, forced to perform.

I shook my head but it wasn’t exactly true. My brain was
growing muddled, the noise around fading into a pulsing murmur of sound. Faces
before me blurred out of focus. My hand dropped to my side, the pastry falling
to the ground as my powers came whispering into the forefront.
Crap
.

Falconer was suddenly beside me. “Focus, my dear.”

I tamped down my annoyance as I scanned the crowds. Someone
moved by me, their shoulder brushing mine. It was a whisper of a touch, but it
was enough. Suddenly everything went calm. The voices receded, the world faded.
Drawn to her, I turned, my gaze focused on that woman. Her long dark hair
swayed as she moved further away, weaving in and out of the crowds. Without
thought, I followed.

Vaguely, I could hear Jotham and Falconer calling after me,
but I couldn’t seem to stop. Couldn’t focus on anything but that woman. My
heart slammed against my ribs, my blood roaring in my ears, urging me onward as
I wove between people, darting across the street, barely aware of the oncoming
traffic. I had to see her,
must
match
her.

The woman turned down a lane. So did I. The crowds faded.
The sound of the city disappeared. She turned down a narrow alley and of course
I followed. Vaguely, I was aware of how stupid it was to head down a dark alley
after a stranger, but I couldn’t seem to stop.

“Excuse me,” I called out. “
Pardon
.”

The woman paused and glanced back, her dark eyes curious,
and wary. “
Oui
?”

I didn’t stop when I reached her, but boldly grasped her
hand. She drew back, startled, but I didn’t let go. I couldn’t. I needed to
touch her. Lord, she was beautiful…her skin practically sparkling. Before I
could get over my shock, an image flashed to mind.

A man flashed before my
eyes. A pub. A man serving drinks, laughing, smiling. A handsome man who
enjoyed life.

Lyon.

The words whispered through my mind.

Le Petite Café.

Just as quickly as the premonition had arrived, it
disappeared. The fog faded from my brain and the world came sharply into focus.
“The Petite Café,” I gasped out.

The woman jerked her hand away. “No.”

“Lyon,” I said. “You must go to Lyon.”

She shook her head, confused, and I understood the look in
her eyes only too well…she thought I was insane. I didn’t blame her. God, this
would be so much easier if Owen were here to help.

“Do you understand? Lyon
.
To
Le Petite Café.
”

“I think I understand,” she said in a thick accent.
“But…it’s impossible. Isn’t it?”

It didn’t matter if she could barely speak English. All that
mattered was she understood. I grinned, feeling relieved, as if I’d awoken from
a deep sleep. “No, not impossible. He’s there. You’ve dreamed of him…a guy with
dark hair, a small scar.” I pointed toward my chin.

The confusion cleared and realization lit her brown eyes.
The woman pressed her hand to her mouth, stifling a cry as tears filled her
gaze. “
Oui
. Yes.”

“He’s there. Your…true love.” I felt like an idiot even
saying the words, but oddly she seemed to believe me.

“Lyon?” the woman repeated.

I nodded. “Yes. Go.”

“
Merci
.”
The woman drew me close and gave me a
quick hug.

“Oh, okay, you like to hug.” I patted her awkwardly on the
back.

“
Merci
!”
She released her hold and dashed down
the alley, leaving me behind. Just like that, it was over…the calm after a
storm. I shoved my hands into my jeans pockets and looked up at the sky, my
body light, my heart soaring. This was it. This was what it felt like to fall
in love. I didn’t want to admit it, and I sure as heck wasn’t going to wax
poetic about it, but I savored the feel of the match. It made me, dare I
say…happy to help others?

With a grin, I turned back toward the street. “Jotham, did
you see…” My voice trailed off. Jotham and Falconer weren’t there. The alley
was empty.

Crap, I’d probably lost them and would have to fumble my way
back to the castle. I started toward the street. I’d assumed they would follow,
was shocked they hadn’t. When I reached the street, it was to see that it was
completely empty. No one was there. I paused in the middle of the cobbled lane.
I could hear voices, conversations, laughter, the rumble of cars and mopeds…but
where? I could hear the noise of the town…somewhere. Where the hell was
everyone?

I started down the road. Panic wedged itself into my gut.
Something was wrong. Really, really wrong. The more I walked, the quieter the
voices became. The bakery stood to my right, the castle loomed above, but the
faster I raced toward that familiar sight, the farther away it seemed to be. I
froze, gasping for air.