Marked by Passion (32 page)

"And you still automatically wanted to kick butt." She shook her head. "You don't know how cool that is. All I know how to do is calligraphy. And I mix a mean sex on the beach. So what got you started in martial arts?"

"My dad. Do you go back to Iowa very often?"

"I think you should teach."

I rolled my eyes. "You're like a blond pit bull. Let go of the bone already."

She grinned. "I think you seriously underestimate the hero worship I've got going on here. I've always wanted to learn some sort of martial art."

Gripping the mug, I swallowed thickly. I knew she wouldn't drop it, and though I didn't want to tell her—or anyone for that matter—I couldn't let her go on thinking I was something I wasn't. "If you really knew me, you'd know I'm not worthy of any type of hero worship. And fighting isn't fun. It's hard and painful and scarring."

She shrugged. "I can take a couple scars."

"Emotionally scarring." I took a sip of tea to steady myself.

"How?" she asked relentlessly.

"There are"—I paused to find the right word— "consequences to having knowledge like this. There's responsibility."

"Life is full of responsibility," she replied philosophically.

"Not like this." Not when your actions dictated whether or not someone continued to live. "I wouldn't want to pass that curse on to anyone."

She stared at me, a frown furrowing her forehead. Then she shook her head with conviction. "From the first day I met you at the bar, I knew you had a core of steel. For you, it's not a curse. It's just who you are. And you're good at it. You need to stop seeing it as an albatross around your neck and see it as what it really is."

"What is it?"

"The thing that makes you unique and powerful. What makes you
you."

My birthmark tingled, and a shiver ran up my spine. It was like she was talking about the Guardianship. In my head, I heard Wu's voice say,
The first step, Gabrielle, is acceptance.

If I didn't know better, I would have suspected her of being a plant. If Wu were going to trust anyone, a strawberry blonde from the Midwest would be it. Only he didn't trust anyone, and he'd never recruit help—no matter how dire the situation.

As I stared into Carrie's big, guileless eyes, I knew she was right. I had to buck up and decide to do this. Well. Because so far I'd approached the whole thing in a half-assed manner that not only almost caused me to go insane but got me indebted to a dubious man. Oh—and did I mention that the scroll I was supposed to be safeguarding was still missing?

But decide to do something I'd spent so many years resenting? I didn't know.

Carrie gazed at me, waiting for my response. I nodded. "I see what you're saying."

"I know." She smiled at my frown. "It's not like you're stupid."

Sometimes that was debatable.

"And about teaching me some moves?" She waved her hands around in a poor imitation of
The Matrix.

"Um, can I think about it?" I just wasn't ready to become Wu yet.

"Of course." She grinned brightly. "That's all I can ask for. I do want to tell you I'd be the ideal student. You tell me to wax off and I won't question you."

Laughing, I untangled my legs and stood up. "Good to know."

She stood and followed me to the kitchenette. "I'm so happy you thought to call and stop by. Let's do this again, okay? I enjoyed myself."

"I did, too," I said, shocked that I actually meant it. I set the mug by the shallow sink and retrieved my jacket.

Carrie gave me a quick hug by the door. "Be safe."

Zipping up my coat, I headed to the Muni stop on Van Ness to catch the 49 back to the Mission. But a hunger pang made me get off at Market Street, and I walked to It's Tops for fries and a Coke. I splurged on a piece of chocolate cake, which I got to take away.

Instead of taking Muni or a cab, I walked home. I should have been too tired—or too serene from my little trip into the normal world of having a friend—but I felt wired and jittery. Like something loomed in the foreground, waiting to pounce on me.

"I feel a disturbance in the Force," I said to myself in an effort to lighten the feeling.

I didn't feel comforted when my birthmark pricked.

Somehow, however, I made it home without incident. I was congratulating myself as I ascended my porch steps when a shadow by my front door moved. I tensed for a moment, but I instinctively knew who it was. It was in the way my body came to life.

"Hello, love," Rhys said, leaning against the door.

Wary, I stopped just out of his reach. "Why are you here?"

Without a word he pulled me to him and lifted my chin to meet his gaze. His other hand slipped under my clothes, hot and insistent on my back.

His mouth hovered a breath away from mine, and I melted in anticipation. Knowing his kiss would be explosive, I grabbed his lapels to brace myself and squirmed closer. If only there were fewer clothes between us. A lot fewer clothes.

But then he lifted his head and studied me, his thoughts inscrutable.

I asked the obvious. "Why did you stop?"

"Because I wanted to leave you wanting more." He retracted his hand from my back, a slow caress that I felt all through my body, and stepped around me.

"More? I didn't get any." I gawked in disbelief as he headed down the porch steps. "That's it? You're leaving?"

His smile was enigmatic as he walked toward his car, which I now noticed parked down the block.

Standing there, I watched him drive off. If I weren't careful, he'd slowly steal my heart, piece by piece.

Scary thing was, I was afraid he'd made pretty good headway already.

C
ursing Rhys, I let the evening air cool my overheated body. He'd succeeded in leaving me wanting more—a lot more.

"Bastard," I muttered as I went inside my shack. At least I had cake. If you couldn't have sex, chocolate was the next-best thing.

I dropped my jacket on the floor and headed to the kitchen to get a fork. I was almost through the archway when I realized something was wrong. Frowning, I turned around.

Wu sat on the futon, shaking his head. "Gabrielle, you have to get your head out of the clouds and into the present."

Actually, he was hovering more than sitting, but I found it hard to care about semantics at the moment. "Where did you come from? Are you okay?"

He ignored me and continued with his ranting. "I could have been a hired assassin waiting to kill you. You could have been dead by now."

"How did you get back?" I tried again. "I thought you went hand in hand with the scroll."

"At least you were listening to that much." He gestured next to him on the futon.

The scroll.

It looked like a tattered piece of parchment, benign and unimpressive, and I'd never felt so relieved to see anything in my life. I set the cake on my dresser and hurried to the futon, stopping abruptly as I reached for the scroll. I hadn't managed to unlock
tu ch’i
yet—if I touched it, would it come rushing back? I wanted to be prepared. "Tell me something. How come my powers didn't decrease while the scroll was, um, gone?"

"Losing the scroll only magnifies
tu ch’i
so you're more able to retrieve it."

No wonder. I'd been right. "How do you know?"

"Your inattentiveness will have to stop," he said as if I hadn't asked a question. "No one has ever lost the scroll in the history of our family.
No one."

And I was a disappointment—I could read between his lines. I couldn't disagree with him this time. Not only did I lose the scroll, but I didn't do anything to get it back—it returned on its own.

I frowned. Actually, since it couldn't walk, someone had to have returned it. Only one person came to mind— the same person who accosted me on my doorstep and kissed me senseless.

Rhys.

Ignoring the pain constricting my chest, I turned to Wu to verify what I suspected. "Where have you been?"

"You're too trusting." He pointed a transparent finger at me. "I knew you should have kept away from that man, but—"

"What man?" I asked hoarsely, needing to hear it.

"The one you brought home that night. The hoodlum."

The hoodlum I brought home? Rhys would never be mistaken for a hoodlum, and I hadn't brought him home until after Wu and the scroll were already gone. That meant— "Jesse?"

Wu shrugged. "Is that his name?"

"It's not possible." I shook my head, gaping. "I never told Jesse about the scroll."

"He knew." Wu's brows drew together. "I just don't understand why he brought it back."

"I don't understand any of this." Even as I said it, I remembered that night I thought I was being followed and found out it was only Jesse. Had he actually been following me? I frowned. But we'd known each other for a couple years—way before I got the scroll. And I'd never mentioned it—
that
I was certain of.

With the exception of the night I asked him what he'd do if he inherited an heirloom he didn't really want.

My heart clenched.

"No. I can't believe that." There had to be some kind of explanation, like maybe he found it, realized it was mine, and simply returned it. I scooped my jacket off the floor as I headed for the door. "I'm going to find out what's going on."

"Wait a minute."

I looked over my shoulder as I shrugged on my coat.

"You can't just leave the scroll lying here."

Rolling my eyes, I strode to the futon. I hesitated for a split second before I grabbed it. I held my breath, hoping nothing happened while also wishing that the contact would unlock my safe place. But all I felt was
tu ch’i
tapping on the trap door, as if it were testing it to find a way out. My mental safe held strong.

With mixed feelings, I took the scrap of paper and stuck it back in the fridge.

"Yes, that is ever so much better." Sarcasm dripped from his every word.

I didn't bother to reply. I had to find Jesse to get some answers. I fished my cell out of my pocket and tried calling him, but he didn't answer. I'd have to go to his flat. I paused halfway out the door and then turned around.

"What are you doing?" Wu asked as I came back in.

"Just in case." I stuck my hand under the futon mattress and pulled out the knife I'd taken from the thug. I slipped it into my coat, not wanting to analyze why I felt I might need it. "Try not to get yourself ghost-napped again," I said on my way out.

"Gabrielle—"

I shut the door on him and jogged down the porch steps. Too impatient to wait for a bus, I grabbed a cab and told the driver to take me South of Market to Folsom and Tenth.

During the day, SoMa was full of warehouse-based businesses. At night, it was where everyone flocked to go dancing in one of the many clubs. Jesse lived right in the middle of it all, not because he was into clubbing but because his garage was just a few blocks away.

The cabbie dropped me off right in front of the building. The interior-decorating store under Jesse's flat was closed and completely dark. No lights on in Jesse's apartment, either.

Wrapping my coat around me tighter, I went to the call box next to the gated stairs and pushed the buzzer. After waiting a minute, I tried it a couple more times, but I instinctively knew he was already gone.

"Damn." I looked up. I looked around. No one. So I grabbed the bars on the gate and hefted myself up and over. I righted my clothes and jogged up the stairs to his front door.

It was closed, and I stood before it wondering how to get in. I didn't have lock-picking skills. Frowning, I tried the doorknob. It twisted and the door swung open.

"Hmm." I stared at it for a long moment. In the movies, when a door was left unlocked it meant that either there was a dead body on the other side or a killer waiting. Maybe I needed to rethink this.

"No, I need to find Jesse." On guard, I slipped in the door, silent and stealthy. Back to the wall, I pulled the knife from my jacket and held it in front of me as I did a quick search of the apartment.

No one waited to jump me, and Jesse's corpse wasn't bleeding out on the floor. Thank God. I returned the knife to my pocket and looked around. I didn't find anything, but I did notice some of Jesse's things were missing. He'd actually left.

Frown. When he'd told me he was leaving, I (egocentrically) thought it was because he needed to be away from me. Now I wondered if it wasn't because of the scroll.

Where would he go? I strode into the kitchen, where his phone was. No notes, no pad of paper I could color with pencil lead to detect anything. I hit redial to see if that'd give me a clue, but I just got Big Nate's Barbeque.

"Hell." I dropped the phone back in the cradle, slipped back out the same way I came in, and considered my options as I walked away.

His garage wasn't far from here—it couldn't hurt to check it out. I turned around and hoofed it up Folsom.

The garage was in the center of the block, and from the corner it looked deserted, as well. Damn it. But then I noticed a faint light in one on the far windows—I think it was the office. Hope surged and I rushed forward.

Sure enough, the office light was on. The door was unlocked, too. I let myself in quietly, closing the door behind me, and tiptoed in.

Jesse stood in front of his filing cabinet, rifling through folders. The paper shredder was working furiously next to him.

I stepped into the room. "Hey."

He whirled around, a gun instantly in his hand and pointed at me.

"What the hell?" I exclaimed, recoiling. I hated guns. Guns killed. Knives could kill, too, but not without intent. Guns went off accidentally all the time.

"Shit, Gabe." He slipped the gun into his waistband and returned to his hurried shredding. "You shouldn't be here."

No kidding. I goggled at the bulge in his jeans—a different, more lethal bulge than I'd ever seen on him. Then I focused on what he was doing. "You're really leaving. For good, aren't you?"

He smiled without humor. "Does it matter?"

"Yes."

"Does it?" His eyes searched mine as he closed the file drawer. "Really?"