Plagued: Book 1 (56 page)

I broke the
Crunky
bar in half and shared it with him.

“Where did you get this?”

Something stopped me from telling Julian about the not-so-dream visit from Hiro and the shining letters. A new found caution, perhaps. He had his secrets. Maybe I should have a few of my own. I shrugged in answer and he let the matter drop.

He breathed a deep sigh after the first bite.
Crunky
power! Finishing off the chocolate, he pulled off the tattered remains of his undershirt, baring his lean, muscled chest and back, the scars and tattoo. “Could you just have a look and see if there is a large purple or black bruise anywhere on my back, near my waist or above? That will mean I'm bleeding internally. I don't think I am but it's hard to catch my breath and my neck is so stiff, I can barely turn my head to look for myself.” He said “bleeding internally” quite casually, as though it were nothing.

He was certainly cut and bruised. Last night I was so self-involved I didn't notice just how ripped up Julian was. The bruises had taken on a nasty, dark hue, though none were what he described and I told him so.

“Good. I heal very quickly. This stuff,” he waved a hand over the carnage, “will be gone by tonight. Internal injuries take a day or so and that would slow us down.”

I decided to ask him about the words in my dream. Spelling out
Leannan si,
trying to sound very casual.

“Where on earth did you hear of the
Leannan si?
”

I shrugged. “Oh, you know, reading. Meant to ask you before.” Though I couldn't say why, I felt uneasy telling him about the dream. If it was only a dream.

He gave me a narrow-eyed look. “Irish, well, Celtic, barrow fairy. Barrows are tombs.”

“
Tomb?
”

“Not because they are dead. The
Leannan si,
also spelled s-i-d-h-e
,
are love fairies. They love their chosen one to death while at the same time inspiring them to create wonderful works of poetry, art, literature, things like that. Sort of like a cross between a muse and a vampire.”

“Oh.” Though my brain cells went
click
,
click
,
whirr
, I came up with nothing. Love fairy? Why would Hiro show me that? Mom was the creative one in the family, she could hardly inspire herself to death. Dad? Somehow I didn't think love fairies worked in international finance, besides, he's a guy.  Did guy fairies even exist? “What about T-u-a-t-h-a D-e D-a-n-a-n-n
?
” I spelled it out since I didn't know how to pronounce the dang thing.

Julian gave me an even narrower-eyed look. “Ancient mythical race of the Irish. Magical beings.
Where
are these questions coming from?”

“Just trying to get my paranormal education up and running,” I lied.

Love fairy and magical mythical race. Thanks Hiro. Why couldn't supernaturals just tell you things like regular people? Preferably with a white board and printed hand-outs.
Detailed
printed hand-outs.

We took turns cleaning the blood as best we could from our faces before setting off.

In the midst of our makeshift toilette the memory of last night surged forward. “Albert!” I gasped. “We have to find out, to find out...” I couldn't finish the sentence. A world without laughing, smiling, deliciously naughty Albert would be too difficult to bear. And that last kiss.

Julian shook his head. “He's not dead. I would know, believe me. You and I will see him again.”

We made quite a pair, the two of us, limping along in dawn's early light. He walked slowly, one arm pressed to his side. We were still near Yokosuka Bay, an industrial area not far from the Naval Base. Ugly and gray. Eventually we stumbled upon a weedy gravel parking lot partially full of cars. While I waited, Julian entered and in a short time returned behind the wheel of a small, green, two-door sedan.

“You jacked the car?”

“I have many skills.”

I eased myself very gratefully into the seat saying, “Most of which are against the laws of God and man.”

Shifting the car into gear, he gave a mirthless grin. “You have
no
idea.”

Chapter 41

Hide and Freak

We stopped first at his shabby little apartment. On the door step sat the hideous cat. It could only be Hex, or Siphy, as I called it. How could the beast have beaten us back? She, Julian called it a she, was even uglier than I remembered. Her coloring a messy smudge of gray and white. Her remaining ear, notched and bitten, drooped to the side and her chest was blotched and scarred. The animal stared at us with a slightly dazed look in her eyes, whiskers awry. She gave her funny little yodeling meow and came to rub against Julian's legs. The thing was so large, the cat's head brushed his knees, and Julian had long legs.

Julian fiddled with the locks, getting the door open. “If she had opposable thumbs and could pull a pop-top, she would never forgive me for stuffing her in that leather case.”

“Doesn't she hunt?”

“In her kitty form, she is much too spoiled. My mother's doing. As a werecat, she always eats things or people she shouldn't and throws it all up.” He rolled his eyes.“Cats!”

The werecat in question gave an enormous yawn, showing fangs and followed us into the apartment. Julian quickly emptied out a tin of tuna, then crammed a variety of objects both mysterious and mundane into several very large duffle bags, including the utensils from the spell the other night. Scooping up the cat – which had barely finished her breakfast – and the bags, he left a pile of Japanese yen on the kitchen counter and, after locking the door, slipped the key underneath.

“Grand theft auto you have no problem with, skipping out on the rent is a 'no go' zone?”

“The police will find the car and return it to the owner. We are just borrowing it.” Shoving the bags and the animal into the back seat, he slid behind the wheel and gunned the motor. “I've got enough on my soul. I'm trying to work my way towards, if not absolution, at least a truce of sorts.”

“With yourself or heaven?”

He said nothing and gunned the motor.

With Julian driving like a maniac, we reached my apartment in an amazingly short time. We spoke of my mother only briefly. Julian swore he had no knowledge of her or any possible involvement she might have had with the Club and I believed him. It was all so improbable. I made him promise we would try to find out. That was all I could do for the moment. We had to leave the country. Today, Julian said.

Racing by Mrs. Walters and her poodle, out for an early morning walk, we made it to my apartment door. My heart in my mouth, I opened the heavy lock. Dad wasn't there. His surprise gift to me, the Air France ticket to Paris, sat on my dresser right where I had propped it up. It was business class, a regular ticket. Dad did not do discount online ticket sites. That meant all it would take was a phone call to change. An envelope lay next to it. '
To Lexie, please read.'
Dad's handwriting. My fingers hesitated over the envelope. It would be a note, probably, trying to reason with me. Urging me to be sensible and talk to him. Something like that. Nothing more. What could there be to say? I left it where it was. Reading his words would be like talking to him and I needed all my resolve just to go through with what we were doing.

I looked at Julian. “Today?”

He nodded.

Changing the flight took only moments. Business Class was almost never a problem for reservations. I checked my watch. We only had a few hours to get to the airport. All I needed were my passport and traveling clothes.

“What about you, Julian?”

He reached for his phone. “I'll take care of my ticket and Hex's.”

Practically vibrating in fear, terrified Dad might walk through the door for whatever reason, I grabbed underwear, socks, T-shirts, a sweater and a couple of pairs of yoga pants; they'd be easier to travel in than jeans and dry quicker. Everything got stuffed into Dad's old REI green backpack from the hall closet. I'd left mine at school and his was bigger anyway. The ex-pat life had made me a seasoned traveler. I knew how to pack light and efficiently. Throwing on my favorite chocolate brown fleece hoodie, (the bloodied one had been left somewhere along the way after they took Albert), over a clean shirt and pants, I rolled my Moncler parka in a tight little ball. It was very warm, and who knows how long we would be gone? Summer wouldn't last forever and we might be sleeping rough. I was wearing my black Skechers boots. They were light and comfortable and I could run in them. I had a feeling we might be doing a lot of running. It wouldn't just be running, so I grabbed a turquoise flower print rayon dress that would travel well and let me dress more formally if the need arose.

What sort of wardrobe was necessary for soul retrieval? I didn't think I had space for any other shoes than a pair of leather Rainbow sandals. Wait, my black ballet flats. Not the too small ones from Julian; my own. They'd just fit. Last of all I took my Gucci sunglasses, the early birthday present from Savan. They would serve as a reminder to take care when choosing style over substance. That was a lesson I learned from the Italian Stallion a little too late.

With a couple of trash bags from the kitchen, I began stuffing other clothes in as fast as I could including my torn and bloody ones from the battle.

“Alexandra.”

“I know, I know.” Closing my eyes, I shoved the beaded Betsey Johnson dress down until it was covered by other things. I couldn't bear to see it go. “We'll dump these somewhere outside. This is just stage dressing, showing Dad I don't plan to come right back. He'll worry less.”

“No he won't,” said Julian simply.

He was right. It wouldn't help at all with the pain of what I was going to do. What I was
doing.
These were not nice people. They could hurt him. They might anyway.

Julian nodded. “Remember the Fetch? I have asked him to watch over your father.”

“Jeez, would you stop with the Jedi mind tricks?” I couldn't keep the exasperation out of my voice. Sometimes this link was a little bit
too
close. “Besides, isn't that debt paid?”

“Debts like that come with interest. Besides, the Fetch and his family were
very
grateful for the gift of Savan.”

In less than fifteen minutes I was ready. Here I stood on the threshold of a new life – or death – the sum of Alexandra Carpenter reduced to one backpack and several trash bags destined for the dumpster. Coco sat next to my pillow. On impulse, I pick-up the stuffed King Charles Spaniel and shoved him into the backpack. He wouldn't quite fit in all the way and his floppy ears hung out. I wasn't ready to leave my entire life behind, not yet.

Tossing the bulging trash bags to Julian, I pulled my Vuitton saddlebag over my shoulder, checking to make sure I had my passport and the copies of my birth certificate and Social Security card from my desk. The ATM and frequent flyer cards would have to stay; those were
way
too easy to track. I looked around my room. It never really felt like mine, this room in Tokyo, which seemed prophetic. As did
everything
these days, I couldn't help thinking irritably. Enough with predestination and fate! Grabbing my iPad, I sync'd a few files from my music and address book including Taka's number.
I abandoned my laptop, it was just too heavy, and Dad had my phone still it seemed. Oh well, nothing I could do about that now.

As I lay my keys on the kitchen counter, I stopped, suddenly sickened at what I was doing.

I had become my mom.

How very ironic. I even had her half of the sweetheart charm now.

Dad would come home and find no note, my keys on the kitchen counter and my clothing gone. Just like her. Just like Mom. That way he would know I hadn't been kidnapped but left on my own. It was the only way. Better a broken heart still beating than the other alternative if the Club thought they could use him to find me. Maybe he would console himself with the charms of the blond. As soon as I thought it, I felt ashamed. Everybody needed someone. Dad was just a man, trying to make it through life as best he could. What right did I have to deny him that? I kept the broken heart key ring from Chen with me. Dad did not need any more mysteries at this moment.

Julian was waiting at the door, watching. His eyes, though wary, were without the hard brittleness that so often stared back at me. The mask he kept firmly in place in public was gone and he looked young. Maybe he was wondering if I would really go through with it. Just walk away from my father, my home, from
everything
with him. He held his hand out, the question in his eyes.

Julian was a powerful sorcerer. No doubt about that. If anyone could save my soul, find the remaining two Soul Eaters and put this broken girl back together again, it was him. I wanted to believe he was doing this to atone for past sins. Or revenge against the Club. Or both. What I
didn't
know was if saving myself was the
only
reason I was trusting my future to Julian Lake.
That
was the real question. One I was having trouble answering on this strange Tokyo morning.

Julian Lake: Monster, Soul Eater, sorcerer. A very dangerous young man in ways almost impossible to comprehend and yet he had become an important part of my life. Whatever life I had remaining. Were these feelings real or just a cruel side-effect from his magical potions? I had enough sense to understand I was still too inexperienced to know the answer. I realized some days ago, maybe as far back as when we stood in the stuffy little curtained alcove before the battle with Savan, that what I felt for him was perhaps not entirely just within the realm of magic. Maybe I was using the blood bond as an excuse to cover these new feelings. Feelings I couldn't and shouldn't have. There was no way he would ever return them. That I knew without a doubt. What was
wrong
with me, I thought, as I had so many times these past days, weeks,
years
.

Staring up at Julian, looking into those brilliant green eyes, I knew I had no choice except to see this through to the end. Whatever end that was.

Together.

I took his hand.

He smiled then. Not a fake smile to comfort me, just one of bruising, brutal honesty. “I will fight to save your soul, Alexandra.”

And he would, I was sure.

Did that mean saving me as well? Or Caroline?

There was only one way to find out.

Holding his hand, I closed the door on my old life and walked away from everything.

To be continued.