Synnergy, Chaos Time Book 3 (8 page)

“Heard the fat one there,” Slayde pointed to the
shortest lady dressed in purple, “is a good lay.” He grinned.

City boy looked and shuddered. “You don’t say?”

Hunter rolled his eyes.

“Well I heard that them killings is happening farther
in the hills,” the shaker interjected and raised his cup to his
lips, taking a long drag of the dark brew within. He burped and
then said, “Some folks were mentioning a vein been discovered in
the fork by the river.”

Monkey boy narrowed his eyes, greed clearly burned in
their bright green depths.

Hunter pursed his lips and glanced at Slayde.

Vein, as in gold vein cutting through the mountain? A
potential cash cow and something a Lord might be protecting?

Shaker scratched his neck with dirt-impacted nails.
“That’s where them killing’s taking place. Stream panning should be
fine.” He shrugged, completely oblivious to the sudden shift in
mood at the table. He gestured to the cards. “Another hand?”

“I’m out,” Hunter shook his head and so did Slayde.
Monkey boy nodded agreement.

The man frowned and his shoulders slumped. It was
obvious he wasn’t used to winning and had hoped to win another hand
before calling it quits. With a growl he threw back his drink,
shoved his hat on his head and got up, walking to another
table.

Monkey boy stood. “I’m going to go snag me a whore.”
He tipped his hat at them after putting it back on and headed in
Sable’s direction.

Slayde jerked to his feet.

“Stay away from her tonight, Slayde,” Hunter warned,
his blue eyes flat as cold steel.

“I’ll go where I please, Hunter. You heard shaky,
that gold is probably where the Lord is at. Why keep the girls here
another night?”

He nodded. “Likely so. But the suit,” he pointed his
thumb over his shoulder at Monkey boy who was now smiling at Sable,
“knows more than he’s letting on. If we give her a chance, I’d bet
my soul she’ll learn more for us. You screwed us over last time, we
can’t afford to make the same mistake again.”

Slayde laughed. “I’ll do whatever I damn well
please,” he said, forgetting his resolution to play nice. The boy
scout had a way of crawling under his skin and pressing every
single one of his ‘screw you’ buttons.

Instead of hurling another insult at him, Hunter sat
back with a pleased smirk. “Too late.”

He hadn’t even turned around, but Slayde knew she was
gone. Somehow the bastard had known she’d left with the Darwinian
throw back.

Hunter tapped his finger on the table. “Heard the fat
one’s a good lay.” He nodded towards the purple dressed giggler as
she walked past. “Still available.”

“Screw you.”

With a two fingered salute, Hunter stood and headed
toward the bar, laughing softly to himself.

He was young, but had a nice smile that put her
instantly at ease. Sable had been doing her best to flirt and fawn
over her sweaty admirers, while also keeping an eye on the tense
atmosphere of Hunter’s and Slayde’s table. It’d been exhausting,
and she’d still found out little, other than one boy was a virgin
and tonight was his birthday. Apparently the group hoped she’d be
his gift.

Yeah. Right.

She was getting ready to wiggle out of the crush when
a man in a form fitting blue suit walked up to her. His eyes were
the greenest she’d ever seen and the way they twinkled like cut
gems when he grinned at her, had her forgetting everything.

“Ma’am.” He tipped his hat and for the first time
tonight she wore a real smile in return.

She’d seen how most men approached the women,
demanding and pushy. He was treating her like a lady, which she
actually found endearing.

He wasn’t the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. He
was soft, even kind of pretty, but there was a kindness in his face
she found refreshing. He removed his hat, revealing a thick wave of
brown hair.

“I’m looking for a bed fellow tonight and would be
ever so grateful if you’d agree to accompany me.”

She giggled, she couldn’t help it. His eyes were
round and sincere. He looked so out of place, he kept tugging at
his too tight tie, but his friendly smile never wavered. He kind of
reminded her of thumper the rabbit when he’d bumped into his lady
rabbit in the meadow.

At no point had she ever wanted to engage in what was
happening all around her, but his voice was so soft and lulling,
that her fears were streamers gently falling to the ground.

He smiled a nice row of white teeth and there was
something about him that she immediately liked. Maybe it was his
smell. Sweet and spicy, like hot licorice, it beckoned to her and
she surprised herself when she nodded her agreement.

He held out his hand and she placed hers in his. His
thumb lightly grazed her knuckles. There was no heat like what she
felt with Slayde. Everything was happening in a haze. In no time
they’d made it up the flight of stairs and before she knew it, they
were in her room.

Still, she felt at ease. Doubt tried to nag at her,
tried to dig a hole through her subconscious into her conscious
mind. A warning that this was so out of character for her, but it
never came fully to fruition.

“I’m a painter,” he said, sitting down on Ari’s bed
as he started to undo his black tie.

Sable leaned against the door. “What do you
paint?”

In here his scent was even stronger. She inhaled,
filling her lungs with the enticing aroma.

“Landscapes mostly.” The black ends of his tie
dangled as he started to unbutton his jacket.

She watched his long, lean fingers work the buttons
through the hole, then he shrugged the jacket off and began rolling
up his white sleeves.

“But I’ve wanted to paint a portrait, and the
striking contours of her your cheekbones beckoned me.”

She had a memory of herself at age five, driving
through a tunnel with her car window down. The lights had rolled by
in a blur, the wind had made her dizzy and lightheaded. That’s
exactly what she felt now. She wondered if this was what it was
like to be drunk. Was it possible to get drunk from fumes? Because
it seemed like the more she inhaled his spicy cologne, the more
weird she felt. Her knees wobbled.

“Is the floor moving?” she mumbled, gripping the
doorjamb tight. The room was spinning, the walls were closing in.
Like being in a fun house. How couldn’t he feel it?

She closed her eyes, trying to squelch the vertigo
that was making her mouth go dry.

He shook his head. “No, of course not. Are you okay,
Bunny?”

She bit her bottom lip, really feeling the rolling
movement of the floor now. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear
she was on a boat in the middle of a stormy ocean.

“I feel a little green around the gills.”

“Open your eyes,” he commanded.

She cracked open one eye.

“Good. Now,” he gestured, “come here. The room is not
pitching.”

It was the weirdest thing, because the moment he said
it, the waves stopped. Her stomach settled and she frowned. What
had just happened to her? She hadn’t made it up. And yet, there
were no lingering effects.

“Come,” he ordered again.

She felt compelled to please him. Which was strange.
She wasn’t normally so docile. She knew this, but still she
couldn’t seem to stop herself from following his command.

He pointed to the bed. “Lay.”

“Umm, I don’t know...”

He grinned. “Not to worry, Bunny. I mean you no
harm.”

“So you don’t want to sleep with me?”

He shook his head. “I’ve certain proclivities, you
see.”

His answer was a balm for ragged nerves. A
high-pitched giggle rang in her ears. She frowned, glancing around
and realized the sound had come from her. Again, something inside
her head whispered to her that something was wrong here.

But he was so nice.

“So you’re gay?”

Long lashes covered his eyes; they were black spikes
lying against the creamy smoothness of his skin. For the first time
she noticed the light smattering of freckles lacing his nose.

“You’re nice to look at,” she drawled.

Jeez, where was her mute button? She wasn’t normally
so uncensored.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He grinned and
gestured to the bed again. “I could paint you laying down. I think
that might be best for you.”

She swayed, he was right, the bed sounded like a
lovely idea. She obliged with a delighted sigh and threw her arm
over her face. A heavy weight of exhaustion enveloped her the
moment her head touched the feather down pillow. A whiff of
Slayde’s scent from the night before wafted under her nose warring
with the spicy heat of licorice. She liked Slayde’s better.

“Lovely,” he said, “that pose is divine. Now, don’t
move.”

“I don’t think I could even if I wanted to,” she
slurred, she would have asked him where his paints and canvas were,
if she wasn’t so tired. If she could only open her eyes, she might
have asked him a lot of things, but they slammed shut.

She was in a foreign world. An ancient one. Full of
trees that towered into the heavens with gnarled vines dragging fat
fingers towards the ground. Blades of grass tickled her bare feet.
She looked down. What happened to her shoes? And her dress, where
had it gone? She was wearing a gauzy white toga that wrapped like
sin around her body, giving her the illusion of curves and...were
those breasts? She touched the large round mounds and squeaked.

She held out her arms. They were tanned and toned.
Sable grabbed the thick braid lying over her shoulder, marveling at
the deep rich brown, the color of liquid chocolate.

She frowned. Where was she? “Hello,” she called
out.

No answer.

A monarch butterfly drew her eye. It danced around
her head, its wings brushing her bare arms and then flitted over
her cheeks as if in greeting.

The sun was warm. She titled her face up to accept
its caress. Fluffy white clouds floated lazily through the bluest
sky she’d ever seen.

It was a wonderland and she wanted to fly through
it. She called her fire. But it didn’t come. She called it again.
And again, it didn’t come.

“
Welcome to my forest.” The voice was hauntingly
beautiful, echoing with a roll of thunder.

Sable twirled on her heels and lost her ability to
think as the loveliest being she’d ever seen stared back at her.
She swung within a thick knot of vines, her legs were crossed and
her feet were bare. Thousands of monarch butterflies draped her
luscious body from her breasts to her toes, like a living gown.

She wore no adornments in her hair. If you could
even call it that. More like red flames that danced in curls around
her face.

Sable inhaled, stunned to silence by the
otherworldly beauty. The land smelled heavily of wildflowers and
honey. Black eyes full of ancient intelligence studied her and she
didn’t need to ask, she knew who this was, had shared her body with
this soul.

“
You’re the phoenix.”

“
I am.” Her hair swayed and danced around her face
in a mesmerizing display. Her smile was beatific and Sable would
swear that the sunlight grew suddenly ten times brighter.

“
Why am I here?” she asked.

“
Because you are in great danger, and you must
wake up.”

But she didn’t want to wake up. She wanted to stay
here. It was so beautiful. So peaceful and quiet. Perfect. “Is this
heaven?”

She looked around. “It is my home.”

A shimmering curtain of translucence emanated from
her body.

She wondered if that’s what she looked like when her
fire danced. “I have so many questions.”

Black eyes filled with pinpricks of silver dust were
laced with grief. “We haven’t much time. You must return. You must
wake up.”

“
I don’t want to go. I want to stay here with
you.”

“
But you must.” The words were cold, no longer
comforting and she flinched. “Do not forget your purpose. Do not
forget why we are here.” Her words whipped up a tempest that
spilled a sea of green leaves from the branches. “He will not
enslave me again.” Her last words were punctuated by a jagged tear
of lightning that struck in a sulfur blast by her foot.

Sable hugged her arms to her chest.

“
Wake. Up!” The face twisted into a mask of cruel
intensity.

Sable screamed, slashing at the hands that gripped
her neck.

“Move, and I’ll slit your neck.” A cold sharp object
pressed against the pulse point in her neck.

The voice did not belong to a man, the hands were not
man’s hands, but the smile was one she knew. A gap toothed grin
with a Marilyn Monroe mole at the corner.

“Alice?” she squeaked, and then blinked when the face
melted. Literally. It was like someone taking a flame to wax and
watching it drip into a tallow puddle. It was macabre and then the
puddle reformed into another face. It was the boy with the nice
smile and wavy brown hair.

Horror squeezed a black grip on her heart. She
couldn’t move. Couldn’t turn her gaze away from the absurd reality
playing out before her.

That face melted, and she was staring into the
grizzled features of a burned monstrosity with an eye patch. One
Eyed Jack smiled two rows of brown and black teeth. “So I’ve been
called before.”

He shoved the blade deeper into her neck. The need to
swallow was overwhelming, but she didn’t dare.

“Who the hell are you?”

Hot spittle landed on her lips. Adrenaline buzzed so
hard, kicking her into fight or flight mode. She called her fire.
Beckoned her flames, and just like the dream, it didn’t come.

Terror was a bottomless cesspit in her soul. Sable
clawed at his wrist and screamed at him. He didn’t even flinch at
the sound.