The Seven: Four tales of passion, danger and love (42 page)

Book Four

Dedication:

For my honeyman – I do.

Forever and Always.

Prologue

Tongues of light lapped at smooth skin like the touch of a lover, while shadows danced in an errant breeze from the opened window, threatening the flame of the candle.

The smell of beeswax and herbs mixed with the scent of countless braziers of incense long since burned, intruded upon by the odor of night blooming flowers from beyond the confines of the small dwelling.

A wisp of sensation brought heat to skin too long denied the flame of passion. Across her shoulder, then down over the curve of one breast. The touch brought memories of longing, of mingled breath and sweat-slicked skin. Of whispered promises and sublime release.

Her gaze moved to the reflection in the mirror. How long since she’d looked upon her true visage? How long since she’d acknowledged the loss and longing?

Silvery eyes followed the path of one hand as it lifted and lightly tracedthe trail of sensation. Always the journey ended the same. Upon the marking on her breast.

With a sigh, she turned from the mirror, securing the frog closures of her tunic. It was no surprise to find her solitude interrupted.

“Even in this age of incivility, it is considered good manners to knock.” She spoke softly without bothering to look upon her uninvited guest.

The remark was ignored with a level of imperturbability that would have seemed arrogant in a lesser being. “Have you doubts about the path you’ve chosen?”

“A path that was chosen for me.”

“A choice that you remain hostage to by choice.”

“I will not debate that with you again. I stand as firm now as when the decision was made. Yet even creatures such as we are allowed moments of self-indulgence. Times to remember what was and what might have been.”

“Ah, love.” Those two wistfully spoken words acknowledged understanding with eloquence and empathy that volumes could not have conveyed.

She turned to face him and smiled sadly. “Is it not interesting, my love, that of the myriad contradictions that exist in the world, the starkest contrast is that between love and hate?”

“Like all opposites, in each there lies a seed of the other. Am I to infer that the Light within the Darkness is gaining in strength and weakening your resolve?”

She turned so that he could not see her face. “Not at all. It is simply a matter I ponder. Understanding that contradiction helps one to value true love while understanding the ramifications of hatred. And without understanding, we are all truly lost.”

It was no surprise to be denied a response, or to find herself alone once more. Forcing aside thoughts of love and hate and the delicate fine line between the two, she turned her attention to the task at hand.

It was time to prepare.

Chapter One

Grace Jennings slammed the car door hard enough to rock the old Toyota.

Life sucked. Eight hours of schlepping drinks and smiling at men she’d rather toss off a cliff than play the flirting game with, and the result of her effort was a measly eighty dollars.

Eighty dollars more than you had yesterday
, the annoying voice in her head reminded her.

Still, not much to show for a night’s work. Truth be told, she didn’t have much to show for twenty-five years of living. A ten year old Toyota that was refusing to start at the moment, an apartment in one of the less-desirable parts of town and a job at a bar that required her to wear crop-tops, mini shirts and knee-high leather boots six nights a week.

Yep, she was officially a loser.

The car started with a sputter and a shudder and she put it into gear. Once on the street, she rolled down the window, despite the rumbling thunder that signaled the onset of yet another summer storm.

The humid night quickly turned her mass of curls into a tangled gnarl. Grace paid that no more attention than she did the rattle from the exhaust pipe that was threatening to fall off the car or the sparse traffic on the road in the wee hours of the morning. Her mind shifted to thoughts of life.

When she had been small, her dreams had been grandiose. She’d wanted to be a superhero, a performer, an award winning photojournalist, or the first woman president. By the time she’d graduated high school, those dreams had faded in the light of harsh reality. With her mother dead, her father in and out of alcohol treatment and no other living relatives, survival superseded dreams of grandeur.

She’d taken the first job she was offered, working in the photo-developing department of the local Walmart. That had lasted six months. From that point on, it had been a succession of jobs. Waiting tables, working as a belly dancer for an Arabian Nights dinner show, buckling kids into roller coaster seats at a theme park, waiting tables, bartending.

She’d lost count of how many times she changed jobs, all the while wondering why something couldn’t happen to change the cycle she’d become trapped in.

Change had come, but not the way she’d hoped.

A week before her twenty-second birthday, her father had died. Their meager home had to be sold to satisfy the mountain of debt he’d amassed, and her salary just hadn’t been enough to afford an apartment and still be able to eat. She’d needed a job that paid more.

That was when she’d started working at bars and nightclubs. She’d waited tables, danced, tended bar and even cleaned up after closing to earn what she needed to survive, always hoping that one day, something miraculous would happen that would give her a chance at something better. It’d become clear that miracles were in scarce supply.

Her mind snapped to the present at the sudden flash of lightning that turned the night into a brief flare of white. The almost instantaneous boom of thunder made her jump. The storm was right on top of her.

She leaned closer to the steering wheel, scanning the sky. One second she was looking at rolling dark clouds and the next, her heart was hammering in her chest as she gaped at the impossible.

Two figures, from all appearances locked in battle, tumbled across the sky. This wasn’t possible. Was she hallucinating? Having a stroke? This couldn’t be real.

Yet she was seeing it with her own eyes.

Two winged figures. Men as far as she could tell. Human but not. Rolling across the sky, fists hammering rapid blows even as they held fast to one another.

Suddenly they plunged, headed straight for the ground.

A scream tore out of her throat at the impact when they crashed into her car. The hood crumpled, the sound of bending metal an accompaniment to the booming thunder and pounding of her own heart. She contracted her abdominal muscles against the threat of her bladder trying to empty.

A face slammed into the windshield with enough force to send a web of cracks radiating out from the point of impact. Grace threw herself back against the seat, fear robbing her of the ability to do more than issue a small squeak.

Rage was stamped on the stranger’s face and blazed in his eyes.

Oh my god, his eyes
.

Those weren’t the eyes of a man. Nor was that the hand of a man pressing against the windshield as the creature tried to push itself up. His hands were talons, his eyes golden, and the wings that were flattened beneath the weight of his opponent looked amazingly like that of a giant golden eagle.

Grace couldn’t move, couldn’t take her eyes off the creature or the nightmare that clung to his back, raining blows on him. Scaled skin with the face of something that belonged on a cathedral with the gargoyle brigade, it was big and grotesque.
L
eathery wings sprouted from its back.

Another searing bolt of lightning blinded her for the space of a heartbeat. In that instant, the balance of power shifted. When she could see again, the birdman was on his feet, one powerful talon wrapped around the gargoyle’s neck, his mighty wings beating at the air.

In seconds, they were gone, swallowed by the clouds.

Stunned, Grace slumped back in her seat. Her mind was struggling to make sense of what she’d seen. When her car suddenly jolted forward, she didn’t even have time to scream before she was being smothered by the airbag.

As she fought to free herself, she was aware of the door opening. Moments later, strong hands pulled her from the car.

“Are you all right?”

It was all Grace could do to just breathe, bent over with her hands on her thighs, trying not to vomit from fear and shock.

“Should I call an ambulance?”

“No.” She shook her head, sucking in air and pushing herself upright. She didn’t have medical insurance and couldn’t afford a trip to the emergency room. “I’ll be okay. Just need to catch my—”

Her voice failed her as she got a look at the man. The blue eyes regarding her were set in a face that could have been carved by an old master. One look sent her into temporary paralysis. The power and strength blazing from those eyes was enough to have her already-overloaded mind turning to mush.

“Miss?” he asked, reaching out to steady her.

His touch sent bolts of heat sizzling through nerves straight to her brain. Lights burst before her eyes and suddenly she was in another place.

She stood before a window, looking out into the night. A tall oak, heavily laden with new growth, swayed in the wind just beyond the window. The moon played a game of hide and seek in the moisture-laden clouds that drifted across the night sky.

Where was she? How had she gotten here? Was this another hallucination?

Grace turned to get a look at her surroundings. Shadows swayed in a slow melody over the dark paneled walls. Furnishing she could only describe as elegant decorated a room that bespoke of wealth.

Her breath caught as her eyes lighted on the figure of a man standing just inside the dark doorway, watching.

Long dark hair
swept back from a face that could be exemplified as perfect masculine beauty. Thick, elegant eyebrows, an aristocratic nose, and full lips were housed in a face that was angular but strong, as if chiseled from living stone.

His eyes captured hers and abruptly, there was sound in her quiet universe. The steady rapid pulse of her heart hammered suddenly in her ears and her breath quickened. Every nerve ending in her body ignited and a flood of longing washed through her with such strength it forced a low moan from her throat. The air crackled with the energy that passed between them.

He stretched out his hand in invitation. Grace felt her heart pound. As if of its own accord, her body moved toward him, the magnetic connection of their eyes pulling her forward. She stopped in front of him and hesitantly placed her hand in his.

A surge of energy swept through her that was so erotic it took her breath. Her fingers tightened in his, her heart rate quickened and heat flooded her body. He pulled her to him, his eyes holding her hostage.

He murmured in a soft but deep voice. She did not understand the words, but the tone with which they were uttered spoke to her of passion such as that found only in dreams.

His free hand moved to cup the back of her head and pull her close, their breath mingling and bodies molding to one another. With infinite slowness, his mouth claimed hers, warm and soft. His tongue traced the outline of her mouth, parting her lips gently. She surrendered eagerly and the kiss turned to one of passion and longing, tongues exploring and teeth nipping. His erection pressed against her belly and she undulated against him, her sex wet with hunger.

His hands moved around her to draw her more firmly against his erection. Grace groaned and wound her arms around his neck, hungrily seeking his mouth again.

“I must have you,” he murmured against her lips. “Give yourself to me.”

Abruptly, the dream or hallucination or whatever it was, was over. She found herself standing in the street and, the man watching her with the ghost of a smile on his face.

“Come,” he said. “Let me take you home.”

“I think not.” A soft feminine voice came from behind him.

The man released Grace and pivoted in the direction of the voice. An older woman stepped around him, positioning herself between him and Grace. “My shop is just across the street.” The woman said. “I’ll take her there and arrange for her vehicle to be tended.”

“She’s mine—my responsibility.”

Grace felt a surge of excitement at his words, one that was curiously followed almost immediately with a stab of fear and confusion.

What the hell was going on and why couldn’t she think straight?

“No, she’s not.” The woman took Grace’s arm.

Something cool and soothing washed over Grace at the woman’s touch and she sagged, mentally overwhelmed and unable to focus.

“There now, child.” The woman wrapped her arm around Grace to support her. “You’ll be just fine.”

Grace had no idea where they walked or how long it took to get there. All she knew was that one moment she was standing in the street and the next she was seated in a deeply cushioned wicker chair, wrapped in a soft warm blanket.

She pulled the blanket tighter around her, shivering more from fear than cold. The room was small, with woven rugs scattered on the floor. A scarred old desk sat along one wall. Boxes of what appeared to be plants crowded its surface. Adjacent to her chair was a small table bearing several fat candles, and beside that, a wooden rocking chair.

A sweet aroma came from the candles, the scent somehow soothing. Grace closed her eyes, trying to get a grip, to still her racing mind.

Just then, the woman entered, carrying a tray with a small ceramic teapot and two ceramic mugs.

“Here now.” She placed the tray on the desk. “A cup of tea is just what the doctor ordered.”

She turned, a mug in each hand and offered one to Grace. Grace accepted it, wrapping both hands around the mug, and letting its warmth seep into her them. An enticing smell of cinnamon, something sweet and flowers came from the steam drifting up from the depth of the mug.

She brought it closer, sipped and then looked at the woman. “Where am I?”

“In my shop. I’ve called and made arrangements to have your vehicle transported to a repair facility.”

Grace opened her mouth to protest. She didn’t have the money for car repairs. But it was too much of an effort to argue. She’d never felt so exhausted.

Was that what happened when people lost their minds? They hallucinated impossible sights, then grew weary to the bone and drifted away into the shadows of their own minds?

That thought brought a fresh case of the shivers. She had to hang on to what mental faculties she had. Had to find a way to make sense of things.

She looked at the woman seated across from her.

“My name is Grace.”

“Hello, Grace. Rest now, you are safe.”

Grace nodded and tried another sip of the tea. It was hard to tell how old the woman was. Maybe old enough to be Grace’s grandmother. Her hair was gray and long, braided loosely and hanging over one shoulder. The flesh on her face bore testament to age, but her strange silvery-blue eyes were bright and alert.

“Who are you?”

“Nyah.”

“In-yah?” Grace pronounced the woman’s unusual name as the woman had. “That’s different. Who are you, Nyah?”

The woman smiled. “Just an old woman seeking wisdom.”

Grace frowned at the reply. “Sorry, I don’t get it.”

The woman waved her hand in a sign of gentle dismissal. “It is of no consequence to you at this point in your journey. Would you like to talk about what happened, Grace?”

Grace shook her head. She still couldn’t wrap her mind around that yet. She needed to think about something else, something normal. If she could do that, then maybe she wasn’t losing grip on reality.

“What kind of shop is this?” Grace cut her eyes at the boxes of plants on the desk. “Do you sell herbs?”

Nyah smiled. “No, I use those to create inks.”