Eternally Yours 1 (18 page)

Did Gabe have a family? A child? A dog? A…a wife?

Trepidation rippled in waves as she edged closer to the easel. On the canvas, splinters of sunlight pierced splotches of bright red and orange
swimming through an ebony background. Odd. Gabe usually worked in pastels, watercolors indicative of his favorite Impressionists.

Was this piece something new? Something he’d started since her death?
When she stood close enough to the painting to realize its significance, she gasped.

In the portrait, a dark-haired woman with ocean blue eyes brimming with tears of agony, drowned in a river of flames.
The woman bore a striking resemblance to Jodie. And the background could only be the portal to hell.

The last
dregs of energy deserted her, and she fell to the floor, a pool of sobbing ectoplasm.

~~~~

Luc didn’t know how long the blackness claimed him before he grew aware again. Waking came slowly and with difficulty, like swimming up from the bottom of an oceanic riptide. No matter how he struggled, he couldn’t open his eyes to gauge the distance to the surface. Forcing himself to remain calm, he called on his other senses to drag him from unconsciousness. A sharp smell stung his nostrils—bleach or ammonia. The rhythmic hum of machines crooned a lullaby near his ears. A hard, immobile object clogged his throat, preventing him from swallowing, much less speaking.

And then the first whisper connected with his foggy brain.

“…medically induced coma…” A male voice, close by, but unfamiliar.

Medically? A doctor maybe? Am I in a hospital?

That would explain the smells and sounds around him.

“No.”

Is that Daphne’s firm denial ripping the shroud of silence?

“…
chance it will save his life…” the male voice murmured.

“…understand that…” Yes, he definitely recognized the steel-edged demand in his future ex-wife’s tone. “But Luc wouldn’t want… …kept alive by machine… …a temporary basis…”

How does she know what I’d want? Our entire marriage has been based on what she wanted.

“…Turn the machines off…” she announced, more insistent now. “…let him go peacefully…”

“…perhaps wait…”

“No!” This time she shouted clear enough for the entire ward to hear every word. “I don’t want to
… prolong my husband’s agony.”

But for the torture device lodged in his throat
—a ventilator maybe?—Luc would have laughed at such false concern from his wife.

Since when do you care?

“…if you’re certain…” The man’s voice faded in and out over the beeping of the damned machines. “…I assure you…”
Beep
!
Beep
!
Beep
! “…chance he could pull through…”

“Of course I’m certain,” Daphne snapped. “Luc and I
… discussed this…over the course of our marriage. He wouldn’t want…to be on life support…even briefly.”

“
…There are forms you’ll need to sign…” Defeat weighed down the man’s words.

“Get them.
Let’s be done with this… so my poor Luc can be at peace and I can mourn him properly.”

Wait. Is the doctor saying she’s going to pull me off life support? Even though there’s a chance I’ll survive?

Clarity burst forth, a shaft of sunlight on his dim mortal coil. He struggled to sit up, to move a hand, a finger, to signal to someone, anyone.

Don’t listen to her! She doesn’t give a damn about me or my wishes. Somehow she found out about the separation agreement. She’s pulling the plug on my life before she loses everything. Game, set, match. To her.

Don’t listen to her! I don’t want to die. Not yet. Not like this.

“Not like this!” His own terror woke him from the nightmare.

Drenched in sweat, his heart pounding like a jackhammer, Luc opened his eyes to the familiar bland walls of the room at the Halfway House. Dammit, he’d been revisiting his last day on Earth since his first sleep here. Why the frig did he keep dreaming about his personal slice of hell?

He frowned. No, not a dream. A memory. Daphne’s final betrayal.
Fighting off the sheets wrapped straight-jacket style around him, he turned to check on Jodie to be sure his outburst hadn’t disturbed her. But of course, he hadn’t disturbed Jodie at all.

Jodie was gone.

“Jodie!” Shouting his partner’s name, Luc rose from the bed and quickly conjured a new outfit. Another pair of black jeans, another t-shirt. This time, emblazoned on the soft black cotton, a cartoon bucket dangled beneath the sunny yellow words,
Come Kick It With Me
. Despite shouting loud enough to rattle the walls, his calls to Jodie received no response, and his attuned senses picked up no sign of her presence. No feminine vibration, no scent of earth and flowers, no sultry but hesitant voice echoing anywhere within the walls. He strode to the door, opened it, stuck his head out into the hall. Nothing. Not a wisp or stray ion over the threshold.

With angry force, he slammed the door and then leaned against the jamb.

Shit. Where the hell did she go? The apartment isn’t large enough for her to hide anywhere.

In his unmarried life, when a woman left his bed after a bout of sex, he’d always felt relief. No need to suffer through banal small talk or…God forbid…snuggling.
But this was Jodie’s room, and it wasn’t like she had a job to get to, or any of the other lame excuses he’d heard or used over the years. Which meant…she must have taken off in a snit. He forced himself to remain calm, to keep a lid on the impatience crackling in his synapses. What whim set her running and where? Didn’t she realize her idiocy made him look incompetent?

Okay, stay calm. Let’s figure this out.
Pacing the narrow alcove, he flexed his thoughts.

Maybe she’d gone to his room? Maybe his snoring had bothered her? Daphne had always insisted he should undergo surgery to correct his deviated septum. The noise he made at night, she’d complained, could scare off a grizzly bear.

But no, Jodie couldn’t have gone to his room. She’d never been there. In all their meetings since they’d been introduced at Ghoul Central Station, he’d come to her. Considering the dozen identical doors lining the hall here, she’d have a tough time figuring which one led to his quarters.

Besides, did snoring exist in the Afterlife? He had no clue. Sleeping, he’d discovered early on, was generally more like recharging a battery than human sleep. At least, that was the opinion he’d had until now. Then again, he hadn’t believed sex existed in the Afterlife. But based on what he’d experienced with Jodie, and the real, human, post-coital slumber he’d fallen into afterwards, maybe he didn’t know everything there was to know about this place just yet.
The only spoiler in the entire experience was the damn memory of Daphne’s betrayal, which seemed to be getting more vivid with each dream.

An invisible two-by-four smashed the backs of his knees, and he managed to sink onto a stool near the counter before he hit the floor. Were the two events connected?

Obviously, he and Jodie shared a psychic link, probably as part of the mentor/trainee roles the Board had assigned them. After all, they communicated without speaking. Would such a bond continue beyond consciousness? Would Jodie have experienced the details of his last day on Earth the way he had lived them? Did that explain why she’d taken off? Did she know about Daphne? About what a sap he’d been? Shame washed over him in an icy wave. The last thing he needed was some stranger prying into his private pain. Hell, even Sean didn’t know the full details of his death.

Sean! Had Jodie gone to Martino’s room? The two had been awfully chummy in the Reception Area. Well, he’d track her down.
Wherever the hell she’d gone.

Chapter 18

Sean Martino rolled over for another traipse through the Garden of Sleepin’ when a loud banging yanked him into harsh reality.

“Martino!”
Luc Asante’s voice thundered through the paper-thin walls.

Damn. Now what?

“Unless you got the call to move on and you’ve come to say goodbye,” Sean shouted, “you’d better get your ass away from my door, Asante.”

“Open up, asshole!”

On an impatient sigh, Sean tumbled out of bed, simultaneously conjuring up a pair of sweat pants.
Screw the shirt. I’m not going to offend Asante’s delicate sensibilities.
And Sean certainly wasn’t averse to allowing Luc’s cute little partner a sneak preview of his bulging pecs and rock-hard abs.

He
staggered to the door, scratching fingernails over his scalp to wake up any still dormant brain cells. The tumbler clicked as he turned the doorknob. He barely noted the sliver of light in the hallway before Luc pushed inside, his expression murderous. “Where is she?”

Sean blinked. “Where is who?”

“Jodie.”

“You lost your partner?
” He cupped an ear and scratched his thumb over the hairline behind his lobe. “Again?”

While he paced like a stalking jungle cat,
Luc’s frown deepened to a snarl, and his brows knitted into black apostrophes. “Don’t start with me. It’s been a weird enough day without you adding your crap to my shitburger. Jodie’s gone.”

“Gone where?”

Luc threw up his hands. “If I knew where she’d gone, I’d have caught her already. I woke up and she was gone.”

“
Okay, let’s not panic.” Watching Luc’s traversing made him dizzy, and he pinched the top of his nose to regain equilibrium. “Maybe she went out on another hunt.”

He stopped in mid-pace, staring at Sean with wide eyes.
“After that last one? Hell, no. You saw her condition when we found her. No way the Board would call her up again until she’d had time to heal.”

“So
you don’t think the Board knows she’s gone?”

Luc’s lips twisted. “I’m not sure. I doubt it. And I sure as hell don’t intend to inform them.”

“Why not?”

“Because depending on where she is right now, I could end up looking like a jackass.”

Tilting his head, Sean cocked a brow. “Your concern for your partner warms the coldest corners of my heart.”

“Screw you. You have no idea what it’s like to be responsible for someone else in this place. Hell, I’ve never snitched on anyone. Here…” He pointed to the floor. “Or there.” He jerked a thumb toward the door.

“Aww…” Sean clucked his tongue. “Poor baby.”

“You don’t get it, do you? If I run to the Board to report her disappearance, and she strolls in right afterward, they’re going to assume I couldn’t wait to tattle on her. And I look like Mega-Loser who panics the minute his partner skips out. But if I say nothing and she doesn’t return before the Board calls her again, I’ll be accused of abetting her escape.”

“Okay, calm down. No one said she’s escaped. Not yet.” Exhausted from just watching Luc’s histrionics, Sean slipped onto the nearest stool and indicated Luc take the second seat. “Let’s see if we can’t figure out where she went. Start at the beginning. Tell me everything that happened since I last saw you guys.”

Thank God Luc took the hint and sat.
“I already told you. Jodie’s disappeared.”

“No, that’s the end.”
Sean leaned back and thrummed his fingertips on the counter in a slow, thoughtful rhythm. “You said you hoped you’d find her here. Why would she come here?”

“
Beats me.”

“
But this was the first place you thought to look. Why? Why here? What makes you think she’s not in the basement playing racquetball?”

He slapped his palm on the counter.
“Because she doesn’t
know
about the basement, for one thing. For another, she was probably in a snit, and since you and she were so chummy at Ghoul Central’s Reception, I figured she’d come running to you to complain about what an ass I am.”

“Now why would she do that?
What happened after I left you guys? Did you have a fight or something?”

“No…” He paused
, ran a finger over his collar ala Rodney Dangerfield. “Not really…”

“Uh-huh.”
Sean’s detective instincts registered the red flush creeping into Luc’s cheeks. “Let’s go back to where I last saw you and Jodie. You left Reception, Jodie followed you. I offered to escort her, but she said she wasn’t in the mood for company. I came to my room here. Where did you two go?”

“Jodie’s room.
” He rubbed a hand over his chin. “No. Wait. We landed in the hallway. Jodie fell on the floor, too beaten to make it the rest of the way.”

Calling on all the skills he’d honed during his years in the NYPD, he pressed on.
“So what’d you do?”

“I t
old her to get up. But you saw her. She was pretty banged up and had no energy left at all.”

Easy…lure him in nice and slow.
“So…?”

“So I suggested we meld our energy
and I’d transport her the rest of the way.”

Sean nodded. He’d melded with other bounty hunters on several occasions, usually when they’d used up so much of their energy on the fight, they didn’t have enough power to propel their quarry back to the Afterlife. Melding was fairly common in their line of work: a sort of spontaneous combustion, almost like jumpstarting a dead car battery.

“Sounds logical.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?
” While one set of fingers raked Luc’s scalp, he thumped his other fist on the counter. “Only one problem. Apparently, melding with a member of the opposite gender creates a fusion more mind-blowing than the best sex you ever had on Earth.”

“Yeah, but only if you’re drawn to each other.”

Luc’s jaw dropped. “Wait a second. Hold up. You knew that sex was a possibility here?”

Sean perfectly imitated Luc’s expression.
“Wait a second. Hold up. You and Jodie had sex?”

H
ands waving over the counter like a football referee calling a play dead, Luc shook his head. “No you don’t. We’re not going there. What do you mean, ‘only if you’re drawn to each other’?”

Too bad.
Sean would have far preferred to know what that fiery honey was like in the sack. But he swallowed his disappointment and followed the trail Luc chose. “S.O.P., Luc. Standard Operating Procedure.”

“I know what S.O.P. stands for.”

“You also know that one of the reasons the Board insists we maintain a physical and emotional distance when we go after bounties is that if we’re accidentally drawn in by them, we run the risk of being absorbed and destroyed. Or did you forget that?”

“
No, of course not. But Jodie’s not a bounty.”

“She’s a spirit, isn’t she?
The same rules of physics must apply. If you’re drawn to her energy, she can weaken your defenses and pull you into her realm. And if she’s equally drawn to you, I figure that’s gotta create one major orgasmic release.” Curiosity finally overwhelmed him, and he leaned close, whispering through unmoving lips. “How was she?”
Luc rolled back, dark eyes shooting lasers. “Screw you, Sean!”

The reaction spoke volumes.
“Lucky bastard. I’d give my left nut to share Afterlife bliss with a hottie like Jodie. Assuming, of course, I could conjure up a new nut afterwards—”
“Watch yourself, Martino.”

Sean held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, no sweat. You guys obviously have something between you
, and I’m not the homewrecker type.”

“There’s nothing between us,” Luc growled.

In studying Luc’s response, what struck Sean was not the words, but the attitude. Not for the first time, he burned to know all the details behind Luc’s assignment here. Only a handful of bounty hunters wound up in the job for reasons other than self-termination. Special circumstances. That detective’s instinct danced in anticipation of a clue beneath the surface.

He would have l
oved to pursue the investigation further, but the purple characters on his clipboard flashed like lightning.

Naturally
. Just when things are getting interesting, the Board crashes the party.

With an apologetic glance at Luc, he slapped his hand over his communication board.

“Jodie Rosalind Devlin,” the Voice announced, “endured a very difficult life before succumbing to a momentary weakness and committing suicide--”

Sean
pulled his hand away as if burned. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he looked up into Luc’s quizzical expression. “The Board already knows Jodie’s missing. They’re sending me after her.”

“I’m coming with you.” Luc lunged for the clipboard, fingers splayed to palm the jumping characters.

He yanked the device away, shielding it against his chest. “No, you’re not. This bounty’s mine. I’ll get the info and retrieve her. You can either go back to sleep or meet us at Reception.”

“She’s
my
trainee.”

“All the more reason why you can’t go after her,” Sean replied evenly.

Luc’s desperation became a palpable entity in the room, pulsing with the rhythm of a frenetic heartbeat.

“Trust me, Luc. I’ll take good care of her.”

His eyes dulled to flat metal. “See that you do.”

~~~~

A sudden slamming door, followed by a man’s tuneless whistle, broke through Jodie’s despair. Gabe!

Drawing herself into a tight
coil, she spiraled up toward the stucco medallion carved in the ceiling. Within seconds, she’d transformed to what the human eye would assume was a shaft of white sunlight.

H
eavy footsteps thudded down the hall, drawing nearer, until at last Gabe stepped into the makeshift studio. He’d lost weight. The chubby chipmunk cheeks she used to love to pinch now angled sharply toward his chin. His once beautiful gray-green eyes were now bloodshot and rimmed by dark purple shadows. Had she caused that haggard look in him?

Oh, Gabe, I’m so sorry!

Guilt nearly sank her to the floorboards, but she kept spinning, drawing on every atom of fortitude she found whirling inside her.

A cool breeze rippled
the air as he passed beneath her hiding place, his gaze focused solely on the painting on the easel. Shooting his weight to one hip, he stared at the image he’d conceived. “Hello, my lovely.”

The endearment
—and the memories the term inspired—shattered Jodie, and she fell in graceful beads to the floor, dust motes dancing on a sunbeam. Their first meeting came to her so clearly she may as well have relived every precious second.

She st
rolled through the Metropolitan Museum of Art, viewing a collection of Native South American Painting and Sculpture. Inside the Gallery of Portraitures, a man sat, sketch book in hand, studying a gouache painting by a Cuban artist of the 1940’s. Curious, she inched closer to the man’s sketch. In gray and red pencil, he’d captured the bold strokes, the foliage, the shadows of dark and light.

“Lovely,” she remarked before her brain stopped her tongue.

The man started, looked up from the drawing, his eyes wide. Hazel eyes with thick brown lashes she couldn’t attain with a whole tube of mascara and a gamut of makeup specialists standing by.