God's Eye (43 page)

Frustration flowed through Zachary. If Katharine was falling for this, then there was nothing he could do about it, except let it play out. He would simply have to counteract Allistair later. Which meant there were things he had to do, and he couldn’t do them here, hovering.

He was pulling away when he heard Katharine’s next question.

“Can Zachary really give me the Kingdom he showed me?”

Tell her, tell her, tell her.

Stopping dead, he felt the very human idea surging through his brain. Allistair had to answer her truthfully. This was not forbidden. He waited while Allistair hesitated. And waited. Until his rival was forced to say it. “Yes.”

Good. Allistair had just worked things in Zachary’s favor. And if he played his cards right, Zachary could build on that. Sometimes, the deals they had made worked in his favor.

Now, now there were things to do.

•  •  •

Katharine returned to her condo that night thinking of Margot and her date with Liam. She thought about what Allistair told her, and about how she wanted to look this Liam in the eyes before she left Margot with him. She remembered the eyes of the two beasts and became even more convinced of which was which.

So that meant she could tell the two creatures apart, and she knew now not to be afraid, but she didn’t know the rest. She was still no closer to knowing which man was which. Though Allistair had let her stare into his eyes for as long as she wanted, it had been to no avail.

She settled into bed without calling Margot. She was happy for her friend, but it was all moving so fast now that she wanted someone to talk to. Tonight. But she also didn’t want to interfere with her friend’s new joy, especially when all she had to offer were more questions and concerns.

Katharine drifted into sleep wondering what the next step was, what was in store for her now.

She didn’t have long to wait.

She woke peacefully a few hours later, feeling rested and safe. As she sat up on the side of her bed, she saw the man in the shadows. Unlike the inky blackness of the past, he was outlined by light, though she couldn’t make out his face.

She was learning, though. Maybe it was better that she couldn’t see his face. She couldn’t trust his face.

As she watched, he became lit from within, and gorgeous feathered wings unfolded to nearly the width of the room. His hand came out to her, palm up.

It wanted her to put her hand in his.

But still she waited, unsure.

A whisper echoed around the room.

Katharine, come with me, come with me, Katharine

Katharine curled into the heat of him. Here was everything she wanted.
He
was what she wanted.

Here, with him beside her, was safety, strength. She sighed against him, into him.

He was thrill and comfort, all soothing touches, soft lips against her temple. This was what she had waited for, even though she hadn’t even known she needed it or wanted it. It was simplicity wrapped in complex passion. In a word, love.

His hands stroked the sides of her face, laced into her hair, while his mouth wandered over her eyes, nose, cheeks–until his mouth found hers and he settled into kissing her, deep searching kisses of need layered with trust.

Beneath her palms he was supple muscle and smooth skin, moving against her not in the way of just a lover, but of someone who loved. Deep inside her, soft heat built into a roaring inferno for him. She wanted. She needed.
Katharine.

Her name escaped his lips as his legs entwined with hers. The silk of her pajamas prevented her from touching all of him, but she wasn’t quite rational, wasn’t quite able to do the logical thing and simply take them off.

He didn’t pressure her. He waited, kissing, tasting, touching her. He caught her sighs in his mouth, and answered back with her name again.

Katharine.

She opened her eyes to see his as he watched her unravel for him. Eyes like bittersweet chocolate looked deep into her own, and for a passing moment she wondered what he saw.

His hand traveled over silk, down her side and across her hip, tucking her close, keeping her body flush with his.

His name came out of her mouth as a wistful sigh.

Allistair.

“Allistair!” That time she hissed it.

Her eyes flew open wide as she pushed at him, yanked herself back from him, wondering what he had done to her. Then not wondering, as she realized she had pressed up against him, that he had taken advantage of her while she slept.

“Katharine, don’t–”

She shoved at him again, but he didn’t move. He protested again. “It isn’t–”

Lightning fast, her hands shot out again, giving another quick push. This time she managed to catch him by surprise and he toppled out of the bed, sputtering her name. “Katharine!”

“Get out! Get out! Get out!” She yelled it until she was hoarse, until she was more angry than scared.

Until he stood, blank-faced, then turned and walked out of the room.

It took only a few heartbeats for her anger to drive her after him, to yell some more.

But as she entered the living area, she caught the last glimpse of the man as he lowered into the floor, leaving a pile of black ash in his wake.

For a moment, she stood there in shock and stared at the pile of soot. Then, as it sank in, she began to shake. Great, head-to-toe spasms shattered any sense of peace she had clung to before she’d gone to sleep.

It was simply too much. She couldn’t take any more than she had. Keeping it together now took the very last of her reserves; she just might break next time. The tremors overtook her for a few minutes and she had to brace herself against the doorway, her hands against the jamb while she sucked in air and fought back tears. The scariest part was looking back at how much she had wanted him. She had needed him. And there, in her bed, the desire had felt so real.

Standing, shivering in her doorframe it no longer did.

After more deep breaths than should have been necessary, she turned to go back into her bedroom and cut her foot on a shard of glass.

•  •  •

“Margot, if Liam’s there just please tell him your crazy friend needs you,” Katharine pled into her cell phone as she drove the nearly deserted predawn streets.

Though still a little sleepy-sounding, Margot’s words proved she was alert. “He isn’t here. I don’t put out on the first date.”

It hit Katharine then. “Oh, my God! I’m a total slut.”

“No you aren’t, you were … coerced in some way.” She could hear Margot moving around the small apartment. Something clattered softly in the background. “That sounds really bad … just know that you aren’t a slut. Do you want to tell me now what happened to get you up in the middle of the night, or do you want to wait until you get here?”

“Both.” Katharine turned the key as she parked the car and was out and hobbling across the lawn and heading up the stairs before she managed the next words. “I’m already here.” She clicked the phone shut just as Margot opened the door for her.

“Come in.”

Katharine managed to half walk, half hop over to the couch and plopped down as Margot closed and bolted the door.

When her friend turned, the worry on her face couldn’t be hidden. “What happened?”

“I stepped on glass.” “On my lawn?”

“No, in my bedroom.” Katharine slid off her shoe and peeled back the Kleenex she had tucked in there to keep it from bleeding. “Do you have Band-Aids?”

“Sit tight.” Margot went into the bathroom and rummaged around. All of this was amazingly calm of her, as she had to know there was something up. Something big enough to send Katharine running to her place at 4:00 a.m. with a cut that she hadn’t even attempted to bandage.

Suddenly, Katharine realized she had done all this in her silk pajamas. This was it then–the moment when she realized she had snapped. That must be why Margot was being so calm. When Katharine was half a second from breaking down, Margot came back with a stocked white box with the big red cross on the front and Katharine nearly laughed. “Of course you have a full first-aid kit. You have everything.”

“Actually, I got it last week. I figured we might need it, so I splurged and replaced my rinky-dink one with the biggest home kit I could find.”

That explained why she had what basically amounted to a red plastic suitcase stuffed to the gills with rubber tubing, gauze, sterile wipes, and bandages of every size. She handed over one of the wipes and waited while Katharine cleaned out the cut, hissing between her teeth the whole time. A few moments later, a large cloth bandage covered the wound and Katharine began talking at about a mile a minute.

Margot was asking questions faster than she could talk, and certainly faster than Katharine could answer them. “It had feathered wings? What did you do? Did you touch it?”

“No, I threw my lamp at it.”

“You did?” Margot was in awe. “Why?”

“Angels don’t have feathers.” Katharine shrugged. It had seemed so logical at the time. People thought angels had birdlike wings, but that wasn’t what she had been seeing; it wasn’t what had appeared in the painting at all. So, upon seeing the creature reach out to her, contrary to hundreds of years of belief, she had instantly grabbed something to throw at it.

“Did you hurt it?”

“No, it disappeared before the glass even got to it. The lamp shattered on the wall.”

Margot absorbed what she could, then took a stab at it though she clearly didn’t think all the pieces worked. “So then you stepped in the glass and came over here?”

“No, I went back to sleep.”

“What?” Margot frowned at her.

“Yeah.” Though it didn’t make much sense at all now, it had seemed so logical at the time. What else was she going to do? She hadn’t wanted to ruin Margot’s date, so she hadn’t called, hadn’t told her about the false angel with feathered wings. Hadn’t shared the latest detail at 2:00 a.m. She’d laid down to wait for morning.

But now she told her about waking up with Allistair, and even though she tried to explain what she had felt when he held her, she couldn’t.

She didn’t have the words to explain it to herself, let alone someone else. And she was too embarrassed to try to say how swept away she had been, how fervently she had wanted him, how clear her thoughts had been when she did. It was only later that she realized what she was doing–and who with–and had gotten so upset. But she’d known it was him even while she slept. She would recognize the smell of him and the feel of his body heat anywhere. And she’d wanted him.

She didn’t know how to say any of that to her friend. But she did know how to say what she wanted. “We have to do the protection spell again. Allistair is more powerful. It worked with Zachary, but Allistair seemed to get through it.”

Margot’s eyes snapped wide. “It worked?”

“Yes, but I think only on Zachary.”

“How do you know?” Her friend leaned forward, her grin growing wider. “How could you tell?”

“Because when I talked to him, I saw what I was supposed to feel, I
knew
it, but I didn’t
feel
it. It just went past me. I don’t think that makes any sense, but …”

“It does. I get it.” Margot was nothing if not organized, and even as she was acting gleeful at their initial success, she was motoring around the apartment in her T-shirt nightgown and puffy, feathery slippers. In moments, she had everything they needed for the protection spell. They had bought three of each item, prepared to run the spell three full times if necessary. They had completely over-purchased. The herbs that were smoked and the candles, the salt–all of it was reusable. So it turned out they had enough materials to concoct protection spells until Armageddon. Or at least Katharine hoped they did.

They worked until the sun came up, doing the only thing they knew how to do to keep Katharine safe.

•  •  •

At 8:00 a.m. that morning Katharine had stood in front of her mirror and called Margot again.

She had swept up the glass in her bedroom and run the vacuum over it to get any small shards. She’d picked out a suit and laid it on the bed while she climbed into the shower. For some reason she had looked around before she climbed in, as though that would make any difference.

At least when she had turned the water on, she felt like she was alone.

When she climbed out, the message had been there.

So she’d copied it diligently twice–just like Margot. Then she had called her friend. After explaining all of it, telling her that this message was in the steam, and waiting through a small handful of questions, she asked one of her own. “Did you get the translation of the last message?”

“Oh crap!” Katharine thought she heard a horn blare in the background. Perhaps Margot was on her way to work? Margot sputtered, “I forgot to tell you. With everything else going on, I just forgot. It said ‘Trust in me’… Or at least I’m relatively sure it did.”

But who was she supposed to trust? Who had left the message? The black dog? The one who ransacked her apartment? Were they the same?