hand of hate 01 - destiny blues (30 page)

   Rhys and Henri exchanged concerned looks. “Not exactly,” Rhys said.
 

“Well why don’t you explain exactly,” I demanded. Henri bore no resemblance to Oneiri, but something about Henri nagged at me. The tops of Oneiri’s ears had held the same gold rings, I remembered. I sniffed, but detected no telltale scent of licorice. “You said djemons died when their masters did, Rhys. Why did you lie to me? Why is he here?”
 

Oneiri-Henri began to yammer something unintelligible in French, and Rhys held up his hands. “Take it easy, both of you. Henri here is no longer Oneiri. Remember when Madame Coumlie told you she referred to the unnamed djemons as djinn?”
 

“What does that have to do with anything?”
 

“Djinn were, are the helpmates of the gods; able to assume two forms. In their original form, before they’re named, they are small creatures. They keep this form until they are blessed to become a servant. Becoming a servant is a big deal; to serve is everything. Most wait for an eternity until they are recognized by a master.”
 

“And then they become a demon. I get it.”  
 

“Demon is human term which connotes evil. The djinn are not inherently evil, Mattie. Who do you think built the pyramids, anyway? They’re merely servants; they exist to serve. Once they become attached to a master, they assume the same prevailing characteristics and traits as their masters. Everything they learn thenceforth is based on the personalities and proclivities of those they serve. Do you understand?”
 

“So how does Oneiri become Henri?”
 

“When Madame Coumlie died, Oneiri was released from his servitude. He had grown large enough as a djemon to assume a human form. We call ourselves anomalous individuals. You call us djenie. In the djenie form, he can blend in and live undetected as human. A practical choice made by many freed djemon, if they’ve grown big enough. Smaller djemon must choose a smaller, non-human form.”
 

A growing sense of unease came over me. “What’s to prevent a djinn from killing its master?”
 

“Many years of active service are necessary before a djemon grows large enough to survive its master’s passing. Oneiri had been with Madame some forty or fifty years, right?”
 

“I proudly served the Madame for more than a century. Please allow me to say that at no time was I tempted to shorten my service to the Hand of Fate. To the contrary, I would have laid down my life to save her, and did on several occasions.” Henri’s eyes brimmed, his emotions close to the surface.  
 

“A djemon which destroys its master is immediately banished.”
 

“Banished where,” I asked. I couldn’t shake the belief there was something more they weren’t telling me.  
 

“Who knows?” Both Rhys and Henri shrugged.  
 

My eyelid began to twitch.  “So what happens to you now,” I asked Henri. “What do you do?”
 

Henri smiled for the first time. He had an appealing boyish expression women were going to love.  
 

“Madame thoughtfully remembered to provide for me after her death, so I will not need to worry about employment for quite some time. Rhys is helping me to get on my feet, for which I am extremely grateful.   He has arranged for my identity papers, birth certificate, citizenship papers, my identification, and is teaching me to use the computer. With his help, I will be able to blend into human society and hide in safety. Tomorrow, I will be fitted for the contact lenses. Soon, I will look like everyone else.”
 

The truth hit me like a bucket of ice water. “So that’s what Mystic Properties is? A halfway house for djenies and other anomalous individuals? And you create identities for them. Falsify documentation. That is what we’re talking about, right?”
 

Rhys reached for me, but I backed away.  
 

“No, there’s more. Something else you’re not telling me.”
 

Henri frowned. “Non, Mattie, you do not understand. Once we lose our immortality, we are helpless.  We must learn to adapt and hide, or we die. Many die before they ever learn to live. The mage helps us.  This is one of the few places in the world where we can come and live in safety. Madame spent many, many years trying to persuade the mage before he agreed to come here.”
 

“Is this true?”
 

Rhys fidgeted uncomfortably, as if trying to decide what to say, and in a trick of the light, the last piece of the puzzle finally clicked into place.  
 

My heart sank and I blinked back the tears. I fought to keep my voice calm. “Oh, now I get it. You’re wearing contact lenses too, aren’t you, Rhys? You weren’t even going to tell me. You’re not even human.”  
 

I’d nearly made love to a demon. Or djemon. Or former djemon. Djenie. Whatever. What the hell was I thinking? Here I thought he was well, something. Maybe even someone special. The expression of guilt on his face confirmed the real story. I turned to leave, but he took my hand, folding it between his two. I didn’t want to go, but I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t even think.  
 

“Wait.” He lifted an eyebrow towards Henri, who took the hint and had the good grace to leave us. Rhys lifted my filthy bloodstained hand to his mouth and kissed my palm, pressing it to his lips. I just stood there, unable to move.   
 

“I thought you knew. I honestly believed you knew when you first met me. I don’t have a walk-in business, Mattie. Anomalous clients come to me strictly through referrals.”
 

“I didn’t come to you through a referral. I got your number from Karen.”
 

“Your great-grandmother hired me to find you four years ago. If you hadn’t resembled Oleanna so much, I would have never given you a second thought. I never would have answered your phone calls. I never would have kissed you.” He released my hand, and I felt a sense of loss.
 

“Yes. I was a djemon. A very long time ago, I served a well-educated master who  lived a long and prosperous life. Fortunately for me, my master chose to educate me and in doing so fostered in me a passion for learning. When my master died, I was released from servitude. Even so, I barely survived my transition to mortal life. Once I found my way, I decided to help others who faced the same challenges. Over time, other anomalous individuals came to me for assistance and when I could, I tried to help them. Is that such a crime?”
 

This was not what I’d expected to hear. It made me feel petty to think I had judged him without knowing him. I remembered what Henri had said. “Why did you come here?”
 

“I was living in Scotland when Madame Coumlie contacted me. She asked me about coming here and assuming guardianship of Shore Haven. She pestered me for years, trying to persuade me to at least consider coming for a visit. I admit the Hand of Fate is a legendary figure, and I was curious, but I did not want to come to America just yet.”
 

“Why?”
 

He shrugged. “I had my studies and still so much to learn where I was. North America is truly the New World. We corresponded regularly and after several years she sent me a formal invitation, signed by dozens of anomalous individuals. Residents of Shore Haven, some of whom had lived here for centuries. I was intrigued. I agreed to come for a visit. When I arrived, I sensed the same thing that attracted so many other refugees. A sense of place, a rightness. It’s hard to explain, but there are places on this planet that attract our kind. These places become lodestones for us.”
 

“You mean you have to stay here?”
 

“No. We just like living here. The air feels clearer, the water cleaner. Who knows? For us, these places feel like home. Of course, with all the government regulations, it is much riskier to live in the US than Europe or the Middle East, but as soon as I met the Hand, I decided to stay. Shore Haven is my home now.”
 

“For how long?” I didn’t want him to leave, but things were moving a little fast for me. I needed time to think.  
 

“That’s up to you.” He hooked a finger through my belt loop and tugged. I came closer, and he threw his arm around my shoulder. “The first time I saw you, I knew you would be trouble, but I had no idea. My only thought from that moment was that I wanted to know you. I mean it, I ache to touch you. But I make no apologies for who or what I am.”
 

If Kip, or a cop, or even a stockbroker had just given me this speech, I’d be over the moon. But Rhys Warrick wasn’t any of those things. He wasn’t normal; hell, he wasn’t even human. I had to admit I wanted him too, I wanted him bad. But wanting Rhys meant accepting all those scary unknowns along with him. No way to tell what kind of worms I’d find in that basket. It was enough to give a girl pause. He studied my face, waiting for an answer, and I owed him one.  
 

But not today.  
 

I let out a deep breath. “Look, I’m wiped out. We both are. Could we talk about this tomorrow? When we’re both a little more coherent?”  
 

He nodded, and I thought I saw something shut down in his expression, but at that point, I was just trying to be honest.  
 

I squeezed his hand. “I don’t want to say anything I might regret.”
 

“Sure. We can talk after the funeral.”
 

Oh man, I’d forgotten all about it.  
 

CHAPTER 36
 

Feeling Fragile and heartsick, I turned on the shower, and stepped inside to take off my clothes. The deep gashes on my left forearm and shin had closed, but the edges were still angry. Dried blood and guano clotted my hair, and angry purple bruises mottled my ribs, back, and butt.  
 

The physical pain faded as steaming water poured over me, and I savored the heat. I scrubbed myself until every last bit of me squeaked pruney clean. By the time I finished, the morning sky was beginning to show itself as a grey haze above the horizon. I tossed my filthy clothes into a big garbage bag. I remembered to call Blix and Larry from their hiding places, and set them up in a casserole dish lined with an old dishtowel. Not much of a bed, but would have to do for now. I set my alarm for noon and crawled under the covers, wet hair and all. I was asleep before I hit the pillow.  
 

The alarm woke me a few hours later. The heaviness I’d felt earlier had vanished. Funny what a good cry and a few hours of sleep can do. I got up and checked myself in the bathroom mirror. Not a mark on me, not even a bruise. Only a thin pink line remained along my arm where the machete had bit me. I looked good.  
 

Seeing my strange reflection in the mirror, I tried to convince myself I hadn’t actually killed Garr. I would never forget the sound his lifeline made as it popped between my fingers. But the fierce thrill of joy I experienced when he collapsed on top of me must have been dream. The loss of oxygen must’ve caused me to hallucinate. That part couldn’t be real; that would be wrong.   
 

Blix lay snuggled up in the casserole dish, and I found Larry curled up in the kitchen sink. He seemed to like the water. Both sat up, alert as soon as I came into the room. Cute. They were starting to grow on me.  I didn’t need to banish them with the others. I couldn’t imagine sending these two little guys to some dark cavern for the rest of eternity. My mother had died after spending two years in a locked ward. These little ones had never done anything wrong, they didn’t even smell anymore.  
 

“Relax, guys, you’ve got the day off.”  
 

I went into the bedroom to find something to wear to the funeral. I didn’t want to wear pants, but the only black dress I owned happened to be a sleeveless linen cocktail number with black beading around the neckline. A little dressy for the afternoon, but I decided to wear it. Black was Rhys’ favorite color. Besides, it looked good on me. I paired it with a peacock blue pashmina. The viewing would be inside, and I would need the scarf. If Rhys and I went out for dinner afterwards, I could carry it. Perfect.
 

I realized I’d made my decision. I wanted Rhys. I didn’t care what he was. Nobody’s perfect. Who was I to talk, anyway? I wasn’t exactly Webbers bread anymore, either.     
 

I checked my cell phone messages. Karen had left a message saying she’d see me at the visitation, and Fontaigne left a message saying Lance had been released, and they’d both be there. Nothing from Rhys.  I wondered if Oneiri would be at the funeral. Henri, I corrected myself.  
 

A sudden thought made me shiver. If I did kill Garr, what happened to Rex?  
 

CHAPTER 37
 

I pulled into the parking lot of Saunders Funeral Home at ten minutes to three, Rex still on my mind. I wanted to talk to Rhys before everyone showed up. A few cars had already arrived, but I didn’t see his truck. Then I remembered it was still parked on Sentinel Hill. Oops. I bet he wondered about that.