Meadow's Keep (The Gatekeepers Series) (4 page)

He saw the slight movement of her shoulders.
“Throwing off ghosts,” he asked. Something was bothering her. That thread led to the pulled-in aura. Bad time with a man, would be his guess. “Okay,” he said and held up his hands. “I will try my best NOT to touch you. But I must admit, in terms of fair disclosure, touching you is something I very much would like to do.”

He watched her pull inward again. Although her body didn’t actually move,
it was as though armor went around her.

“I said ‘like to’ not
‘would.’”

He could see she was trying to relax.

“Let’s talk about this Ruthorford.” He pushed her drink toward her, encouraging her to stay.

“Okay.
” She took a small sip. “Ruthorford is a small town in the mountains of Georgia. Many of its inhabitants are descendants of the founding families. I’m one of them. My suspicion is that you and Dorian are, too.”

“This Dorian, he’s not from there?”

“No. He was born in Washington, DC, but he became the ward of Mel and Thom Kilraven and grew up in Ruthorford.”

“
And his wife?”

Jasmine took a deep breath. Talk about complicated. Yet, this was still the easy part. “
Morgan is the natural daughter of Mel and Thom, but was adopted by Becky and Talbot Briscoe and raised in Virginia.” She glanced around. “Not too far from here, actually.”

He started to open his mouth to let
the questions pour forth, thought better of it, and closed his mouth again.

Jasmine laughed. “Yep,
now you’re getting the hang of it.”

He seemed to ponder something before he spoke. “I have a small plane at the airport. We could fly down after th
e show closes. Brandy, that’s my assistant, can go on with the show and I’ll catch up later.”

He saw panic
flicker in her eyes before she looked down.

She ran her finger around the rim of her cup
. “You fly down. We’ll have a car meet you. I’ll go in the Abbott House plane.”

Something really s
pooked her. He tried to make it light. “You do understand I’ll be flying the plane?” he said, letting a teasing note tinge his statement.

She blushed
, but stood firm. “I’ll meet you there.”
Geez.
It’s not like he could fly a plane and attack her at the same time. Maybe she needed a few more sessions with Dr. Browne, after all.

He shrugged.

Deciding a change of subject was needed, Eryk held up his hands. He looked around and, when he saw no one nearby, let the sparks fly from one hand to the other. “What do you know about this?”

Jasmine
lifted her hands. He watched as a more delicate, finer thread of current moved from the tips of her long fingers to the tips on her other hand. “Family trait,” she said and put her hands down in her lap.

“What else can you do?”

A glint showed in her eyes. “I’m not a dog. I don’t do tricks.” It came out more clipped than she’d intended.

“Whoa. I didn’t mean to imply…,” he frowned as the words died.

“Sorry. I might as well tell you. Not many people know I can do that. It’s new to me,” she said, then realized she’d confided in this complete stranger something she couldn’t bring herself to tell her therapist.

Nervous,
Jasmine reached over, took a sip of the soft drink, and realized all the ice had melted. It wasn’t particularly warm out. She looked down into the cup. Not a single piece of ice remained. She looked up, sensing a feeling of warmth around her. She had an urge to heighten her own senses, something she’d tried but hadn’t been able to do successfully. She could dampen her energy a little to keep from shocking someone, but that took a lot effort. She knew Morgan and Dorian could heighten their perception of their surroundings, but she couldn’t quite get the hang of it, and was too embarrassed to ask. Suddenly, she wanted very much to learn all sorts of things.

He watched, then as if reading her mind, he
spoke softly, “Close your eyes. Let your other senses open. Feel your surroundings.”

With
only momentary hesitation, she did as he suggested. Immediately, she felt the warmth. Like a shell surrounding them—a protective barrier of energy. She could reach beyond it, but sensed others couldn’t penetrate it. She pushed and felt her energy brush against his.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. “Thank you.”

Her voice was quiet. Soft, a like a caress. Of course, to put the barrier up, he had to be open, so he was more sensitive to her projections. He took a deep breath and dampened his energy. The barrier dropped, taking hers with it.

Jasm
ine felt the change immediately The safety of their cozy cocoon was gone. Feeling raw and open, she rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “You’ve been doing that.”

He nodded.

“Not to be trite but, what else can
you
do?”

“Unlike you,” he
said and laughed, “I specialize in tricks.”

“Eryk
…Eryk!”

Eryk stood, looking around. “Over here,” he
called.

A gangly teenage boy raced from the auditorium, his face beet red.

Eryk moved toward him. Jasmine followed.

“It’s Pops! He’s pinned his arm in a gear.”

Eryk turned to Jasmine. “Call 911,” he ordered and took off running after the boy.

Jasmine pulled out her phone and
hit the numbers while running, hoping not to lose them. When the operator came on, she gave the location and running closer, saw the crowd. “It’s a ride next to the Ferris Wheel. Man has his arm caught.”

She stepped closer and saw Eryk move in toward the working
s of some sort of contraption. Parts lay on the ground. An older man, the color drained from his face, was on his side. His arm, up to his elbow, was inside a piece of equipment.

Eryk knelt next to him. He moved his hands
over the gears. He pulled back and placed a hand on the old man’s shoulder and said something. The man nodded and seemed to relax. Eryk turned to her.

“I need your help.”

She stepped forward, shoving her phone into her pocket.

“When we touch
ed before, my power surged. I need you to do that now.”

She swallowed,
but nodded. To get close enough to Eryk, she had to step across the man, straddling his body.

“Wait
‘til I’m ready, Bobby,” he directed the young boy. “When I say, I want you to pull Pops toward you. Okay?”

Bobby,
tears streaming, wiped the back of a greasy hand across his face and nodded. He grabbed the old man’s legs and watched them slip. Wiping the grease from his hands on his own pants, he grabbed hold.

“Not
‘til I tell you.”

Bobby nodded again and
planted his feet.

Eryk, never touching the equipment,
moved his hand near the surface of the machinery. Jasmine saw small sparks fly between metal and hand. His hand stopped. Without looking back, he stretched his other hand out behind him. Jasmine swallowed once and clasped her hand around his wrist. His hand immediately latched onto her wrist. She edged closer to Eryk, their bodies almost touching. She felt the kick of energy and current flowed back and forth. Her own heart beat in her ears. Then, she heard two beats. The current leapt. Their heartbeats synchronized into one strong beat. She imagined her energy flowing into him and closed her eyes.

“Now
, Bobby,” Eryk hissed.

She heard the machinery groan but was afraid to look. Instead, she concentrated on the flow of current.

A siren screamed in the distance, coming closer. She focused on the heartbeat.

“It’s okay,” Eryk
’s whisper caressed her ear. She opened her eyes. He was standing next to her.

The old man, Pops
, was lying on the ground. He was pale, but color was coming back into his face. His arm looked bruised, but there wasn’t a lot of blood. Several people tended him.

Eryk
, holding her hand, pulled her away from the crowd. They moved into the recesses, under the trees, their hearts still hammering a quick staccato beat. He turned to her, looked into her eyes and murmured, “I’m sorry,” just before his mouth crushed down on hers. She stiffened. Still clasping her hand between their bodies, he let his other hand caress her neck, tilting her head up to meet his.

His warm lips moved over hers. His
tongue touched the seam of her lips and she felt her lips part in response. As though dissociated from herself, Jasmine felt her body relax as his warmth filled her. The panic and desire that warred within her subsided. Unable to resist, she leaned into him, feeling their clasped hands against her chest.

He lifted his head and watched as her obsidian eyes opened
and looked into his.

“I…I,” he stopped. There was nothing to say.
He couldn’t any more explain to her the need that had overcome him than—

“Mr. Vreeland,” a man
interrupted.

They moved apart. As soon as their hand
s separated, she felt cold, bereft.

The
EMT moved in and questioned Eryk about what happened. She watched Eryk do his thing, pushing a suggestion, and the EMT thanked him and returned to Pops.

“Did you do that
, the push thing, with me—just now?”

He looked at her for a long moment. “No.” He started to step toward her and stopped. “That was just us.”

“Thank you.”

He smiled. “Any time.”

“No. I mean for not pushing the suggestion.”

“I wouldn’t.” With that
, he turned back toward the crowd, which was parting to let the gurney through. He walked over to the man they called Pops, put his hand on the older man’s shoulder, and spoke. Pops forced a smile.

Eryk walked back over to her. “I have to get ready for the show.
” He studied her face. His voice but a whisper, he said, “Stay.”

“I can’t.” Watching his face, she added. “I have to get back.”

He reached in his pocket and pulled out a card, took a pen and wrote. “It’s my cell phone. Call me. I’ll meet you whenever or wherever you want. And, I promise to behave, if you want to fly with me.”

She
arched an eyebrow at him, but took the card.

“At least think about it.”

“I will."

*
***

Eryk Vreeland gave the performance of his life. Whether it was the excess energy coursing through his
body or the memory of the enthralling woman fixed in the back of his brain, he had no idea. But, every step was precise, every illusion perfect. Except…they weren’t all illusions. He used his natural abilities and forged them with professional techniques to elevate the performance one step above plausible. He wished she’d stayed.

At the end
, the crowd was on its feet. The applause was almost deafening. He waited until it calmed down and brought his father on stage. They had performed this act many times. Only this time, Eryk looked at his father differently. He saw the hesitancy as they moved closer together. He saw how Donald wouldn’t meet his eyes. He accepted the small check and, with a puff of smoke, the check appeared huge—a wall between them.

His parents
didn’t wait to see him after the show. By the time he was done, their limousine had long since left the fairgrounds.

Chapter Three

Fog had rolled in, filling the dips in the road with cloud-like wisps, slowing Jasmine’s drive back and giving her more time to think about what had just happened. After agreeing to Bask’s request to go see the magician, she’d convinced herself that she was going back to see Eryk for Ruthorford, Abbott House…even Dorian. Maybe even Eryk, himself. Not for her. Of course, she’d been intrigued by the magician. She’d never met anyone like him and, coming from Ruthorford, that was saying something. She decided that she’d study him, like some specimen, something unique to Ruthorford.

Yet, as soon as she
’d laid eyes on him standing on that stage, she’d felt the pull. The attraction. She hadn’t felt it with anyone in Ruthorford, including Dorian. She’d always thought that was because she’d lacked something. She didn’t have descendants’ traits. At least not the traditional ones. But neither did Eryk.

W
hen his mouth had crushed down on hers, she didn’t fry him—the reaction she was sure would happen to any man who laid hands, or lips, on her. Instead, she melted into him as his energy filled her, compelling her to respond. Jasmine’s fingers brushed her lips, aware of the tingle his memory brought.

Damn!
She slammed her hand against the steering wheel, felt her energy surge, and nearly drove off the road when the car alarm went off, the short, sharp BBBMMM, BBBMMM, BBBMMM filling the car. She  pulled onto the shoulder just as her headlights started blinking. Frantic, she flipped switches and pushed buttons, to no avail. In an act of desperation, she turned off the engine and found herself plunged into the dead black of night. Except for her hands, where tiny arcs of static fizzled around her fingertips.

Jasmine took several deep breaths and tried to dampen her energy, watching her hands.
The arcs disappeared and she sat in total darkness, afraid to touch anything around her. A car whooshed passed her. “This is stupid,” she said aloud, grabbed the key and turned it. The SUV started right up, no beeping, no flashing, nothing. Another breath and she pulled back onto the road.

In the next small town
, Jasmine pulled through the Burger Bite drive-thru, ordered a cheeseburger, fries, and a milkshake and pulled into the only vacant parking space. She nibbled a fry, watching teenagers enter and leave the small burger joint, stopping to talk with other teens they passed. Obviously, this was the only hangout in the small town and business was booming.
Not bad!
She took a big bite of her cheeseburger and enjoyed the flavors.

Under normal circumstances, her diet was much more control
led. However, about a half-hour after she left the fairgrounds, her stomach had started growling and she’d wanted to eat—right then. She’d pushed it away. Then, after the car acted up, she caved and started scouting the highway for some place to get food.

The heavy meal
did its job in calming her, so when she did call Bask, she felt more in control. As was his habit, the old man fired question after question at her. She left out her part in the emergency—and the kiss, of course. Bask wanted Eryk in Ruthorford as soon as he was able to make the trip. He offered the plane and, when she said Eryk had his own, Bask assumed she would be riding with him and went on to the next topic. Then, something or someone distracted him and, with a quick “talk to you later,” he was gone. Looks like she was riding with Eryk, after all. She wasn’t sure if the butterflies were because of Eryk, flying, or both.

It was late when she pulled up to the gates of Safe Harbor, the place she’d called home for the last year. She moved forward and stopped, watching the gates open. Easing through
, she stopped and looked in the rearview mirror until they had closed behind her. Funny, it had become second nature to her, making sure those gates were closed securely.

Jasmine
pulled into her parking spot and stretched as she got out of the vehicle. Her muscles ached as if she’d just competed in a triathlon. She twisted to release the tightening muscles in her back. She felt rumpled. God, she hoped she saw no one until after she’d had a nice, long, hot shower and put on some fresh clothes.

She unlocked the front door and eased it open.
Jenn, for a change, was not on the ready for anyone entering the house. Of course, with the amount of security in and around the compound, she didn’t need to be. She usually was, nevertheless. Jasmine walked across the foyer toward the wide steps that led one level up. There the huge lounge/waiting area with a large screen television sat empty.

As
she approached the stairs, she glanced to her right. A soft light glowed under Dr. Browne’s door. She walked to the door and tapped.

“Come in,” Dr. Browne
’s muffled voice called through the door.

Jasmine turned the knob
, pushed open the door a crack, allowing her to peek around the door. Dr. Browne sat at her desk, hunched over, her reading glasses perched on her nose, scanning a file. As Jasmine pushed the door open further, Dr. Browne raised her eyes to look over the upper edges of the glasses and, seeing Jasmine, sat back and pulled off the half-glasses.

Li
ke Jasmine, Dr. Browne looked disheveled, not uncommon for the doctor, and tired—a rarity. The low light from the desk lamp softened the dark circles under her eyes, but they were there, nevertheless.

“You’re here awfully late,” Jasmine looked at her watch. It was after
ten.

Dr. Browne’s eyes shifted to the small clock on her desk. She refused to have one displayed where a patient
could see her mark time, or do it themselves. “Dr. Yancy called me in. A late arrival.”

“Anything I can do?” She
had inventories of clothing for new arrivals. Best to get them out of the clothes they wore in and get them freshened up as fast as possible.

“Jenn took care of it. How was your evening?” She
angled her head to one side as if to study Jasmine.

Jasmine shifted on her feet, suddenly self-conscious. She flushed.

“Want to talk about it?”

“It’s late.”

“I don’t have any plans. Do you?” She rose from her desk, walked over to a credenza and pulled out two china cups. “How about you share some tea with me? I could use some.”

Jasmine
tried to look relaxed. “I can do that.”

Dr. Browne leaned over and flipped a wall switch.
Small spotlights cast a soft light on the credenza, as well as a small table and chairs nearby. She put several small scoops of loose tea in a ball, closed it and set it in the delicate pot. Picking up the electric kettle always ready with hot water, she poured the water over the tea ball.

Watching her reminded Jasmine of the many times she’d
enjoyed a similar tea ritual in Ruthorford. Mel and Thom had specialized in herbal teas—among other things. She and Dorian had sat up late many a night, drinking tea and talking.

Dr. Browne carried the tray with the pot, cups
, and two biscotti over to the table and set it down, easing her bulk into the chair opposite Jasmine. Not until the tea was poured into the cups and she was stirring in honey, did Dr. Browne speak.

“
It’s been a rather enlightening day,” she took a sip of the steaming liquid and set the cup down.

Jasmine ran her hand through her short hair
. Sometimes, when her energy was up, the tips would rise to meet her fingers before she even touched it. “How so?” she asked, trying to act nonchalant.

“First, Dr. Yancy
came to see me. Later, it was Jenn. Then, I got a call from Bask.”

Jasmine took another sip, felt the blood drain from her face, and took several quieting breaths.

“They care a great deal about you.”

“I care about them. So
, what did they say?” Jasmine slowly stirred the liquid in the cup.

Instead of speaking, Dr. Browne reached over and took Jasmine’s
other hand, lifted it and turned it palm up.

Jasmine fought the urge to pull back. The touch was feather-light. She watched Dr. Browne study her slender hand.
Gently, Dr. Browne returned it to the tabletop.

“Does
n’t that constitute a betrayal of confidence?” Jasmine asked, knowing why Dr. Browne was studying her hand and imagining the conversations about her.

“Not when it’s doctor to doctor. And,” she looked into Jasmine’s eyes, “when it h
as your best interest at heart.” The doctor took another sip of tea. She was so good at drawing time out. “Jenn came to me after you left and explained that Bask had sent you back to talk to that man at the fair. Then Bask called me about thirty minutes ago, after he talked with you. Believe it or not, he’s also concerned about you.”

Jasmine smiled. For all his gruffness, Bask had a kind heart.
Having known him all her life, she’d seen both sides. Sure, she chided him like crazy, but she felt certain he knew she adored him. His was not an easy job—an avocation, really—being in charge of Abbott House and looking out for the founding families. That was a conversation she’d liked to have overheard—him talking to Dr. Browne.

Jasmine sat back, moved her head back and sideways,
stretching her neck, trying to relax the tightness that had returned to her shoulders. She took a deep breath and let it out. Slowly, she raised her hand, held her fingers and thumb to form a C, concentrated and made the energy leap between her fingers and thumb. Carefully, she turned her hand palm up and flattened it out. A ball of energy formed and danced lightly above her palm. She blew on it. With a poof, it disappeared.

Dr. Browne sat
immobile, applied her best therapist look, and appeared as though she saw people do that all the time. After a moment, she let out a laugh. Self-conscious, Jasmine slipped her hand off the table into her lap. Dr. Browne shook her head slightly and smiled. “Wow. That was something.” The therapist was good at her job and her own smile had Jasmine relaxing, until she smiled back.

Yet, inside Jasmine’s mind raced.
That little demonstration was effortless—nothing compared to what it would have taken yesterday. After what had transpired at the fairground with Eryk today, she felt as though she was twice as strong.

Her thoughts turned to Eryk
and the reason she was stronger—their shared connection. When he’d clasped her wrist, she’d felt the power flow both ways, not just from her. Yet, it was her added strength that enabled him to manipulate that machinery. She wasn’t sure exactly what he’d done, but when it moved, the man’s arm had slipped free. Then, Eryk had pulled her away from the crowd and kissed her. As if thinking about the kiss gave it life, her blood raced and she felt the heat move through her body. Feeling the doctor’s eyes on her, she felt the blush crawl up her neck to warm her cheeks.

“What’s that for?” Dr. Browne was watching her.

“Nothing.”

Dr. Browne lif
ted a single brow. She was the only person Jasmine knew that could do it as well as she could.

“He kissed me
,” she blurted out. Maybe if she said it out loud, the power of it would dissipate.

“Who kissed you?”

“Eryk.”

“The magician?”

Jasmine nodded, watching, looking for some sign of judgment. There was none.

“And he did this why?”
Dr. Browne drew out the words.

Jasmine smirked
and shot the doctor her most arrogant look. Seeing that she wasn’t buying it, Jasmine said, “Okay, it was after we joined our energies to free a man’s arm. The energy was flowing strong between us. It was almost like being on too much caffeine. He pulled me aside and kissed me.”

“Are you okay with this? How did you react?”

Jasmine remembered the initial panic, then the warmth.

“
Well, I didn’t fry him.” Her sarcasm died almost before it was out of her mouth. “At first, I was startled. Frightened. Then…I suppose I kissed him back.”

Dr. Browne smiled. She really smiled—to the point where the edge of her gums showed. Her eyes twinkled.
She reached over and patted the hand resting on the table. “There is much we need to work on. You know that. But, you didn’t panic.”

Hearing that,
Jasmine decided, to be fair, she needed to divulge one more thing. “Dr. Browne, there’s a reason I’m okay about what happened. Not perfect, mind you, but okay.” She took a deep breath, not sure if this information would set her back in the good doctor’s eyes. “I’ve been practicing.”

“At
kissing?”

Jasmine choked out a laugh. “Here? No. At using my
ability…to break locks.”

“I see. And are you successful?”
When she’d first seen Jasmine, nearly a year ago, Jasmine’s arm was in a sling, her face bruised and swollen and her spirit all but broken. Her kidnapper had chained her hands to a mine timber and repeatedly raped and beaten her. Dr. Browne swallowed, remembering the injuries the poor girl had sustained. But, she’d proven resilient, even from the first. She’d known Jasmine would heal and deal with what had happened.