Prophecy (Residue Series #4) (17 page)

“Eggplant mousse!” he screamed before he saw us. “Absolutely divine!”

He was kissing an older man on the cheek by the time I stepped into the kitchen. Then his screeching seemed to be directed at us.

“You brought dinner guests!”

He had his wiry arms around Jocelyn and me before we even had time to respond.

“Actually, they’ll be staying a little longer than dinner,” Maggie informed him, dropping into a chair at the circular dinner table squeezed into the tiny kitchen. “If that’s all right with you.”

Neither of the men seemed too concerned, which I took as a good sign.

“Oh, pray tell!”

Eran laughed in a way that made it clear he was familiar with this guy’s antics. “Felix, this is Jameson and Jocelyn. And this,” he said to us, “is Felix Pluck.”

I noticed that as our names were mentioned, their expressions morphed from curiosity to understanding.

Without hesitating, Eran motioned to the expressive orange-haired man and said, “This is Felix, our resident cook.”

Felix seemed to appreciate that title as he tilted his head and cupped his hands to his cheeks. I wondered if he knew he was coming across like an adoring little girl, or even cared.
Probably not
, I decided.

“And this is Mr. Tanner, Maggie’s father.”

Mr. Tanner approached us with an observant, but sincere, gaze and shook Jocelyn’s hand first. He then took mine before confirming what I already knew. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

I was about to respond when three more people came through the door.

“And this is Ezra Wood,” Eran went on to say, tipping his head at the first to enter, a stout, dark-skinned woman with colorfully-beaded dreadlocks. She gave me a knowing look and headed for the counter where she poured herself a cup of coffee.

“And Rufus O’Malley,” Eran continued as a man the size of a tank trailed Ezra. He was tattooed with various symbols and names, and he was frowning. If anyone was going to give us trouble, I figured it would be him. But then he opened his mouth and directed his vehemence at Felix.

“Ya got rubbish in yer hair,” he grumbled in a thick Irish brogue. “It’s purple.” He then said something unintelligible under his breath as Felix attempted to bat it out.

The rest of the room tried not to laugh, but most of us were unsuccessful, and we ended up getting a hearty glare from Felix.

The last person to enter the room was Mrs. Tanner, Maggie’s mother, a woman the same age as her husband and with a maternal look about her. I had no doubt she and my mother would form an easy friendship if they met.

“You all live here?” Jocelyn asked, and without waiting for an answer, added, “Are you sure there’s room for Jameson and me?”

Ezra laughed to herself and replied, “There’s always room here for those in need.”

“Well, thank you for that,” I said and she gave me a warm smile from behind her mug.

“So you’re the ones who are working with Eran and Maggie against the Fallen Ones,” she said, inquisitively.

“The what?” Jocelyn and I replied in unison.

Maggie grinned. “That’s what we call them.” To Ezra, she remarked, “They call them The Sevens.”

“Ah,” Felix said, still wiping the purple from his hair. “Because there are seven of them left.”

“Six now,” Eran pointed out, and an elated pause in the conversation followed.

“Well,” Ezra sighed. “Thank you for your help.”

I felt my eyebrows go up. “I thought it was the other way around, but in any case I’m glad we’re working together.”

“Some of us are working together,” Ezra informed us with open displeasure before glowering at Eran. “But not all. Eran refuses to allow us in on the effort.”

Eran sighed. “I’m sorry, Ezra, but you are aware of what happened the last time we attacked.” To me, he explained, “We’ve considered another outright assault, but I’m not willing to risk losing Magdalene again.”

Maggie’s hand crept across to Eran’s, where their fingers curled together. My hand was already in Jocelyn’s, but seeing this gave me the impulse to squeeze it.

Eran and I didn’t know how long either of us had with the woman we love, and we wanted to make the most of every second.

“Sounds to me like you have an uphill battle, Jameson,” Ezra said, leaning on the counter. “The Sevens want you and Jocelyn dead and the rest of your world isn’t sure if they can trust you.”

“You heard about that?” I asked, amazed at her insight.

“I take a special interest in whatever situations Maggie and Eran get themselves involved in. Yours is of particular interest to me because of the Fallen Ones.” She closed her eyes and smiled widely when she reopened them. “The Sevens,” she corrected herself. “I understand you’ll be taking them out one by one?”

“Yes.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

“We’ll need to attack in force.”

“If you can’t get those in your world to trust you, how will you rebuild your army in order to do so?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” I admitted.

“And?” she pressed.

“Still thinking.”

She assessed me for a long minute, and then nodded her head as if she’d made her mind up about something. Whatever it was, it seemed to be positive.

“You’re just in time for dinner,” she announced, taking a plate from the mismatched stack next to a pot with purple…something…bubbling from it. “We’re having eggplant mousse, is that correct, Felix?”

“Yes, it is, my dear Ezra,” he said with a dramatic bow.

She bowed back, thanked him and scooped a good-sized portion onto her plate.

While it didn’t sound appetizing, Felix’s purple dish was just what we needed. Jocelyn and I finished ours and went for second helpings, which I got the impression gained us the status of lifelong friends in Felix’s eyes. It could have been because we hadn’t eaten anything in more than twenty four hours, but when I finally put down my fork I was beyond the point of feeling full.

Dinner conversation was fluid and light. No one brought up The Sevens again, but it never left my mind that these people were risking their lives if any Vires tracked us here. And I deeply appreciated it.

At the end, Jocelyn, Maggie, Eran, and I washed and dried the dishes as the rest left for their rooms. Ezra and Mrs. Tanner, however, stopped at the doorway. Simultaneously, they turned back to face me.

“If you’re staying here, you’ll need to follow the rules,” Ezra mentioned.

“Rules?” I repeated.

“Eran will fill you in.”

When she was gone and the girls were busy putting the dishes away, Eran whispered, “Separate bedrooms,” and my stomach sank.

Then I saw the way Eran’s mouth turned down in a suspicious smile and it made me think he got around that rule somehow.

“They’re not adamant about it.”

That was literally the best news I’d gotten in days.

The four of us headed upstairs afterwards and down a hallway that spanned the length of the house. The girls had their own rooms and I’d be sharing with Eran, just as Ezra had warned. Jocelyn’s room was on the right, next to Maggies, and Eran’s was directly across the hall. His was sparse, but I didn’t need much. My body was accustomed to sleeping conditions that would challenge most others. So when he threw me a blanket and a pillow, I laid them on the floor and settled in.

I was severely sleep deprived, and with food in my stomach, dozing should have come easy. But my mind and body were in synch and neither one wanted to shut down. After showering, I lay there listening to Jocelyn moving around her room. And a sort of peace came over me. She’d finally be able to sleep in a real bed. While that thought didn’t quench the arousal of knowing she was in bed, it made me feel like something considerable had been accomplished today. And in our situation, that meant a great deal.

When the house grew quiet, other than someone’s snoring rumbling through the walls, I heard Eran whisper my name.

“It’s clear,” he said. “Go to her.”

It felt like I was liberated, freed from a pair of chains.

By the second part of that sentence I was on my feet. By the time he’d finished it, I was at the door. I slipped through it and down the hall, hoping to God that her door didn’t squeak when I opened it. But as I put my hand on the knob, the snoring stopped, and I froze.

What am I doing?
I thought.
I’m in someone else’s house, sneaking into my girlfriend’s room, who is also a guest here. What a total lack of self-restraint…

But I couldn’t stop myself. I’d been given food, and that part of me was fulfilled. The greater part of me, the part that needed Jocelyn remained empty. That part hungered for her, yearned for her, ached for her.

“Jameson.” Her voice came through the dark, and the door opened to her silhouette, and I completely abandoned every sense of respect, every notion of civility, every manner I’d ever been taught.

I took her face in my hands and pulled her to me. And I kissed her deeply, taking her in, all of her…her taste, her scent. I was consumed by her. We stumbled back into her room, and I swung the door closed with my foot, a perfect force that allowed it to simply lock in place with a soft click. I was two steps in before realizing she wasn’t responding.

She couldn’t, not unless I absorbed her-

Jocelyn yanked her lips from mine. “No,” she declared in a firm whisper.

“Were you listening to my thoughts?”

“Yes,” she said without a hint of guilt. “And I won’t let you do that again.”

I frowned, although she couldn’t see it.

Restraining my thoughts, because my hands were still holding her and I didn’t want her to read them again, I said, “I have another idea.”

She didn’t move, and I figured this was because she was attempting to do what I didn’t want her to.

“You can stop. I’m not going to think it again. You’ve missed your chance.”

She snickered, although it sounded light-hearted.

“Where’s your bed?” I asked.

Her voice broke when she answered, and I knew she was nervous…excited but nervous. “Ov-ver there….”

“Can you lead me?”

She nodded, and I slid my hand down her arm, noting that it felt like silk against my skin, and then entwined my fingers with hers.

Once there, I whispered, “Lay down, Jocelyn,” and she did.

I settled into the exact same position I’d been in the last time we were in bed together, our bodies pressed together, my front to her side. But when I laid my hand on her stomach, this time, her heart fluttered. She knew what was coming, or so she thought; she anticipated it, wanted it. And knowing that was extremely rewarding.

So I did to her what I had done the last time we lay in bed together. Except this time, I used my lips. She quivered and moaned and sighed and each sound was a roadmap, leading me, showing me how to satisfy her. And when her back arched and she released, forgetting in the moment what that contact with me would do, I drew in her pain so that she could feel complete.

“Jameson?” Her voice came to me fuzzy, hollow, from down a long tunnel. “Are you all right?”

“Give…,” I grunted, “me a minute.”

The pain was just as intense as it had been the first time. There was no diminishing the potency of it even though I knew it was coming.

She sighed and reached out to comfort me, stopping just in time.

I’d recovered sufficiently to warn her. “Let me…get through this.”

She sat back and waited, and when I looked up, in the faint light drifting in from the window, I found there were tears in her eyes.

“No,” I sighed.
This was the last thing I wanted.

I took her in my arms and pressed her next to me, wanting to absorb this new sense of pain. When she recognized what I was doing, she wiped the wetness from her cheeks and insisted, “I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, I just-” Her hand came up, pausing in midair on its way to my cheek. “I just want to touch you, Jameson, before…”

And I knew what she meant.

She wanted to feel me once more, just once, without any pain, before she took my life.

“You will,” I said resolutely. “I’ll make sure that happens, Jocelyn.” She had lowered her eyes and was shifting her head slowly back and forth. “Do you believe me?”

When they rose again, there were fresh tears, but she nodded. And when she whispered her response, it summed up her entire life in one sentence. “Jameson…you’re the only one I believe in.”

THIS IS NOT FAIR!
my mind screamed. And as vengeance swelled in me, I pulled her back to my chest. I then pressed her head against me and tucked her hands around my waist because I knew she couldn’t.

“Are you comfortable?” I asked.

“Mmmm,” she murmured.

And that alone dissipated the anger I felt and made me smile. If it hadn’t been for her response, I’m not sure sleep would have been possible for me.