Shades of Gray: A Jude Magdalyn Novel (14 page)

I couldn’t breathe, and I couldn’t fight my way back to the surface. My shoulder screamed in protest as I tried feebly to swim upwards, even as my lungs burned at being so long without air. I hung there, suspended between life and death, the white of my sweater the only light in the darkness of the water.

Then, everything began to fade, leaving nothing but the blackness.

Chapter Fourteen

My first thought was
I don’t wear white. Nothing spells trouble and cash down the drain like Jude in an all-white outfit. Then I realized the hands I saw were too small to belong to anyone but a baby.

Shit - the Church was wrong and reincarnation did happen?

A frail, tinny wail spilled from my lips. My body cried and jerked for a few seconds before another realization hit me. If I’d been reincarnated, how could I still think like myself?

Something in the land of Denmark stank.

A face swam into view above me as the Shakespearian thought rattled in my supposed infant head. By now, I’d seen enough pictures and heard enough history to know the blurry face over me belonged to my father. Instead of broken and beaten, his face looked whole, unmarked.

“She has your nose, Martha. Thank God, as I recall what a trial I had all during school with mine.”

A second face appeared, chin resting on Luc’s - my father’s - shoulder. “Well, at least she got your coloring. I don’t think we could have done a better job of blending ourselves together if we’d picked it all from a catalog.”

“Not just our looks, Martha. She’s as strong as the two of us together and much more determined. I argued with you about the orphanage, but I can see you made the right decision.” His hand reached down and made a minute adjustment to my blanket, lingering for a moment.

“Maybe. Time will tell. Already she’s accomplished so much more than either of us would have thought possible.” Sliding around my father to kneel beside my bassinet, my mother propped her chin on the edge, nut-brown hair spilling over to pool like a blanket over me. This close, I noted tears running down her cheeks.

“We’re so proud of you, Jude. Never forget or doubt.”

The light faded, gray drifting into black, until nothing remained but the memory of their faces.

“She’s coming around, Gillian. She’s muttering something under her breath.” Theo’s voice was low and quiet and I tried to hold on to it, to fight my way out of the dark. The slight pressure of a hand smelling of chamomile and jasmine touched my forehead. Sweat dampened my skin, my palm slick when I reached out blindly for something, anything, to hold onto. I didn’t want to sleep anymore. I was tired of the dark.

The ridges and calluses of the hand told me it was Theo’s and I twisted my fingers until our fingers laced together. The pressure on my forehead pushed the black closer despite my struggles. With an angry murmur I slipped into sleep and back into dreams.

The uptown cemetery on Washington, Lafayette No.1 rose up around me, those strange tombs you really only see in New Orleans. A city within a city, its houses falling to ruins in spite of the efforts of others.

The ground was cold under my knees. The rain had soaked the ground for days, puddles and rivers forming in the little city. An icy wind blew and some part of me knew meteorologists would have a field day trying to explain the temperature drop at the height of August heat. Lightning flashed in the distance and close enough the sharp burn of ozone blew to me with the wind.

It was all secondary compared to the numbness at my core. My body could feel, and it did. Possibly the only reason I was on my knees and not laid out across the muddy ground. My soul felt nothing.

I watched my hand trace the edges of the tomb, like it belonged to someone else. Over and over, I traced the square, as if I’d somehow forgotten how, or had a reason, to do anything else.

Hands gripped my shoulders lightly, but the inexorable heaviness held firm. They would press me down into the earth if we - myself and the person behind me - would only agree to do it. Even though my heart lurched in welcome at the thought, to be away from this nothingness and with him again, I knew it wouldn’t happen.

“It’s been three days, Jude. You’ll flood the city if you don’t stop.”

The thought of the storm taking the city didn’t induce me to stop. A fierce spark of joy ate at the numbness. I hurt. So would they.

“If I could change things - if I could have died, instead of him, I would have done so, Jude.”

“I wish you had died. I wish it was you.”

The hands dropped away and though no words were said, I knew I was alone again with him and the storm, the night swallowing us up until I felt nothing at all.

“You’ve slept long enough
, Jude. You’ll wake, now.”

I squeezed my eyes tight against the voice, lovely with its Irish lilt but firm as concrete. Concrete. Sidewalk. Hart. Shit.

My eyes flew open as I sat up, causing a gasp of pain and pinpricks of light to go off in my head. The fireworks in my brain should have convinced me to lie back down, but I wasn’t called hard-headed for no reason. I fought against the hands trying to push me down to the bed.

“Jude Magdalyn Henries, if you don’t cease your behavior right this moment, I’ll use a ruler across your ass, no matter how hurt you are.”

Stunned, I did as instructed; laid back against the pillows, head propped up enough to see the room and those in it. My new position also meant I could gape at Gillian where she perched on the end of the bed.

“I didn’t even think you knew how to yell, or used words like ass like the rest of us do.”

“Good to know while the entire Covenant has been worried about your health, while Bridget has used all her energies to heal your injuries, while Theo has not moved from your bedside for over two days, you’ve been contemplating my vocabulary.”

“Enough, Gillian. Give the girl a moment to breathe.” A woman roughly Gillian’s age with long hair the color of fresh snow and eyes the color of grass fussed with the edges of the sheets, smoothing them over me. The hint of a smile played around her mouth and she winked at me, her face turned away from Gillian. “Truth be told, I didn’t think you knew some of the words you’ve used the past couple of days, either.”

She brushed my hair back from my face, studying me intently. Whatever she saw made her smile and pat my cheek. “Well, seems we’ve gotten it all straightened out finally. You did use a lot of my energy, dear, although there’s not a more worthy person to spend so much time on. You’ll want to rest some more in a moment, but a bit of food on your stomach will do you just as much good.”

She mentioned food and I realized I was hungry. Before I could speak, a tray slid over my lap, very slowly and carefully. I looked up into Rian’s face, tired but surprisingly peaceful. “Soup, until your system is completely healed. Well, gumbo, but that’s close enough to soup.”

Since I couldn’t agree more, I picked up the spoon and dug it into the bowl, scooping up shrimp and okra and rice. The mix burned my mouth and throat but tasted like heaven and I barely swallowed the mouthful before shoveling in another.

“If you eat too fast, you’ll regret it.” Theo’s spoke from my left and I slid my gaze in his direction. Gillian had mentioned he hadn’t left my side for over two days and the poor man looked it - although he pulled off a five o’clock shadow with incredible grace.

I swallowed another mouthful, pausing long enough before shoving the next one in to ask, “Who’s she? And what’s happened?”

“Try for a little dignity, Jude, instead of eating like a pig at the trough.” Gillian’s exasperated voice, made me roll my eyes, but I went from eating like a pig to someone who had missed a few meals. “She is Bridget, and she is now your personal healer.”

Another swallow, another question. “I thought you said I’m a healer.”

“You are, but the same powers that make you able to heal others leave you unable to heal yourself.” Bridget paused in her near-constant smoothing of the sheets to tilt her head and smile at me. “You can heal some things like most people - a cold, or a blister - but major injuries, whether physical or metaphysical, require outside healing.”

“Well, that sucks.” Gillian sighed and shook her head, I scowled. “It does. What’s been happening? You said I’ve been out for two days.”

“Nearly three. Hart was thorough in his effort to kill you, if unsuccessful. Rian heard your call. If you hadn’t freed him to be able to see without pain, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.” Gillian squeezed and released her fingers, a steady rhythm indicating just how pissed she really was. It added to the healthy respect I’d begun to foster for Gillian’s anger.

“Williams went in pursuit of Hart, tracking him down, but unable to bind him in any way.” Not just anger, but disappointment. I bet Williams felt a lot of the same. “Theo pulled you out of the river.”

I turned my head fully to look at Theo. I could see now the nicks and scratches around his face, probably from the river debris. Setting my spoon down, I reached out my right hand to lightly touch the one closest to his left eye. “You’re going to have a scar.”

His laugh sounded as tired as his face but his smile was genuine as he raised our hands to his lips, brushing them over the bruises on my knuckles. “My face was too pretty anyway. I needed something to mean it up.”

I smiled back at him, floating in the warmth he seemed to give off all the time. “Thank you.”

“It helped that you were wearing white. Something to remember for future swims in the river.”

A laugh tickled the back of my throat and I swallowed to keep it there. Gillian would not appreciate laughter. “I’ll do my best. Although I’m going to guess my sweater has seen it’s last of the mighty Mississippi.”

The throat clearing at the end of the bed reminded me we weren’t alone. Gillian didn’t look displeased, just impatient. “It took both Lies and Guile to convince the crowd what they had seen had merely been rehearsal for a movie soon to be shot.” I’d have to send them a fruit basket. I would also have to stop punching them. “You managed to dispose of nine vampires. Your injuries were… grievous.”

“You died, Jude.” I was going to get whiplash twisting back and forth between Gillian and Theo. Pain edged his eyes. “When I pulled you out, you weren’t breathing. Your heart had stopped. I had to do mouth to mouth before we could even move you back to the Crossroads.”

“Bringing you back to life was the easy part. Keeping you with us was much more difficult. You had extensive bleeding in your brain, from hitting the sidewalk and the stairs. Four broken ribs, a punctured lung, a dislocated shoulder and then you developed an infection from swallowing the river water.” Bridget shook her head, a tiny smile on her lips. “We really should have lost you, a few times. The fever was absolutely horrible, nearly as bad as the head wound.”

I nodded as bits and pieces of my dreams floated through my head. How much was real and how much had my mind made up while it lay dying? Did I really want to know?

Suddenly tired again, I sagged against the pillows, pushing the gumbo away. I hadn’t eaten much but my full stomach turned slightly queasy. Although that might have come as a result of being told I’d died once, and almost died a few more times.

Bridget instantly jumped to action, shooing Gillian and Rian out. Theo sat beside me and Bridget didn’t make any effort to have him leave the room with the others. She told him to get some sleep as well. When he bent in the chair until he could lay his head on the bed next to me, she shook her head and sighed before laying her hand on my forehead, chamomile and jasmine flowing over me. I shut my eyes and slid back into sleep.

I drifted up from sleep
without any dramatic instant awareness. Reasonably sure opening my eyes wouldn’t do any damage to the headache still tingling at the very back of my head, I opened them slowly, exhaling deeply when the throbbing failed to increase. As the rest of me continued waking up, I realized a hand gripped my left, and I felt the tiny wisp of movement indicating someone very, very close.

Risking it, I turned my head to the left, and found Theo’s rumpled head still lying on the bed next to our joined hands. I had a twinge of guilt - he’d have a hell of a crick in his neck later - but it felt nice to have someone there when I woke up. I’d woken up plenty of times alone.

“He never left your side. Not even when Bridget and Gillian threatened him with bodily harm. Eventually they gave up trying to make him leave.”

For the first time in the week I’d known him, he didn’t look pressed to within an inch of his life. His clothes looked like he’d slept in them, or whatever vampires do when the sun is up and they can’t go outside. He should have looked less man-candy-ish but he didn’t. When you’re never going to be the hotter one around a guy it’s seriously annoying.

“You don’t look surprised.” Williams crossed his arms over his chest, and even from where he stood next to the armoire across the room, I could see the faint ripple of muscle. Before the river dip, I would have licked my lips at the sight, but Theo had pulled me out of the river. Not Williams. Knowing you’re not the most important thing to a man who wants to sleep with you tends to kill some, if not all, of the lust buzz.

“No, I’m not surprised Theo was here.” I paused, chewing on my lower lip. I wasn’t going to ask the question I wanted to. I waited a minute. Hell. “Where were you?”

“Surely Gillian told you I was hunting Hart.”

“That you hunted Hart, but you couldn’t contain him, or destroy him, or whatever.” It took an effort, because the tingle of headache moved up to a dull throb, but I met his eyes anyway. “It didn’t take three days. Where were you?”

“You may be the Prophecy and the reason for the alliance, which I and those who follow me thank you for, but I owe you no explanation for my actions.”

“You always make a big deal out of being attracted to me, of wanting something huge from me. I think it makes me entitled to something in return.”

I thought for a moment he would leave. He started to, was halfway to the door before he turned and stalked back toward the bed. He stood at the foot, leaning down to brace his arms against the mattress, his head hanging while he struggled to control his breathing or temper or both. When he raised his head, his eyes were full of more pain than any person should be forced to hold inside.