Shades of Gray: A Jude Magdalyn Novel (6 page)
“Gillian, you’re going to ruin your nerves completely if you continue at this rate. You know as well as I do, neither Hart nor any of his minions venture out in the daylight hours, nor does Hart believe in “stooping” to using humans.” Williams cracked his neck, sighing heavily before continuing. “The only time Jude Magdalyn will be in any danger is from sundown to sunup. Which is why I suggest she be assigned a guard of her own, preferably an even dozen.”
“Magic number.” When Williams and Gillian turned shocked faces in my direction, I threw my hands in the air. “Geez, you complain I don’t know enough Wicca, voodoo stuff, then look shocked when I show a glimmer of knowledge about what’s going on. Make up your damned mind.”
Williams smiled while Gillian looked more stressed. “We do seem to be of a somewhat divided mind, don’t we? Rest assured, our overarching goal is one we both agree on, and while our personal methods for reaching it may differ from time to time, it is the goal of the greater good that truly matters.”
“Well, as long as it’s for the greater good,” I replied, more than a little sarcastically. While it was great to not have to worry about bills or a roof over my head ever again, it didn’t make the fact I was going to have a dozen men watching my every move once the sun went down any easier to swallow. I’d never been the type of girl who liked having a shadow and I had a feeling a dozen of them would be twelve times as annoying as just one.
“You must learn to think of the greater good before anything else, Jude Magdalyn, if we are to win at this battle.” Gillian dumped her tea down the sink, confirming my assumption of its nastiness. “Hart and his forces already have a hefty advantage in light of your general inexperience. While the powers of the Covenant are vast, in the end, a battle will commence and you will fight Hart on your own. It is our job to ensure you live beyond the battle.”
“Yeah, I get this is really serious. I do.” I stood up, rolled my shoulders out, pleased when the motion didn’t send pain screaming down my back. “But what everybody apparently has forgotten is, even though I may have spent my early years in the convent school, I’ve spent nearly a decade in the real world, on the streets. Trust me, if Hart thinks he’s scarier than a winter night in D.C. with no money and no place to stay, he’s sadly mistaken.”
Gillian threw her hands up in the air, in a gesture so reminiscent of the Mother Superior I automatically flinched, a reaction that even twelve or thirteen years after the last time I’d been on the receiving end of a blow was still instinctive. I could tell by the look on Williams’ face he knew why I’d flinched and I rolled my eyes to cut off his sympathetic look. He broke into real laughter, not the fake kind reserved for awkward social moments, which this definitely was turning into.
Shaking his head, he stood, sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “I think, Jude Magdalyn, we all underestimate you. I believe Hart is in for more than one unwelcome surprise before this is all over.”
Gillian shook her head tiredly. “Let us hope the surprise is how long she lasts, and not how easy she was to kill.”
I opened the window and reached for my emergency stress pack of cigarettes. “Well, I hope you’re not this chipper all the time. I don’t know if I’ll be able to stand it.”
“Please, tell me you’re fucking joking.”
“Jude Magdalyn, your language leaves something to be desired.”
I stared at Gillian. “If my language is the only problem we have at this particular moment, we’re doing real good.”
I stepped off the sidewalk at the corner of Royal and Ursuline, flicking off the driver who honked the horn when I crossed in front of his car. I stared at the building in front of me, and shook my head. “I own the house catty-corner to Jacques St. Germaine. This is so not fabulous.”
The building at 1041 is infamous, nearly as infamous as the Haunted House a little bit further down Royal back towards Esplanade. Both have bloody, supernatural histories, and both ooze evil. Germaine’s more specifically involved loose women, bottles of bloody wine, and a cult in his name. Lucky me, I could see his resting place from my front door.
Never has the saying about there being no such thing as a free lunch been more relevant, at least to my way of thinking.
Williams caught up to me as I reached out and to touch the padlock that was the only visible sign of security on Germaine’s building. “Really, Jude Magdalyn, I think it would be safe to say - doing what you seem to want to would not be the best move.”
I glanced from the lock to him. “Why? I just want to know if I need to worry about a guilt-free killer hopping over to borrow a cup of sugar, or some wine to go with the blood he just collected. I’m looking out for my personal safety.”
Williams grabbed my hand and pulled me a few steps away from the door. “Jude Magdalyn, Jacques St. Germaine has left the city relatively alone for a number of years now. No one would thank you if you were to annoy him.”
I widened my eyes at him. “Annoy him? Whatever makes you think I would do something like that?”
“Because you lack discipline and focus,” Gillian snapped from behind us. She had crossed the street, but refused to step onto the sidewalk. Maybe she didn’t want any of the evil of the building to rub off on her. Or maybe she was just cranky. With her it was impossible to tell.
“I’m sorry, finding out about homicidal neighbors is sort of a priority as far as I’m concerned. Like you keep reminding me, I have no idea what I’m doing so forgive me if I focus on the little things like my neighbor murdering me in my sleep because that’s what he does.” The sarcasm might have been a little bit thicker than needed, but I was getting frustrated. All I’d heard for the past twenty hours was how inept I was and quite frankly I was sick of it.
“Ladies. I think we are all forgetting why we’re here.” Williams turned me away from Germaine’s building and back towards my own. “If we could all hold our tempers - and tongues - for a bit longer, perhaps we could manage to deal with the admittedly valid points raised.”
I eyed him suspiciously as we crossed the street again to where our ensemble waited patiently. “You weren’t by any chance a politician before you were turned, were you?”
The left corner of Williams’s mouth turned up slightly and I felt his fingers relax their one-step-below-viselike grip on my arm. “No, that is one occupation I have been fortunate enough to never have taken up. But seriously, Jude Magdalyn, will you do the city of New Orleans a favor and not disturb St. Germaine?”
“I promise to leave him alone as long as he returns the favor,” I replied fervently, crossing myself more out of habit than out of true fear. I didn’t have to look at Gillian to know she was rolling her eyes, something I was beginning to anticipate in much the same way I did Williams’s low chuckle. My guard made no sound as we crossed the street back toward them. No sound. No movement. I was beginning to wonder if they even blinked.
Standing in front of a house that had survived more than me, I had a sudden, acute longing for my crowded, but very much my own, apartment. Yes, this building had been my mother’s, and her mother’s, and so on for God knows how long, but it wasn’t mine. Looking at the key in my hand and the lock it would open, I wanted to hand it back over politely, find the closest bar, and get so drunk I couldn’t remember my name, let alone any of the other events from the recent past.
“Open the door, Jude Magdalyn. You can deal with all those messy emotions you’re undoubtedly feeling once we’re out of the open.”
Gillian’s voice shook me out of my ponderings and I had to resist the urge to snap her head off. Settling instead for a glare, I climbed the small set of stairs, jingling the set of oversized keys in my hand. I pressed a hand against the smooth, polished door, curious at the warmth emanating from the wood. Behind me, I heard a murmur almost overshadowed by the light gust of wind rushing through the street.
“Open the door, Jude Magdalyn. The house waits for you, and it grows impatient.” Williams lifted my limp hand and slid the key into the lock with minimal effort on my part. The tumblers shifted smoothly and I could almost see them fall away. Our hands turned the knob and the door swung open without a sound. The keys dropped from my hand as I took my first look at what had been decreed mine.
Every surface gleamed, sparkled or shone, and the rest were free of any sign of dust or neglect. The foyer boasted a long row of china cabinets on either side filled with pictures and books rather than any plates or statuettes. In the quiet of the house I could hear a clock ticking, and had the vague, slightly insane hope it was a Grandfather clock. They always seemed to me the epitome of quiet wealth.
As I wandered further, the foyer giving way to a short hall ending in a flight of stairs, the others - except Williams - flowed around me. Gillian turned into one room and then another and I hoped there was not only a clock but a map, because as big as this place was, I was bound to get lost without one. The men split off, half heading up the stairs while the rest filtered throughout the main floor.
I stopped at the first cabinet, studying its contents before moving on to the next. Some cabinets had one picture, with a few books and random objects, others with almost a photo album on display, surrounded by faded books and wooden dolls beginning to turn to ashes. I could feel Williams behind me, patiently waiting as I worked out what this series meant. It meant something, I just couldn’t figure out what it was.
I paused in front of an empty one. The dust tracks inside indicated things had been removed recently. One more puzzle in a long line of them. The next cabinet wasn’t empty and I let out a little gasp when I saw its contents.
There were only a few pictures but it seemed fitting since she had barely been older than myself when she died in the convent hospital. I’d never seen a picture of my mother; the sisters hadn’t bothered to keep one and didn’t think to save her personal belongings. I knew it was her, as surely as I’d recognize my own face. It was mostly the eyes, exactly the same shade of pale gray as mine, that gave it away but there was something else.
That something was the way I knew the woman in the photos was my mother. I just knew. The photos were mostly of her alone, or with a group of people who could only be members of the Covenant, but toward the bottom and back were a few more. It was like someone had tried to hide them from sight but hadn’t been able to bring themselves to do it completely. Reaching up, I opened the doors, noticing the slight tremor of my fingers.
Careful to not disturb the arrangement so much I wouldn’t be able to replicate it, I pulled a framed photo forward, the dust thicker on the glass than on any other surface in the house. My lips were dry and my voice low when I spoke.
“My parents?”
Williams turned the photo fully toward the light, a sigh slipping from him. “Yes. If memory serves, they had just been hand fasted. She was with child—you—within six months.” Williams dropped his hand, sliding it into his pocket. “Within another three, your father was murdered, and five months after, she was in her grave as well.”
“They look so young. They look… they look in love,” I finished, somewhat lamely. But they did. They all but glowed with it, and even now, twenty-six years later, I could feel it while holding their photograph.
“They were. The members of the Covenant yearned to be around them the way flowers yearn for the spring sun after the winter.” Williams took the photo from my hand and gently placed it back in the cabinet, the doors shut with a small snick. “One cannot speak of them without speaking first of their love. Few find something as amazing as they had, though we all search for it.”
I turned my head to look at him curiously, our faces so close I almost made myself cross-eyed looking at him. “Do you mean to tell me that as long as you’ve been around, you haven’t found anything even close to what my parents had?”
Williams chuckled and I swallowed at the little spark of pure lust it sent through my body. Just a little one, but sometimes the littlest ones do the most damage. “Jude Magdalyn, my living years were spent amongst the sort of women that gave their favors not for love, but for love of money, and little changed once I was turned until I came into contact with the Covenant. If I were to find such a love, I doubt I would even recognize it as what it was.”
Somehow my hand had found its way to his waist, where it settled, whether for my support or his I don’t know. “So you’re just going to give up, even though you know there’s a possibility it’s out there?”
Williams’ hand dropped from the cabinet door to cup my jaw, and I couldn’t control the shiver it elicited. Sparks, shivers - if I’d heard bells and whistles, I’m not sure what I would have done. His eyes bored into mine. “I wouldn’t have taken you as an incurable romantic, Jude Magdalyn. You would seem to be full of surprises, quite a few of them pleasant.”
I let out a shaky breath, trying to laugh it off. “Must be the air.”
Williams stepped closer, one little half step that brought us up against each other. “Weak excuse, Jude Magdalyn. Try again.”
His hands playing along my jaw and along the nape of my neck made it difficult to breathe, let alone form rational thought. “The house.”
His teeth grazed the lobe of my ear, and my hand clenched in his shirt while my pulse slowed down to a standstill. Hart could have launched the end of the world and I don’t think either one of us would have been able to move to stop him. “Once again, I doubt your veracity, Jude Magdalyn.”
A sound, half groan, half murmur blew across his cheek when I turned my lips to his. “Maybe I just want to jump your bones, and this is my plan to do it.”
His hand fisted suddenly in my hair, and the gasp I let out wasn’t due to pain. My heartbeat was loud in my ears. If Williams had a pulse of his own, I wouldn’t have been able to hear it over mine. I felt his answer on my lips more than heard it.
“Clever girl.”
For some reason, my first thought when they pressed against mine was, his lips should have been cold. They weren’t, a hint of heat grew and spread from his lips to mine, and through the rest of my body until I was a pool of gentle warmth, my muscles loose and yet tight at the same time. My hand lay loosely against his hip, there more to keep contact with him than to hold myself up. Williams was doing that all on his own, one hand twined in my hair while the other pressed against the small of my back, pushing me into him.
I’d seen the past, and I’d seen the future, but I hadn’t seen time stop until then. The steady tick-tock of the unseen clock slowed until it stopped altogether. When I opened my eyes, I could see tiny particles hanging suspended, waiting patiently to continue on their journeys. The air was so thick, so full of the moment, breathing it was like inhaling maple syrup.
Keeping my eyes open was too hard, and I closed them again as Williams’s mouth moved over mine. I hadn’t been wrong when I’d assumed he’d had a few lifetimes of experience and knew how to use each one of them. Gradually, all the tightness went out of my muscles and even though Williams held me in a firm grasp, I felt my knees give way. I let out a little whimper of disappointment when the move pulled my lips from his. His mouth swallowed it up as he shifted us smoothly, as if he’d anticipated such a thing.
I think we could have stayed forever in that moment, in the kiss, as impossible as it seemed, if a few things hadn’t happened. The first was the sound of someone cursing furiously, in what sounded like French. With it, everything—sound, time, gravity— poured back in on us. I felt my pulse accelerate until I thought my heart would burst from the sudden pressure. I pulled back, gasping for air as my lungs fought furiously to inhale and the air around me fought for me to exhale.
Williams helped me slide to the floor, pushing my head between my legs, kneading the back of my neck. I don’t know what the conversation above me entailed as it was conducted in French at a furious pace, with people joining in at random moments, but I had the feeling at least one person was not happy with the pair of us kissing. Probably more, as the yelling increased.
How long the argument would have gone on I have no idea, except Gillian and Williams had the brilliant idea of asking me my opinion of me kissing him. They asked simultaneously, in French. When I raised my head and gave them a confused look, they both exhaled a deep breath.
“Gillian is concerned you were… forced into kissing me,” Williams explained, throwing her a look full of disgust. Gillian crossed her arms and returned his look with one of her own.
“Right. Because in the brief time you’ve known me, you’ve been able to use force at every juncture, and I’ve just followed as meekly as a lamb.” I sent Gillian a withering look of my own before shaking my head. “Any more concerns, Mother Superior, or does that cover it?”
The second thing that would have brought an end to the perfect moment, if it hadn’t been interrupted by angry chaperones, was the peal of the doorbell. You would have sworn there were a thousand church bells in one little button. And the longer you pushed the button, the louder and angrier the bells got.
One of the guard stepped around the pile Williams and I were making on the floor. I noticed the slight bulge at his back, and when I would have asked what it was, Williams laid a finger over my lips. I glared at him, but kept quiet. The hall had gone silent, except for the rejuvenated clock. There was a click to my right, and I turned my head to see one of my guard crouched on the stairs with an absolutely enormous gun in his hand.
