The Awakening: A Sisterhood of Spirits Novel (11 page)

Startled, Sunny opened her eyes and felt her stomach sink a little. Where had that come from? She was so disappointed that Jordan hadn’t asked to see her again. She knew she hadn’t imagined the attraction between them. Hers had been real enough, but maybe she’d projected her own feelings on Jordan.
Isn’t that a mortifying thought?
Maybe Jordan had just been trying to help, as any good officer would.

No, Sunny had been able to perceive Jordan’s concern when she helped her. But maybe it was just concern, and not the drenching attraction she thought it was.

Then she remembered her failed attempt to find Jordan’s energy and finding not even a trace. Why was it when it came to something that Sunny wanted for herself, she ran up against that block that kept her from seeing? It seemed almost unfair.

Her father had once told her it was because in order for Sunny to grow, she had to experience all of life, all the good, bad, and ugly. If she were able to predict her own future, she would have the ability to cherry-pick her experiences and rob herself of events that were necessary to her spiritual and mental growth. She couldn’t predict events for those that were close to her either, for the exact same reason. Oh, she could get inklings and flashes of intuition if she tried, but everyone had free will in their lives and had, in one form or another, chosen events in their lives for their own journeys.

It was a major conflict for Sunny when clients came to see her. What to tell them, what to hold back for their own good. She walked a very fine line in those situations, which was why she preferred not to do predictions. It was much easier and less stressful for her to deliver messages from loved ones who had crossed over. As a medium, she was just the middleman, so to speak, for someone else and not the source.

Sunny turned toward the phone a full two seconds before it rang. She gave herself a mental shake. It was time to get back to work.

*

Jordan eased Sunny to her back on the large bed. Her long hair fanned behind her and her smile was full of delicious promises as she unfastened the tiny buttons on the bodice of her white dress and pulled the fabric open to expose her pale breasts. Jordan’s mouth watered before she bent to flick her tongue across a pink nipple before nuzzling it with her lips.

“We have to follow up on this missing person.”

Jordan snapped back to the present, disoriented. “What?” Holy shit, she was on shift. What was she doing? Her mind never wandered like that at work.

Vince narrowed his eyes. “Have you heard anything I’ve said in the last five minutes?”

No, but she wasn’t going to admit it. “Missing person. Follow-up.”

“Okay, we’ll try this again. Mother called last night and filed a report, her daughter hadn’t come home after school.”

God, how many of those calls had she been on in the last ten years? Too many. Gina Brayden’s face came to mind. She hated these cases even as she was drawn to them with the need to help. “Runaway? Boyfriend? Drugs?”

Vince parked the cruiser in the driveway. “Her parents say none of the above, that she’s a good girl.”

They always were, thought Jordan. Even the ones that were thrown away. She got out of the car, hitched her belt, and looked at a pleasant split-level house. Flowers bloomed along the tidy walkway. The manicured lawn and clean front porch told visitors it was a welcoming house and well cared for. But Jordan knew how deceiving outside appearances could be. Sometimes the best houses held the dirtiest secrets. She’d seen it before. She motioned for Vince to take the lead when the worried mother with red and swollen eyes appeared in the doorway.

She didn’t feel good about this, not one little bit. Jordan steeled herself for the interview with the missing girl’s tearful parents.

As she drove by the 7-Eleven on her way home, Jordan searched the faces in the shadows instinctually for the missing girl, even though she knew deep down this particular girl wasn’t a runaway. There would be no easy resolution to this case. She had a hunch that this one was going to end badly.

She tried not to attach stories to the kids she did see, the ones hanging out on the street at a time normal parents would want them tucked safely in bed. To get personally involved only caused pain, and usually a great deal of it. Jordan lost more runaways than she saved. How many times had she pulled kids off the street and returned them to their parents, only to see them back on the streets two days later? For some of these teens, the streets were safer than their homes. It certainly had been for Jordan when she was growing up.

Gina hadn’t been the first missing person she’d been assigned to, but Jordan had gotten so emotionally involved with the runaway that when she appeared to have dropped from the face of the earth, Jordan felt something inside her break and shatter. A piece of her soul was gone, missing the same way the child herself was.

Jordan entered the hall and heard voices in the stairwell. It was after eleven, and most people were usually in bed at that time. She recognized Steve’s voice first, then Agnes’s, but wasn’t close enough yet to make out the third or what they were saying. She rounded the landing and resigned herself to making small talk.

Steve’s door shut, and Jordan was relieved to see no one between herself and her apartment. She was tired and hungry, and wanted nothing more than to eat her takeout teriyaki and kick her feet up in private.

The laundry basket with her neatly folded clothes sat in front of her door, reminding her of what happened earlier in the basement. She juggled her food with her keys and kicked the basket into the apartment. She took a quick shower before heating her dinner in the microwave and settling on the couch. She had just flipped the television on and had the first bite to her mouth when she heard the knock on her door.

“Are you flipping kidding me?” Jordan stalked to the door and swung it open. “Seriously? Do you know what time it is?” The words were barely out of her mouth before she was stunned by the sight of Sunny standing in front of her, holding on to the door frame, her eyes glassy. A microsecond later, her eyes rolled back and she swooned. Jordan barely managed to grab her arm before she fell to her knees. Steve rushed out of his apartment.

“What
is
it with you, Jordan?” Steve asked before sweeping Sunny up in his arms and pushing past her into the living room. “Do you kiss them and make them cry too?”

“He’s right, dear.” Agnes entered and patted her arm. “You made me faint as well.”

Jordan followed, then stood next to the couch. Once again, she felt like she’d been dropped into the middle of a play already in progress and she had no idea what her lines were.

“Here she comes. Where’s your whiskey?” Agnes asked when Sunny opened her eyes and looked around warily.

Sunny laughed weakly. “Water is fine.”

Jordan fled into the kitchen to get some for her. She had been imagining Sunny flat on her back, but this scenario certainly wasn’t how she’d got there. When she returned, Sunny was sitting up with Steve and Agnes on either side of her.

“Are you okay?” Jordan handed her the glass and, feeling stupid just standing there, sat on the coffee table. “What happened?”

“You opened the door.”

“I usually do that when someone knocks.”

“Okay, I was surprised to see you standing there. I didn’t know you lived here.”

“The sight of me made you faint?” Jordan asked, incredulous. She tried to find her bearings, and answering questions with another question was second nature to her and usually gave her more time to think.

“I did not faint.”

Agnes looked back and forth between them. “You two know each other?”

“We’ve met,” Sunny said politely before meeting Jordan’s eyes. “Could you both please excuse us?”

“But…” Steve looked puzzled. “What about…”

“Just for a few minutes. If you could wait over at your grandmother’s, I’ll be along. When Shade and Tiffany get here, just tell them to wait until I get back to start setting up.” She smiled and flashed her dimples. “Thank you so much. I appreciate it.”

Steve beamed back at her and then stumbled over his big feet on his way to the door, nearly tripping Agnes, who was close behind him. Jordan snickered, then shut the door in his face before he could ask her any questions.

Now what? Jordan thought. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. In spite of her fierce attraction, she had already made the decision not to seek Sunny out after convincing herself that one, she came from a different planet than she did, and two, she was so far out of her league that Sunny was in another stratosphere from Jordan. She looked around the small apartment and couldn’t help but compare it to Sunny’s home, filled with rich things and cats. Don’t forget the cats, she told herself; you hate cats.

Every single argument flew out the window when Sunny looked at her. Her hair was mussed and her full lips were parted slightly, begging for a kiss. Jordan moved across the carpet toward her. She felt heavy and sluggish, but the need to get to her was almost overwhelming.

She dropped to her knees in front of Sunny and leaned in. She heard Sunny’s sharp intake of breath and stopped when their lips were separated by only a few inches.

“Jordan. Stop. I have to tell you something.”

“Mmm.”
Stop?
Hell no. She was going to take her right here on the couch. Pin her and take what she wanted. She was going to wrap her hands around her delicate throat and squeeze until she begged for her life. And she was going to like it.

“Jordan!”

“What?” Jordan looked down at her hands gripping Sunny’s shoulders. Oh my God, what had she just been thinking? Sunny’s eyes were wide and she looked frightened. Jordan was mortified and jumped to her feet.

A chair scraped along the linoleum in the dining room and they both jumped.

What was wrong with her? Jordan’s ears were ringing and her hands shook. Sunny approached slowly, almost cautiously. Rage bubbled in Jordan’s veins and she snapped. “I suppose you’re going to tell me that was a ghost.”

“Excuse me?” Sunny looked surprised. “What just happened here?”

“Are the Jacksons in on this too?” Jordan began to pace back and forth. “Who put you up to this?” She was livid. The last thing she needed was someone else messing with her head.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t give me that innocent look.” She pointed at Sunny. “I want an explanation for all of this right now.”

“Agnes called me to come over and investigate the activity here and help her to get rid of it.”

Jordan acted as if she hadn’t heard her. “What I can’t figure out is how you people got into my apartment to move shit around while I was in it.”

“You people?”

“How much did that bitch Lynn pay you—all of you—to drive me completely over the edge? And why?”

“Again, Jordan. I don’t know—”

“I’m not stupid!”

“I never thought—”

“How much did you take the old lady for? You and your con artist witch buddies.”

“That’s enough!” Sunny stood and advanced toward her. “I will not stand here and let you insult my friends and their integrity. I will not tolerate it, do you hear me?”

Jordan stopped pacing. As suddenly as it appeared, the anger ebbed and left her feeling foggy and unsure. What had they been arguing about? The last thing she clearly remembered was thinking how pretty she looked. “But—”

“But nothing. I don’t owe you any explanations. You’ve just stood there throwing around accusations about something I have nothing to do with.”

Jordan desperately tried to remember what she’d said to piss her off.

“And another thing, Officer Lawson.” She spat the title out sarcastically. “Don’t flatter yourself. I didn’t faint at the sight of you.” Sunny turned toward the door. “I fainted because the demon that lives here was standing behind you.” She smiled wickedly and slammed the door.

What did she just say?
Jordan’s pulse skipped and she turned to look over her shoulder.
Did she just say demon?
She flashed back to the age of twelve and her first foster parents who forced her to go to church. She could still see the priest, spittle flying from his mouth as he prayed over her for the sins of her mother. She had been terrified of him and the church’s vision of hellfire and brimstone reserved just for her kind—children of junkies, who were evil just by association. As if she ever had a choice in the matter, as if she didn’t smell the alcohol on his hypocritical breath. Jordan was never good enough for them, and they always found some fault with her—some reason to lock her in her room. They would roll their eyes and beg God for her deliverance from Satan and his minions. She’d been there less than a year when she ran away for the first time. When the state caught up with her, she was sent to a different foster home.

A worse one, where the so-called demon was an-all-too human and particularly sadistic foster brother. Jordan broke herself free of the memory. She was an adult now, and she didn’t believe in their evil fairy tales any longer.

A cupboard flew open and slammed shut in the kitchen as if to mock her.

*

Sunny’s adrenaline had her practically flying back to Agnes’s apartment. “Just me and my broom,” she said out loud to the night. “That’s all I need.”

She had absolutely no idea what Jordan was talking about, but she had been willing to be patient and try to find out. But to let her tirade include Tiffany and Shade was never going to happen. Not while there was breath left in her body.

She didn’t get mad very often, but Jordan had infuriated her and made her say something to intentionally scare her. Who did she think she was anyway? Sunny could practically feel the sparks standing her hair on end. She refused to acknowledge the small guilty teeth that nibbled at her conscience.

Tiffany took one look at her and her eyes widened. “What—”

“Not now. Let’s get this party started.” Sunny bumped past her and ran straight into Shade, who stopped her.

“Whoa.”

Sunny ground her teeth. “I just want to do this and go home. Don’t ask me, don’t peek into my head, just step away, please.” She felt the tears gather behind her eyes and looked down so they wouldn’t be seen.