The Prophet (17 page)

“He’s been used in fights?” Devlin asked, tentatively scratching behind Angus’s ear nubs.

“Yes. He’s had a hard time.”

“Poor guy. Where did you get him?”

“In Asher Falls. He’d been left in the woods to starve. He came out of the trees one day and just stayed.”

“Asher Falls,” Devlin said. “That’s an interesting little place, isn’t it?”

“You’ve been there?” I asked in surprise.

“No, but it sounded familiar when you mentioned it last night. That made me curious, so I looked it up after you left. The town has a history, but that’s not how I knew the name. It’s been in the news recently because of all those mud slides.”

“Why would you go to the trouble of looking it up? Why didn’t you just ask me about it?”

“Because we had other things to talk about. Or so I thought.” Slowly he rose, his gaze meeting mine in the fading light. “Something happened to you in that town, didn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I read the news reports. People died in those slides, and I think you must have somehow been affected by the tragedy. Or by something.”

I tucked a loose strand of hair behind one ear. The breeze had risen, and I could feel a chill through my shirt, but I knew the wind wasn’t the reason for the shivers up my spine. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over. I’m home now.”

“But I don’t think it is over,” he said, and I heard something in his voice, a proprietary edge that quickened my breath. “Whatever happened there changed you. I can tell just by looking at you.”

I tried to make light of it. “I told you I got caught in a briar patch.”

“I’m not talking about those scars on your face. They’re almost healed, but something inside you hasn’t. You’re different. Tell me why, Amelia.”

God help me, I melted at the sound of my name. I didn’t want to. I wanted to be strong and pragmatic and wise enough to know that his dead family would always be there between us. But when he said my name like that. When he looked at me as though I were the only woman in the world, how could I not just…dissolve?

Thankfully, his ghosts hadn’t manifested yet. Angus could sense them, though. He left Devlin to stare through the pike fence, fur bristling in agitation. I sensed them, too. They were there just beyond the gate, shimmering softly as they waited for twilight.

“Maybe we should go inside,” I said and rubbed a hand up and down my arm. “It’s getting chilly out here.”

“I can’t stay long.”

Because he had other plans?

I wouldn’t think about that. Baseless speculation would drive me crazy. I wouldn’t think about his arms around Isabel Perilloux or that murmured invitation I had heard her issue on the phone.
Come over whenever you want. I’ll be waiting… .

Gathering up my book and sweater, I headed for the gate. I couldn’t completely drown out those taunting voices in my head or the unwelcome images they painted, but at least I would be safe inside from Mariama’s wrath, though no sanctuary could ever protect me from Devlin.

We went in through the side door and I took him back to my office where I could keep an eye on Angus and watch out for the ghosts. Devlin walked restlessly around the room, hands in pockets, studying the books in my shelves and the photographs on my walls. He seemed aimless and edgy, like a panther stalking his cage.

I said a little too breathlessly, “Do you want something to drink? Some tea or coffee? A glass of wine, maybe?”

“I’m fine. I’m just on my way to dinner. I saw your car out front so I took a chance that you’d be home.”

I nodded, fighting the urge to fling myself at him. He was so close, and I’d been so lonely without him. But already Mariama lurked in the shadows. Watching us. Taunting me.

“I’ve always been intrigued by these images.” He nodded toward the double-exposed photographs I’d taken of old graveyards superimposed over cityscapes. “The first time I saw them, I knew they were an insight into your world. I found them lonely and unsettling, but I was drawn to them just the same.”

My heart still thudded. “And I told you they were just pictures.”

“Revealing pictures.” He pinned me with those brooding eyes. “That bothers you, doesn’t it? You don’t like to let anyone in.”

“I could say the same about you.”

“My world is sometimes a pretty bleak place,” he murmured, moving over to the bookcases and then to the windows.

I could see his reflection in the glass, and I watched him there, the hollow in my chest growing deeper by the minute. He had no idea what he did to me. No clue that here in my sanctuary, away from his ghosts, he had unwittingly replenished his siphoned energy with mine. Already my knees had gone weak.

“This room brings back a lot of memories,” he said.

For me, too. It was here that we had pondered an investigation together, here that we had shared our first kiss. Here that I had fallen in love with him. No, that wasn’t quite right. I’d fallen for Devlin the moment he’d stepped out of the mist on the Battery. It was only in my office where we’d worked on a case together that I’d finally been able to admit it.

He turned. “I’ve missed you,” he said softly.

I closed my eyes on a tremulous breath. “I’ve missed you, too.”

“Then why did you run away from me last night?”

“I was frightened.”

“Of what?” When I said nothing, I saw a fist clench at his side. “You have no idea how I’ve racked my brain, trying to figure you out. When you came to my house that night last spring…I would have sworn you wanted me as much as I wanted you. Or did I read you wrong?”

“You weren’t wrong.”

“Then what happened?”

“Your ghosts happened.”

He stared at me for the longest time, something flickering behind his eyes. Doubt? Fear? Disbelief? “My ghosts?”

“Your memories. Your guilt. They’re still there, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” he said, and I thought I heard him sigh. “They’re still here.”

It was a long time before either of us spoke after that. He gazed out into the gathering darkness as I stood there gazing at his reflection. I’d wondered over the months since I’d last seen him if my memory had dramatized his features—those fathomless eyes, the perfect nose, the tiny imperfection of a scar beneath his lower lip. I still dreamed about that face, about those eyes, about that sensuous mouth and what it could do to me.

There was a time when I’d thought I could move on without him, but that moment was long gone. All he had to do was look at me, say my name in that devastating drawl, and I knew it would never be over. I would always be trapped in this limbo. Suspended in the in-between space of what was safe and what I desperately wanted.

He finally turned from the windows. “This conversation isn’t going at all the way I planned it,” he said with a trace of irony.

I lifted a brow. “How did you plan it?”

“I never meant to come over here and badger you for answers or dredge up old grievances. The time for airing all that is long past. I actually came here to tell you that you were right to run away last night. Somehow I got sidetracked.” His gaze searched my face, lingered on my lips, and I felt a flutter of awareness deep down in my stomach.

“When did you come to that conclusion?” I asked coolly, even though I knew it was ridiculous to feel hurt and rejected when, in fact, I was the one who had bolted like a frightened colt. With good reason, of course, but he couldn’t know that.

“Something’s come up. I’m involved in a matter that could get a little dicey. I don’t want it touching you.”

So…his rejection wasn’t personal. He wasn’t being driven away by his ghosts or even by another woman. I felt a rush of unreasonable relief until dread pricked my bubble. That overheard conversation on his porch came rushing back, and suddenly I knew why he was so wired. I recognized the source of all that nervous energy. He was going after Darius Goodwine.

I walked over to the window, resisting the temptation to place my hand on his arm. To draw comfort from his warmth even as he sustained himself with mine. “This involvement…has to do with a police investigation?”

“Unofficially.”

“What does that mean?”

He gave a slight shrug. “I’m looking into something that isn’t exactly by the book. But that’s all I can say. The less you know the safer you’ll be.”

“What does any of this have to do with me?” I asked in confusion.

“It doesn’t, except that someone might try to use you to stop me.”

“How?” I asked in alarm, my mind on Darius Goodwine.

“It doesn’t matter because I won’t let it happen.”

I stared at him for the longest moment, trying to intuit his emotions from his stoic demeanor. “Whatever it is, it sounds dangerous.”

“Not if you do as I ask.”

“I wasn’t talking about me.”

His features softened, and I saw the hint of a smile that made my knees go even weaker. “You don’t need to worry about me. I know what I’m doing.”

Of course, he did. I’d never known anyone so competent, so utterly focused when he needed to be. But that glimmer of excitement in his eyes troubled me. That pent-up tension worried me even more. He wasn’t at all frightened. He relished the prospect of going after Darius, a man Ethan said had devotees all over the city. A man Fremont said had made the transition from shaman to sorcerer.

“How can I not worry?” I asked sharply. “You’re telling me just enough to
make
me worry.”

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intent. I just wanted you to understand why we have to keep our distance.”

“I’m getting that message loud and clear.”

My wounded tone seemed to take him aback. “When I can tell you, I will.”

“That really isn’t much comfort.”

He still looked bemused and not a little intrigued by my reaction. “It’s the best I can do for now. But there’s something else I need from you. It’s very important.”

“What is it?”

He put his hands on my shoulders and gazed directly into my eyes. “If I disappear, don’t come looking for me.”

“What?” Panic skittered over me as my anger fled. “What do you mean, if you disappear?”

His grip tightened ever so slightly. “If you don’t see or hear from me, just let it go. Don’t call my phone, don’t go by my house, don’t ask any questions. And for God’s sakes, don’t notify the police.”

I had to fight to keep a terrified tremor from my voice. “If you disappear…how can I just let it go? That’s asking too much.”

“You have to.” His dark stare impaled me, besieged me. “Promise me.”

“Now you’re really scaring me.”

He touched his hand to my face. “Don’t be frightened.” His soft drawl invoked forbidden images, and I shivered as his hands slipped into my hair. He brought his mouth down on mine, lightly at first, and then with growing heat until I clutched his arms for support. My eyes closed, my lips parted and I didn’t hold back, nor did he. I had been starving for that kiss, and in spite of Isabel Perilloux, in spite of his ghosts, it seemed as though he had, too.

He lifted his head and whispered my name on a ragged sigh as he pulled me to his chest. I melted into him, and he held me for the longest time in silence. I pressed my cheek to the thud of his heart and savored the scent of him, the feel of him, while I still could.

Then all too soon, his arms fell away, and it was time for him to go. The whole scene had a sense of finality that I refused to accept. Whatever happened, I had to believe that Devlin and I were a long way from over.

I stood on the veranda and watched him go. He didn’t look back. Not even once. He strode down the walkway, and by the time he reached the garden gate, his ghosts were with him. Mariama floated at his side, her hand skimming his arm, touching his shoulder, dashing that glimmer of nascent hope that had sprouted from his kiss.

Shani trailed behind them, her blue dress blowing delicately in a nonexistent breeze. She glanced over her shoulder and pressed a finger to her lips before she quietly vanished.

A moment later, I felt a numbing cold, a paralyzing fear, and glanced down to find her at
my
side. She clung to my hand as we stood there watching Devlin walk away into the twilight.

* * *

I waited until the little ghost faded before going back inside. Shani was coming to me more and more frequently, her manifestations increasingly bold. There was little doubt now that she haunted me and she would not be leaving until I found a way to help her move on. I was equally certain that Mariama would do everything in her power to make certain that didn’t happen. Shani was her tie to Devlin.

The house was very quiet and my nerves were already unsettled. I went to the door to call for Angus. He came at once, as eager for my company as I was for his. I saw nothing out of the ordinary in the dusk, but I had a strange sense that spirits were close. Whether Shani had led them to me or my own transformation had attracted them, I didn’t know. But they were out there, searching for me even as I scoured the shadows for them.

I stood there on the threshold as nightfall deepened and the vanilla scent of the phlox awakened. A three-quarter moon peeked over the treetops and the lamb’s ear and sage took on a silvery glow. The garden became a fairyland, delicate and ethereal, and the song of the nightingale that drifted down through the leaves might have seemed perfectly suited to such a dream world. But there were no nightingales in Charleston.
It was a mockingbird you heard.

I saw him then, just beyond the swing, in the deepest shadows of the yard. Not a ghost, but a flesh and blood man, uncommonly tall and mesmeric even in the dark. He lifted a hand and the wind rose, I could have sworn it. Born on that unnatural breeze, the scent of sulfur drifted across the garden, mingling with the night-blooming datura. The perfume enveloped me like a cocoon. Trapped in his spell, I couldn’t move or breathe. The sensation should have been terrifying, but I felt no fear. Just a strange fascination.

Then it was over. The scent evaporated and the man disappeared. I told myself he must have been a ghost or a conjure of my imagination. No human could simply dissolve into the shadows. Not even a
tagati.