Three Days of Dominance (19 page)

Sitting cross-legged opposite Heketoro in the mock jasmine arbor with a small fire between them was strange, even if strange had become second nature these last few days. Though he’d said he couldn’t stay much longer, Heketoro no longer showed any real inclination to leave. He’d as much as said, being inside her house disturbed him in some way. Perhaps that was partly it.

She looked at him from under her eyebrows. This was a side to him she’d not seen. He’d carefully combed back his own hair and fastened it with a tie of plaited grass, then done the same with her hair. The washing of their hands had been equally as ritualistic, and she was positive her fingernails had never been this perfectly clean.

He was dressed in black, as always, while she had on the pale pink dress. Not really appropriate for a funeral, but then this wasn’t one, it was a celebration of life, and pink was ideal for that, being the color of newborn skin, or the very palest of flowers.

“Are you ready?” he asked quietly. The little fire of twigs and small gum tree branches crackled and smoked, giving off the captivating scent of eucalyptus oil.

She nodded, and her head felt wobbly, as if it were barely fastened on.

He’d gotten her to light the fire, watching entranced as she assembled the necessary fuel and struck a match. She always volunteered to light the barbecue or fire whenever she attended a party that needed them going. Now she knew why—she was a fire fae. Maybe she should’ve joined the fire department instead of the police? If only she’d known. The thought was so absurd, for a second, she felt on the brink of hysterical giggling.

“You can say some words out loud now, or simply think them. It will mean the same.”

She nodded, bowed her head, then chose to simply think them.

Nick, wherever you are, know that in my way, I loved you. You were one of the best. You overcame a bad start in life and were going ahead full steam toward something good. I’m sorry I won’t get to see where you could carry yourself, because I know it would have been somewhere wonderful. Good-bye, my friend.

At that she stopped thinking, overcome by grief running through all the good and bad memories of both Nick and Jacob.

“Would you like to present the sacrifice?” Heketoro’s hand was on her elbow. He’d moved to sit next to her knee to knee at some time in her reverie, and she’d not noticed.

“Yes. Oh, wait.”

Shakily, she took up what she’d chosen. Jacob had sent this to her on her last birthday—a pen and paper set, the paper embossed with butterflies and flowers. She’d not used it though, for he’d gone missing soon after it arrived.

She tested the pen on the corner of the paper, then carefully wrote a verse from Jacob’s favorite poem by Christina Rossetti. Like most men, even a Special Forces soldier, he had his softer side, just as she was coming to understand Heketoro could be considerate and gentle.

He covered her hand with his, the larger size of his fingers and palm dwarfing hers. “Danii, might I use one piece of this paper? It’s important and to do with your safety. Do you mind?”

“Uh…no, guess not.” She watched as he slipped one sheet free and wrote something in large letters, then folded the sheet in half. She couldn’t quite read the ornate lettering.

“Please, continue.”

She swallowed past the thickness at the back of her throat, then read her verse out loud. Though Jacob’s verse, it was for Nick as much as for him.

When I am dead, my dearest,

Sing no sad songs for me;

Plant thou no roses at my head,

Nor shady cypress tree:

Be the green grass above me

With showers and dewdrops wet;

And if thou wilt, remember,

And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows,

I shall not feel the rain;

I shall not hear the nightingale

Sing on, as if in pain:

And dreaming through the twilight

That doth not rise nor set,

Haply I may remember,

And haply may forget.

“That’s beautiful, Danii.”

Slowly she lowered the paper and pen onto the little fire. Though the flames licked at her fingertips for a second before she let go of the paper and the gold pen, she barely felt the bite. Blue, red and gold specks colored the fire as the paper curled up and turned into smoke. The pen, in the midst of the fire, looked as if it was indestructible. Slowly, the gold exterior changed, turning black and bubbly. A thin, musical piping sounded, and she thought it must be the ink boiling away.

“Good-bye,” she whispered.

She slid her hands over her face, then felt Heketoro’s arm pull her into him. He snapped the tie holding her hair back and stroked her, his fingers working their way past tangles and knots and arranging her hair so it rested neatly across her shoulder. They sat, silent, yet together for the longest time, while the fire burned low.

He leaned over, peering at her face while simultaneously tilting her chin his way. “Do you know how very red your eyes are? Is this about more than a simple friend? A boyfriend, perhaps.”

“No.” She half choked, half laughed. “I’m… This was for my brother too. He’s been missing overseas for months. The army won’t say anything more, but I’m sure he’s dead.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’m sure.”

“Jacob? You mentioned him before. You should not give up. Keep your hopes alive a little longer.”

“Do you…do you know something? Like with your fae powers, or something?”

“No.” He trailed his thumb along the line of her jaw. “I just think life is too precious to give up on it easily.”

She heaved out a long sigh. “I’ll try then, but I don’t hold out much hope of him coming home.”

Eventually she sneaked her arm out and covered his where he held her at the waist.

“Thank you.”

“Did this all help? The sacrifice? When my younger brother died, I didn’t feel as though I’d said good-bye until I did this.”

She searched inside herself and found herself at peace. Why, she couldn’t say. The ritual had somehow shaped the way she looked at Nick’s death. He was gone from her life, and now she could see there was nothing more for her to do than to remember him in the best way she could. It did her no good to rail at the injustice. And even for Jacob, she now felt that wherever he was, he would find peace. This had freed her, cut the links that existed between her life and theirs.

“It helped a lot.” She twisted her neck so she could smile at him, then leaned in and kissed him chastely. This was not the time for lust. She was glad to see he recognized that too and merely smiled back at her.

The sun had drifted a long way toward the western sky by the time Heketoro unwrapped himself from around her and stood.

She looked up at him. The inner serenity she still felt let her say something she would have otherwise not revealed. “I meant to show you how strong I can be, and it seems I’ve done the opposite here.” She frowned, then grimaced ruefully. “I guess I’ve ruined my chances, and for that I’m sorry, but I’m still glad we did this. I’m still grateful you shared this with me.”

His own forehead furrowed in the middle. “Ruined your chances? I don’t understand.”

“My chance of ever coming with you to your world.” She saw him stiffen. “I know you said I couldn’t come but”—she shrugged—“I still hoped.”

“You hoped?” he said tersely. “Danii, if there was a way for this to be safe for you—” He bit off the last words as if afraid of what anger would make him say, then simply said, “Will I see you tonight?”

She nodded, sad and confused. Was that a good sign? Anger there, yes, but he also seemed unhappy. Maybe, he truly did want her to go? There was danger here too. She couldn’t tell this time, if his words were just to placate her, or if he spoke the truth.

As if she’d been given a message from above, she realized why none of this was logical, why she wanted to be with him, despite all the uncertainty and only knowing him for these few days…despite her being the Queen of Logic on every other day of her life, bar the last couple. She loved him, and love wasn’t logical. Her eyes burned with unshed tears.
I do pick them, don’t I? Can’t get much more unobtainable than him?

“You will see me there tonight.” She made herself look at him. Pathetic, but she wanted him to know. “I’d do almost anything for you, even though you’re pushing me away.”

He flinched as if she’d struck him, balled his hands into fists. A gust of wind tugged at his hair, whipping it sideways and flipping leaves into the air. For a moment he watched the leaves intently, as if half expecting something else to happen. She met his eyes, knowing he was thinking of his half sister.

“Danii, you have no idea, none, as to the various ways the fae can hurt you. No concept at all. You’re as naive as a newborn, and that is why I fear to take you to my world. Do you think I decided this lightly?” He let out a sound of disgust and shook his head. “Remember, avoid Aroha. She can take other forms if she wishes it so. You’ve seen one of them already, spoken to her, the woman who walks about my lake who you think is researching the wild life.”

Ohmigod
. “Bug Lady?”

“Yes. Now do you see why you need to be careful?” He gestured toward her. “Pin those notes to your front and back doors. Read them!” Then he turned and walked away.

The sheet of paper, he meant that, and she picked it up with hands that shook so much she couldn’t read what was written.
Holy jumping… Bug lady was Aroha?

She watched him go, feeling cold and empty, then rose and wandered a little aimlessly into the house. Killer trotted alongside. The note was succinct and to the point, with the sentence repeated. She tore it in half so she had one for each door. Maybe she should have thought of this, but it just seemed to be taking things a step too far.

DO NOT ALLOW ANY STRANGE WOMEN TO ENTER YOUR HOUSE.

She sticky taped them inside her doors at front and back, though on sticking the second of them to the back door, she frowned and found it difficult to figure out why she had to.
Strange women?

She ended up in the kitchen. It struck her as a foreign place, with the colors of the walls all wrong. Had she somehow entered the wrong house? She’d been out gardening, hadn’t she? After staring out the back window for several minutes, a blackened spot on the lawn beneath the unruly mock jasmine drew her attention. What was that from?

Her clit throbbed. She put her hand to her mound and let it rest there a second or two. She ached as if she’d just scored with half a football team.

How could she imagine sex? Was she going nuts? She clicked her fingernail on her teeth. Heketoro had been here.
Yes. Hold on to that thought, woman.

Maybe she should take a day off this week and see a shrink? She prowled the kitchen before stopping before the fridge and opening it. Nearly dinnertime, and she was ravenous. She scowled at the sushi and tabbouleh. Another puzzle. The date on the tabbouleh indicated she’d bought it recently, but when? She pulled both containers out and ate standing at the counter in a daze, barely noticing the flavors, while Killer gulped down dog food.

The island—she knew she had to be there tonight. Why, she wasn’t sure. She had a feeling her memories were messed up. Had Heketoro done that? He had something to do with it. She needed to get to the bottom of all this, and the best way seemed the direct one. Go there, to this island, and check out this hunch of hers.

The crime rate might be low, but she’d be stupid to go to the lake at night unarmed. She’d take the pistol. Not that she meant to use it on Heketoro if she saw him. It was just a precaution.

Or is it
? Every time she thought of him, little alarm bells seemed to ring. If there was no logical reason for what had happened to her, the sex, the tattoos, the way the man attracted her, what did that leave? The illogical? If it wasn’t drugs, or a porn movie, what was it? Magic? Sure it was, and as likely as Santa bringing her toys down her nonexistent chimney.

Whatever answers the island held, she was going there with her eyes wide open.

She dressed in her darkest clothes—the black leather pants she’d only worn once, a black T-shirt and a navy jacket beneath which she could hide the GLOCK and its quick-release holster. Next, she tied her hair back in a ponytail, and as a last thought, she strapped a knife in a sheath to her wrist.

When she opened the timber front door and looked out through the screen door, there sat her sister, Amy, brunette hair neatly done in a bun, attired in a tailored yellow silk suit. She was leaning back in the cane chair, with her hands behind her head and her ankles crossed.

Danii thrust open the screen door, and stood frozen, with the door propped against her. She screamed in delight.

“Amy! You never said you were here! When did you arrive? Where’s Emmanuel?”

Something nagged at her, jumping up and down inside her head, at the boundary where thoughts blossomed into distinct ideas. She stared blankly at her sister for a few seconds. Why hadn’t Amy told her she was coming?

“Is there anything wrong? Is Emmanuel okay?”

“No! Nothing’s wrong. Of course not.” Amy scrambled to her feet and pushed her yellow sunglasses up her nose. “I have something I must tell you though. Could I come in?”

What am I thinking? Here is Amy, probably jet-lagged and waiting on my doorstep for who knew how long, and I’m interrogating her on the porch. Duh!

“Sorry! Come in. It’s just such a surprise! Let’s have a cup of tea, or would you rather coffee?”

Again something niggled at her, some instruction, something she felt sure she should have written down in fluorescent ink and stuck to her fridge door if she’d been organized when she’d learned of it…but what it was escaped her.

“Either.” Amy smiled.

“Tea then? Come on in.” With the screen door still half-open at her back, she paused to look back as Amy stepped across the threshold. Something inside fascinated her sister.