Vengeance Borne (9 page)

“No. I want you to leave. I want you to go away.”

Their laughter came as through dusty-dry throats. “It’s too late for that. You called to us and we are yours until you give us purpose.”

“If I do it… If I—give you purpose—then you’ll leave me?”

“Of course,” the three replied. “Once we’ve tasted the flesh of your enemies.”

He shut his eyes, the tighter the better. But he couldn’t banish the sensation of their invisible hands caressing him from head to toe, tousling his hair. An invisible hand stroked the inside of his thigh and he shuddered. He wished he were dead. The suspicion over the past weeks that he’d lost his grip on reality wore him down. If he told anyone, he’d be put away for sure. But they were as real to him as anything. The fact that he couldn’t see them didn’t matter. He could hear them just fine. And his body knew their lover’s touch. A blessing, yes, but a blessing he didn’t want for long. He was willing to do anything.
Anything
to get rid of them.

Tears squeezed out from his tightly shut lids. “Fine. Do it. Take revenge for me. Give me what I want and then leave me alone.”

Invisible lips took turns kissing his mouth. “Your enemies will taste our fury. Who is first?”

He knew who he wanted it to be. But just to be safe he’d try it out, on someone less important. He whispered the name, barely audible, but they heard him and for the first time in months, left his side.

Micah couldn’t take his eyes off her. He sat across from her in a booth at a local burger joint busy enough for him to assume it was a town favorite. To be honest, he didn’t even know the name, he’d been too wrapped up in his own thoughts when he arrived after Jax’s shift ended at seven. He was sure he looked like a dumbstruck idiot, but he just couldn’t help himself. She had a cute nose, a button nose. Her delicate features were small, but her strange pale eyes stood out like glistening emerald pools in the moonlight. He couldn’t help but laugh at his own foolishness.

“What?”

She watched him with a wary expression, like a coyote caught in a snare. He didn’t think it would take much for her to bare her teeth and attack if she felt truly threatened. And talk about direct…her question, it just hung in the air, almost an accusation and so lacking in trust. She was afraid of him. He could feel it somehow, just a trace of fear. It wasn’t just her guarded expression. Truth be told, she was pretty good at masking her face. But he could sense her building anxiety. For the first time, Micah didn’t feel like running. Rather, he was curious about her emotions. Wonders never cease.

“Where are you from?” she asked out of the blue.

“Seattle. Well, Bellevue, actually. I worked in Seattle.”

“What are you doing here?”

He quirked a brow. Yep, she was direct. Somehow this had become more of an interrogation than a simple conversation. “Honestly, just passing through. On my way to Wyoming.”

Jax leaned forward in her chair, pinned him with an apprising stare, like she was trying to reach into his thoughts. “Are you playing some kind of game, Micah? Or are you really as clueless as you seem?”

Angry now. Or frustrated? Searching through the tangle of emotions he knew weren’t his, Micah determined that she was balancing on a precipice of emotion. Fighting for neutrality, but ready to tilt over the edge at any moment. And the worst part of her direct questioning—he
was
just as clueless as he seemed. “Sorry to confirm your worst fears. But, yes. I am totally clueless.”

She snorted into her glass of iced tea. Again he felt a soft cloud of emotion billow off of her, something between pity and amusement. How nice.
Making quite the impression, aren’t you?
Micah paused, pushed a French fry around his plate. What did he expect to get out of this, anyway? That somehow, because he felt something when he touched her face, she’d magically have all the answers to the problems in his life and he’d be fixed? He’d finally fucking lost it, hadn’t he? What was the point in pulling up his firmly planted roots and leaving Bellevue just to stall out halfway to his destination? Solitude, he reminded himself, was the purpose of this little pilgrimage. Getting the hell away from emotions that weren’t his and visions that kept him from a decent night’s sleep, not to mention his own sanity. This whole damned trip was about putting distance between him and any human interaction, not forming new relationships
. Get your shit together, man
.
Who cares what she’s feeling and why.
He swirled a fry around in a pool of ketchup and popped it into his mouth, masking his own ridiculous confusion with some vigorous chewing.
She can obviously take care of herself, and besides, you’re just passing through
.

Jax set down her cup and leveled her gaze. A crease gathered between her dark brows, and Micah was struck with the urge to gently erase it with his thumb. Indecision twisted his stomach, twitches of emotion sparking off of her like electricity. She took a deep breath. Held it. Let it out in a single gust. “I’m going to tell you something, and you’re going to think I’m full of shit. But before you pass judgment, hear me out and then think about how you feel.”

This wasn’t the direction he’d seen their dinner conversation taking. One thing was certain: she had no problem being direct. But if playing a captive audience to whatever she was about to say meant squeezing out a few more minutes of time with her, it would be worth every second. “Shoot.”

A pregnant pause lingered between them. Her shoulders slumped as if in resignation and she sighed. Pulling the butterfly bandage from her cheek, she presented him with smooth brown skin, all signs of her previous injury gone. “You did this, Micah. You healed me. Almost instantaneously.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she held up a hand and he obeyed the command.

“You have a gift, Micah. You’re a Bearer and a damn powerful one. I don’t know why you’re here, or why you’re unrealized. But your ignorance could cause a lot of trouble. Trouble I don’t feel like dealing with.”

Bearer? Unrealized? Powerful? “Huh?” Micah closed his eyes and suppressed a shudder as a chill raced up his spine. His stupid Neanderthal grunt of an answer had triggered her frustration again. It prickled over his skin like biting, cold rain.
Idiot
.

“I have no idea what you mean,” he said. “But…there
is
something going on here. I—feel things—when I’m around you.” Understatement of the century. Before he’d felt the emotions of others. Twinges of anger or happiness. A shadow of what they truly felt. With Jax, it was completely different. Stronger on so many levels.

Micah tried to discern what she was thinking—or rather, feeling—as she shifted in her seat, but he sensed that she’d managed to erect some sort of barrier, blocking him out. Interesting. Her gaze roamed around the restaurant and settled on a far corner. The concerned crease returned to her brow. Turning, he followed the path of her eyes to see a guy sitting alone, wearing a crisp, navy blue uniform shirt with fire department patches. From the intense, somewhat bemused expression on his face, he seemed to be pretty interested in her. “Do you know him?”

“Wes,” she said, peeling her gaze away. “Friend of a friend, sort of. He must be getting an eyeful.”

She shifted again, turning her shoulder to the fireman and another wave of emotion rolled over Micah, nearly stealing his breath. Apparently she was too preoccupied by her “friend of a friend” to properly mask her emotions. He needed to distract her from whatever had her nerves twisted into tight, unyielding knots. “Jax is an interesting name. How’d you get it?”

“Jax isn’t my name. It’s short.”

“For what?”

“Jacquelyn.”

The tightness in his chest eased and he drew in a deep breath.
That’s better
. “Jacquelyn,” he said, accenting the
qu
sound. “I like it better than Jax.”

She smiled and a rush of pleasure bloomed out from his stomach, enveloping him in molten comfort. Better than anything any pill could fabricate. He’d sleep a thousand dreamless nights from just one moment of her pleasure.

“So,” Micah said, ready to get back on track, “are you going to tell me what a Bearer is?” She said he had a gift, nothing he hadn’t heard before from him mom. But Bearer was something entirely new. The word was as foreign to him as his own feelings that he tried so desperately to numb. “And what exactly does it mean to be unrealized? Don’t take this the wrong way, but it sounds like you’re trying to sell me something, Jacquelyn.”

The look she gave him was pure incredulity. Apparently, no one dared to call her out. She wasn’t the first person to try to force their superstitious propaganda on him. His mother was Romany for Christ’s sake. You didn’t get much more superstitious than that.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Micah, but I’m starting to think that here and now is not the place to discuss this.” He couldn’t help but wonder if her change of heart had anything to do with Friend-of-a-Friend. “I’m going to need you to come with me somewhere tomorrow night.” She paused, stabbed her straw into her drink a couple of times, her tone uncertain. “You need help. Since I don’t have time to deal with you myself, I know someone who will. Trust me. You’re going to want to meet this person.”

Micah thought about it for all of about a half second. Foolish, sure. What he should be doing is getting the hell back into the motor home and putting a few hundred miles between himself and this crazy-ass town. But when he met those wide, sparkling eyes of hers, he knew he’d walk into a burning building if she asked him to, let alone stick around for another day. Besides, he was paid up for a week, no use wasting money. “Sure.”

“Okay then.” She tossed her napkin down on the table and stood. “Meet me at Grind tomorrow at three. That’s when my shift is over. We can go from there.”

“You’re leaving?” He didn’t want her anywhere but right here with him. He didn’t even have a damn car to drive her home.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m going to go home and go to bed.” She plunked twenty dollars down on the table. “Sorry to drop a bomb and run, but I need to get out of here. Your energy’s a little suffocating.”

The bomb dropping was low on his list compared to her leaving. If he pressed her to stay, it might freak her out. He’d never felt compelled to be in any woman’s company for more than a little while, but voicing that would only scare her off. She didn’t seem like someone who’d appreciate a stalker, and he sure as hell didn’t want to come across as one, no matter how curious he was about her. Besides, he could probably use some time alone, too.

“No problem. But dinner’s on me.” He slid the twenty back to her. “I guess I’ll have to wait for tomorrow if I want more information. But, just so you know, this isn’t necessarily the strangest thing I’ve ever dealt with.” She raised a challenging brow and he shrugged, biting back the words he wanted to say.
You know the day I met you at the gas station? Well, I dreamt about you the night before. You were being attacked by a wannabe prom queen of all things, and she gave you the cut on your face. Sometimes I do that—dream about things—before they happen.

“Don’t be so sure,” Jacquelyn murmured.

“Don’t
you
be so sure.” he shot back at her.

She shook her head and the sensation of pleasure fled, chased by frustration, and mingled with confusion. The constant shift of emotion drew on his energy. He was wiped.

“How are you getting home?”

“Riding my bike. I’ll be fine. I do it all the time.” She gave a quick little wink, an expression almost more threatening than endearing. There was more to her than met the eye and Micah couldn’t wait to find out what it was.

A little alone time was what Jacquelyn needed to clear her head, and she used the time to think. The comfortable temperature of the near-autumn air relaxed her. They had another month yet of decent weather, after that, it would be too cold for early morning or late night bicycle rides. Which reminded her, she needed to get her car fixed.

Unfortunately, the night hadn’t gone as well as she’d hoped. She couldn’t help but wonder if Dean Winchester would have handled the situation any better. Probably not. The one thing most demon slayers had in common whether they were fictional TV characters or not: they all sort of suffered in the communication department. The Sentry wasn’t concerned with how articulate she could be or if she was just the right amount of tactful and feminine. She’d had one job since she was born: seek and destroy the supernatural scum of the earth. Didn’t exactly make for a sweet disposition. It’s not like she was offering up a glass of lemonade to go with a stake to the heart. Jacquelyn let out a gust of breath as she pedaled up a steep incline. She’d always wished she could be more articulate. But Micah seemed to take it in stride despite her uncontrollable word vomit and less than stellar people skills. Surely Micah heard words like “Bearer” every day.
Ugh. Way to go, dumbass.
She’d really fucked that up.