Blessed by Sapphires (A Dance with Destiny Book 2) (3 page)

Chapter 4

Jenevier

(ZHEN-ah-veer)

I’d almost forgotten you were there, Reader.

I have traveled far and wide since I left Georgia. I spent much time in the beautiful Smoky Mountains, pretending they were Thralldom. I slept amongst the trees, bathed in the cold streams, and feasted upon the many different herbs covering those hills. Yet, not once did I glimpse a feisty little Pixie or stumble upon an enchanting young man with olive skin, strange markings, and an innocent heart. There is no magic in layer eight, no enchantment. I hate this place.

I journey through town after town and city after city. Ever walking, ever restless. I now stand, once again, in the middle of the busy streets of downtown Detroit. My heart pulled me back to the only place upon this horrid layer where the ghosts of my past life yet remain.

*****

“Ma’am? Ma’am? Can you not hear me? Ma’am, you can’t stand here. Come on. You’re gonna get yourself killed. Let’s go.”

I heard the concerned voice but turned not. I couldn’t bear to see another death, another crime, another painful tear. Only when I felt the increasing tug upon my arm did I stop writing and look into the worried eyes of a man trying desperately to save a forgotten woman who wished only for death.

I stared at him for many heartbeats before I found my voice. “You can see me?”

“Of course I can see you. Now, come with me before you get the both of us killed.”

I followed his frantic voice to the crowded sidewalk lining the congested street. Blaring horns and angry shouts accompanied our journey.

I couldn’t stop staring at this strangely forceful man. Well, I couldn’t stop staring at the back of his head as he pulled me along behind him.

“How is it you can see me?”

“How is it I can…” He was shocked at my questioning. “Because you were blocking all of downtown rush hour traffic. That’s how.”

I looked around at the hundreds of unseeing eyes now focused solely on me.

I can only describe the look on his stern face as… cross. “Do you have a death wish or something?”

“Yes. Yes, I do,” I whispered. “Can you hear thoughts? Do you see what hides inside the heart? I didn’t realize ones with such talent resided within this realm.”

“You need help, Lady. You’re coming with me.”

The man held fast to my arm as he pushed past the gathering crowd, leading me to an older building.
Precinct 6
was written in white letters on the glass door. He escorted me into a tiny room with but a single table and a couple hard metal chairs.

That little table is where I now sit as I record the bizarre events unfolding before me.

“Coffee?” he asked, smiling, sort of.

“Do you have tea?”

“No. I’m afraid all I can offer you is a bitter black cup of Joe.” His amused laughter was warm and gentle.

“Gratitude and apologies, good sir. I’ll be fine.”

He took a drink from his cup and nodded his head toward me. “What’re you writing there?”

“My life.” I only glance at him before returning my attention back to this journal.

“May I see it?”

I stopped writing then. I looked deep into his tired eyes. He didn’t seem bent on ill intentions toward me, curiosity only.

“If you wish,” I said as I handed him this journal.

He sat for a long time, quietly reading my words and drinking his coffee Joe.

“And where’s this stolen book which recounts your previous life?” he finally asked.

I pulled the battered old novel from the leather bag I’d worn draped across my chest since my first week of exile.

“May I see
it
as well?” he said, reaching.

This was a much harder request to fulfill. “Do you promise to return it? It’s my only worldly possession. My only window back to the people I love.”

“I promise,” he answered. “You can’t trust anybody if you can’t trust me.”

He smiled then. His grin carried no malice, sympathy perhaps, but no malice.

He read for hours as I studied his common eighth layer features. Perhaps he could be considered handsome, I’m not certain. I cannot judge beauty on this layer. The beings I find the most charming, the most interesting, are not usually the ones admired on their television sets or upon their giant movie screens. I mean, he looks to me much like all the others rushing about within this sterile building. He has short black hair—not Alastyn’s raven black, just the normal Earth realm black. His is sprinkled about on the sides with bits of shimmering gray and he has that odd patch of hair above his mouth that so many eighth layer men share.

That’s one of the biggest differences between the people here and the ones back in Ashgard—all the body hair. I mean, it’s not a bad thing I suppose, just different. My people have hair upon their heads only. The people of layer eight boasted hair pretty much everywhere. On their face, their arms, their legs. Some even have hair on their bodies, their chest and their back. I giggled when I thought about how funny Alastyn would look with hair upon his face, Jezreel with it covering her arms, or even the glorious Vittorio with silver hair upon his magnificent chest… hysterical.

Actually, Valadrog was the only person I had met upon the whole of layer four who had hair somewhere besides his head.
And he wasn’t crowned with a single strand
, I thought.
Bald as a newborn babe, he was. Blessed with silver hanging only from the corners of his sternly set mouth.

I didn’t realize I’d laughed out loud until I looked back at the man. He was staring at me, rather worrisomely, actually.

“Apologies, I was lost in my own remembrances.” I’m pretty sure I blushed, my cheeks felt hot. “Please, continue.”

I noticed then that his eyes had once been a brilliant blue. They were now faded, tired, and framed by tiny lines matching the ones currently furrowing his brow.

Only once did someone knock on the door and bring in a flat white box and a blessed steaming cup of tea. It was foul compared to Aunt Marlise’s but it was especially kind of them to have tried. I smiled at the young woman handing me the bitter drink and she looked at me with pity in her eyes.

I didn’t like how that made me feel, not one bit.
I believe, if this is to be the common reaction, I prefer it better when I roamed about unnoticed.

“Don’t you want any pizza?” He asked his question between large bites.

I inclined my head toward him, respectfully. “I am fine.”

“Aww, come on. You gotta try this incredible pie. Bet you’ve never tasted anything like it before.”

The smell alone turned my stomach. I took a small bite of the grease covered bread he insisted on sticking in my face and prayed that would be enough to satisfy his demands. I used the foul tea to wash down the even fouler oil now coating the inside of my mouth. I presume the twisted look upon my face answered his next question.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You don’t like pizza? Everyone from around here
loves
pizza.”

I choked out a cough and tried to clear my throat. “I’m not from around here.”

“So I gather.” He stared intently at me. I returned his curious gaze. “Is there somewhere I can take you?”

“Gratitude, but I can manage just fine.”

“I can see that,” he said with a laugh. “But you’ll be hard-pressed to find a decent place to sleep around here that still uses keys.”

I spoke not.

“The precinct is no place for someone like you to spend the night, and I can’t just let you walk out of here not knowing where you’ll end up or what’ll happen to you.”

“Gratitude for your concern, but it’s not necessary.” I reached for my book but he snatched it off the table. I could only stare at him, confused. “But, you promised.” Tears were burning the backs of my eyes.

“Hey now, it’s okay. I’m not going to
keep
it. But I am curious as to how it ends. I only want to finish the story you feel is your life. I only want to find out what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.”

He smiled then winked, as if he were speaking to an injured child. I could only sniff and brush the tears away.

The man stood up, still holding my book. “I’ve got the perfect place in mind—walking distance from here. I’ll finish your book tonight and return it to your lovely hands in the morning,” he promised as he led me back through the building filled with busy people and ringing boxes.

“Hey, Chief!”

He waved his hand in the air but didn’t look toward the yelling man. “Be back later, Snyder. Busy now.”

We left the noisy precinct, heading out into the crowded streets. I fell behind almost immediately and lost sight of Chief. A strong hand grabbed mine, pulling me through the suffocating masses.

“You’re gonna have to keep up, little lady.”

The familiar reference brought fresh pain to my troubled heart. I reached out and took my next change of clothing from the nearby display rack being wheeled into a storefront. When Chief saw the new garments draped across my arm, his eyes flashed with fury.

“Where’d you get that?”

“The same place I always—”

He cut my words off with a stern glare. “You can’t keep doing this.” Chief grabbed the clothes from my hand and pulled me inside the open shop. “I’m very sorry, Ma’am. My friend here took these clothes and I need to pay for them.”

The elegant woman behind the counter looked at him and raised a single eyebrow as she replied. “These aren’t
our
clothes. We don’t carry anything like that here.”

Chief turned those furious eyes back on me and spoke through gritted teeth. “Tell me where you got them.”

“H-here,” I stuttered.

He let out an exasperated sigh and jerked on my captive hand, dragging me from one store to the next, in vain.

“Listen to me, Chief. God provides what I need. Not in excess, but in necessity. I know when I walk by what has been intended for me and I thankfully take it.”

“Well, since I can’t figure out where they came from, you can keep them, this time. But you’ve got to quit taking things that don’t belong to you,” he demanded.

“But… they
do
belong to me,” I mumbled, more to myself than to him.

“And why did you call me Chief?”

I looked up to find his narrowed eyes searching my face. “That’s how Snyder referred to you, is it not?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Yes, but that’s my title, my job. Not my name. My name’s Tony.”

“Apologies, Tony. It’s very nice to meet you.” I bowed and then extended my hand. “My name is Jenevier Embarr.”

He took my proffered hand. His grip was strong. “Yeah, I figured the first name out pretty quick. I’m sharp like that.” He winked and held up the self-titled paperback.

Tony squeezed my hand and studied me for a long moment. I could have sworn I saw a tiny spark of belief flash in his eyes, and then it disappeared.

“Here we go.” He opened the glass door, leading me into a large room full of overstuffed furniture, stopping only when he was face to face with a young man behind yet another counter.

I picked up a plastic card and turned to leave. Tony grabbed my arm.

“And just where do you think you’re going, little lady?”

I looked down at his hand and he quickly released me.

I don’t like being pawed at or grabbed
, I thought, absently. “To my room,” I said.

“What room? We haven’t even checked in yet.”

The polite young gentleman behind the counter was now speaking to Tony. “Will you be requiring an additional room, sir?”

He turned quickly as he spoke to the concierge. “What do you mean,
additional
?”

“A room in addition to the one Madam has procured.”

“And just when did she
procure
this room?” Tony questioned the confused clerk.

“Only just.” The young man tilted his head to the side. “Are you feeling well, sir?”

This time
I
was the one dragging
him
away by the hand. “Come, Tony. We’ll discuss this later.”

My new found
boss
took my plastic card key and pushed a button on the wall as I headed to the door marked STAIRS.

“Room 434, huh?” He was staring up at some lights on the wall. “So, when and how’d you manage this?” He turned to me then. “Where are you going now?”

“To find my room.”

A hole slid open in the wall and he stepped inside. “Are you coming?”

“Where?”

He jerked me into the hole before it closed back over. “To your room. Have you already forgotten? And do you want to explain this to me now or later?” He was shaking the plastic card in front of my face.