Broken (18 page)

I was lucky I had Jonathan, I supposed. There was no way I could have done this alone.

It was intriguing
to be with him again. After so many years of pining for his
company, it did feel good to be near him once more. It was a
different type of comfort, and one I needed right now.

The water in the tub turned tepid so I decided it was time to
let Jonathan take his turn. I felt a little guilt for having taken
so long, but I really needed the time to myself — a moment to
take stock and think. I didn’t have any more answers than
before, but I felt like I was catching up with my own life.

I cloaked myself in a luxurious terrycloth robe and opened the
door to find Jonathan sitting on the bed.

“Feel better?” he asked. In his hands he was
fingering a new set of emerald earrings. They had a different
setting, a Celtic pattern instead of a flower, but the stone was
the same color.

“All but my aching feet,” I said. “I need to
find some different shoes.” I sat across from him, still in
my robe, and took the earrings.

“Don’t put them on yet. I want to think of some way
to help you. She may not be able to see you in the dream, but
there’s no guarantee.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I won’t do
anything foolish.”

He kissed me on the forehead and left to shower. I lay down on
the bed, examining the earrings.

What would I see this time? Another ancestor dying?

I thought back to who I’d been through already. My father,
grandfather, and great-grandfather. I figured I had at least two
more generations to go back if I followed the pattern that Mother
had written out.

And either one of those trips could be my last if I wasn’t
careful.

Jonathan didn’t shower as long as I did. The door opened,
and he stood there in a towel. I sat up when I saw the steam rising
off his body. He looked like he did in my dream — huge
shoulders, broad chest, and those ridges along each side of his abs
that funneled my eyes downwards. A few stray beads of water rolled
over the ripples on his stomach.

I had a lot of trouble keeping my mouth closed. Turning away
wasn’t an option either. He was like some kind of demigod
standing there — all smooth and flawless.

“What?” he said. His eyes were playful. “You
took the only robe.”

I got up. I needed to get dressed.

He stood in front of me, blocking the tight path to the bathroom
and my modesty.

“I guess I should move.” He paused. “If you
want me to.”

I swallowed.

My eyes were even with his shoulders. I couldn’t look
anywhere but at his chest. I couldn’t bring myself to look
into his eyes, afraid of what I would find there. I had lost myself
in them long ago, and I wasn’t sure I could recover a second
time.

Besides, what about Chris?

He didn’t wait for me to answer. Instead, he escorted me
to the bed.

“Let me see your feet,” he said. He knelt in front
of me and took one of my feet in his hands.

I refused to look in his eyes. I just looked down at my
toes.

Don’t look at him, Katherine. Don’t look.

He started with the heel, pressing on the bottom of it, rolling
his thumb over it in slow, rhythmic pulses. I closed my eyes.

A moan escaped my lips.

I thought he’d move quickly onward, but he didn’t.
He took his time, continuing to push against my heel, kneading it.
I never knew how badly I needed this. I gripped the bed sheets.

He moved upwards, sliding his thumb into the arch of my foot.
Both of his hands had a solid grasp, bracing my foot while his
thumbs twisted their way upwards, pushing deep into the muscle.

Oh my god.

I resisted the urge to lie back, but with every stroke it was
hard to remain upright. A warmth started to run up my legs. I kept
my eyes closed.

He moved towards the ball of my foot, massaging the pads. He
worked the pain out with slow, deliberate strokes. Then he lowered
my foot and moved to the next. The moment he touched the heel I
slid back on the bed. I couldn’t sit any longer, and
everything inside of me shuddered.

The heat started to move its way up further.

I envisioned him sliding up towards me. In my mind, the warmth
working its way up my legs was from the heat of his hardened body
against me.

Again, he drove his thumb against the muscles in my foot. My
toes curled. My eyes rolled back.

I groaned.

Heat now enveloped my whole body like a warm fire. He kept
working at my foot until I almost cried out from the mix of relief
and pleasure. Yet the thought that flashed through my head was how
much I wished Chris was there. I missed his arms around me. I
missed his delicate whispers in my ear.

The heat subsided and Jonathan lowered my foot. I felt him
rise.

I opened my eyes.

And in his eyes I found ... nothing.

“You should get dressed,” he said. “And I
think it’s time to use the earrings. We’re running out
of time.”

I looked at him like an idiotic deer about to be plowed down by
a Mack truck.

What the hell had just happened? Or not happened?

“Your feet should be fine now,” he said and slipped
back into the washroom.

I looked up at the ceiling, trying to sort out what was going
on. Was that some Nymph trick he’d just used on me? Was he testing
me? Or was I really pining for him that badly?

Had he sensed my guilt over this?

I had to admit, after that experience, I could just imagine what
sex with Jonathan would be like. The heat that had enveloped me had
been consuming. My body was yearning for more. It was bringing back
everything I’d felt at sixteen in torrents of cravings.

Yet the thinking part of me was sort of relieved it hadn’t
actually happened. I had enough complications right now in trying
to simply survive. I didn’t need a screwed up love life.

I sat up and went to the window. Rain fell in heavy sheets that
made seeing the other side of the road almost impossible.

When Jonathan finished dressing I rushed into the washroom. I
washed my face with cold water in the sink. It gave me some
perspective and some relief from my body’s withdrawal. I
rolled my ankles and wiggled my toes. He had certainly done a
number on my feet. I felt like I was walking on air. I slipped back
into my previous clothes and stepped out.

Jonathan was holding the earrings, and both of us knew I needed
to get down to business. Nothing further was said about what might
have happened.

I took them and hooked one in. “Take these out if anything
looks strange,” I stated abruptly as I lay down on the
bed.

He handed me his blade. “Take this with you. Take the
scarf too,” he said, fetching it from the washroom.
“Wear it.”

Strangely, it wasn’t stained with my blood. With one hand
I clutched the blade, and with the other I hooked in the earring. I
was ready.

This bitch needed to know who was boss.

Chapter 22

I found myself on a ship again, different from the last. And
that was mostly because of the way the men were dressed. They were
dashing through the corridors. Alarms were echoing through the
passageway.

The sense of urgency was infectious, the fear palpable. The next
thing I knew I was running with them, unsure of where I was going
or whom I was looking for.

I just ran.

Of course, I was in the stupid, puffy dress again.

I stopped to look about, watching the men. One of them had to be
who I was looking for. I was also watching for Morgana. The blade
was still in my hand, cold and hard. I had no idea what to do with
it, but it was here.

Pressed against the wall, I let the men run past. I knew
they’d just go through me, but I still felt the need to get
out of the way. They were all young. And Brits again.

The wall across from me had painted on it the name of the
ship.

H.M.S. Queen Mary

I felt for them. If this was going to end like the last ship,
most of them would likely not survive.

I knew I had better act quickly because things were likely going
to take a bad turn soon. About to try another corridor further down
the hall, a man grabbed my arm and pulled me with him.

I gasped.

How could he touch me?

“Come with me,” he said. “It’s not safe
here.”

I looked at his face from the side. He was likely a Gregory from
what I could see.

“How can you see me?” I asked, keeping pace with
him.

He waited for some men to pass before speaking.
“I’ve always been able to see your kind. I joined the
Navy to be rid of you. This much metal should be keeping you
away.”

My mind reeled. I still had a hard time grasping how he could
see me. I decided to go with it though. I wasn’t sure I
should tell him what was going to happen to him, or that it was him
I was looking for.

“Then why are you helping me?”

“We’re in a battle. This is no place for someone
like you.”

He paused to let three men pass, then he took me down another
corridor.

“Besides, you remind me of my sister.”

I wondered if it was because of the scarf or the blade he could
see me. Perhaps this set of earrings worked differently. And if
he
could see me….

Oh god. Morgana.

He pulled me round another corner into a tight space where he
was pretty much pressed up against me. I got a better look at his
face. He was definitely one of my own.

I wasn’t sure what he wanted. The blade was ready if I
needed it.

He must have seen the fear in my face. His expression
softened.

“I need to take you somewhere safe.” His lips
pressed together. “Well, as safe as it’s going to be
when the torpedoes hit.”

Huh?
“What are you talking about?”

I was still trying to get my head around the fact I was actually
talking to him.

“At 4:25, this ship is going to be blown in half. There
will only be eight survivors. Your best chances are at the aft end
of the ship.”

I blinked. “How do you know that?”

He pulled out a pair of emerald cufflinks. “My sister gave
these to me.”

“Marigold,” I whispered.

He nodded and smiled. “You know her?”

I checked the earrings. They were still there. “She’s my
grandfather’s aunt. She gave me something similar once.”

“They let me see the future,” he said.

“See the future? But I see the past, not the
future.”

He nodded. “I did, too, at first. And I watched how my
father died. This woman killed him. She drowned him.”

“Golden hair?” I asked.

He nodded. “I reversed the stones, just to see what would
happen. My sister thinks we’re cursed. But I’m going to
die on this ship. I’m not going to let her take me.
I’ll die on
my
terms, not hers.”

I said nothing. He was either insane, or incredibly brave. For
all either of us knew, Morgana could be aiming the torpedoes as we
spoke.

“Marigold promised to look after my son,” he said.
“And to find a way to end this.” More men were
scurrying past the corridor. He pulled me out and we started
walking once more. “If you’re here, that means my son
was probably taken.” He pressed his lips together. “She’s your grandfather’s aunt? That would make me...”

“You’re my great-great-grandfather.”

“And Marigold is alive in your time?”

I nodded. “She just passed away.”

He had a twinkle in his eye, seemingly realizing she had found a way to live well beyond the number of years he expected. He didn’t comment on it as he escorted me
through another metal corridor and then finally stopped outside a
door.

“You have a better chance of survival in here.” He
handed me the cufflinks. “I don’t need these any
longer. I couldn’t bring myself to use them beyond my own
death. I couldn’t bear to watch my son die at her
hands.”

He turned to leave, but then paused. “Marigold told me
something once. She said she used them herself. She made a deal
with some Faery woman and took something to the future. Something
she thought might end this once and for all. Did she give it to
you?”

I didn’t know what to say. “She gave me earrings. I lost them on the last trip back. Morgana took
them.”

“Morgana,” he muttered. “My mother told me my
father used to cry that name out in his sleep. I think he loved her
once, but she broke his heart.”

He began to walk away. “Good luck to you,” he said
and then stopped. “I don’t even know your
name.”

“Katherine,” I said.

“Good luck, Katherine. End this — for all our
sakes.”

He then ran off to embrace his fate.

I stepped through the door where a number of men were arming
torpedoes. I wondered what to do next. Should I wait around to see
if Morgana showed up or run after him?