Authors: Evie Rhodes

Criss Cross (5 page)

BOOK: Criss Cross

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Chapter 7

M
icah stood outside of Evelyn's gabled Victorian house. When he was a kid the house used to give him the creeps, with its multitude of rooms, creaking floors and whistling windows. Not to mention the images that seemed to float around at their own will.

He'd seen them hovering around in hallways. They also lingered in remote corners of the house. But, when he told his mother she always dismissed it as his overactive imagination. He'd wondered then and sometimes he still wondered now.

Reverend Jackson hadn't been any better at trying to explain his flights of fantasy to him. Micah had found the reverend's explanations even more disturbing because it was almost as if he himself didn't quite believe what he was telling Micah.

He used to wish he had someone to really share the haunting feelings with, as well as the burdens of his mother.

It was hard to believe that in the years she had lived in the house, his mother hadn't seen the weeping old woman. The one with the outstretched arms that she held out to him, as tears streamed down her face. Her hair flew out behind her as though a great wind were blowing it. Always she was dressed in a flannel white nightgown with a high collar.

Whenever Micah saw her it was always the same old thing. She reached out her arms to him weeping in sorrow. He had nicknamed her the “Weeping Willow” when he was a kid. Strangely enough he hadn't seen her since he was grown.

He wished he hadn't started on this train of thought because all it did was increase his frustration regarding his mother. As he stood looking at the gabled house, the memories had flooded him.

He also felt something else. He shivered. He looked up to see the vines on one of the trees blowing in the wind. There was no wind. None of the branches or leaves on the other trees was blowing.

The vines turned to claws, reaching for him. Micah shook himself. He was a grown man now. Not a kid. He wouldn't stand for this. He blinked and the image disappeared.

Micah blew out a harsh breath. He didn't know why Evelyn insisted on living in this house. He wished she would move to something lighter and brighter, maybe a nice town house.

Although he respected his heritage and the inheritance of the house, it carried a certain weight. Its historical value aside, he preferred to leave the ghosts of the past as well as his ancestors in the past. But Evelyn insisted on keeping them alive by not relinquishing the old Victorian.

Finally, he glided to the porch and stuck his key in the lock. Entering the foyer Micah called out, “Ma, hey Ma, where are you?”

Evelyn was standing in the kitchen pouring a cup of coffee. Upon hearing Micah's voice she quickly laced her coffee with Chivas Regal.

Evelyn Jordan-Wells was now an agoraphobic, renowned novelist writing under the pseudonym of Blaine Upshaw. “I'm in the kitchen Micah,” she yelled.

Micah passed through the parlor on his way to the kitchen and two items on Evelyn's writing table caught his eye.

He spotted the daily newspaper with its blaring headline. “Micah Jordan-Wells Slays Another of Newark's Dragons.” A picture of Micah staring at a flaming Silky exploded from the front page. Micah looked at it. Then he tossed the paper into the wastepaper basket.

Next he picked up the Advanced Reading Copy of Evelyn's newest novel,
In the Garden of Eden
. Micah stared at the novel without opening it and Evelyn walked into the parlor, observing his keen interest in the book.

“Micah, what's keeping you?” she asked.

Micah held up the novel. “Is this the latest and greatest?”

Evelyn tilted her head watching Micah. She bit her bottom lip, a bad habit she had developed over the years and replied, “Yes. Yes, it is.”

Micah finally turned to look at her and said, “It's a strange title.”

Evelyn walked over and touched Micah's arm while looking up at him gently. “It's gothic romance, Micah. The concept is derived from the pureness of the experience between the first man and woman.”

Micah looked at her cynically. “It wasn't all pureness, lady. There was a serpent in that garden.”

Evelyn hesitated her eyes growing serious. “As there is in every garden. You are so cynical at times, Micah.”

Micah gave her his most long-suffering look. The one he reserved for her whenever she said things like that. “It's what's kept me alive so far.”

Evelyn pulled a wry smile. “TouchÃ©, Micah. TouchÃ©.”

She reached into the wastepaper basket retrieving the newspaper. “I see you've been making more headlines of your own. Slaying dragons and all that.”

Micah replied, “Yeah, I make it happen and one day the hunters are the hunted and the slayers are the slain.”

Unknowingly he had touched a raw nerve in Evelyn. She snapped at him. “Do not be dark with me, Micah.”

She laid the newspaper back on her writing desk. Micah was immediately apologetic. “I'm sorry, Ma. I've got a lot on my mind. Listen, I just came by to see if you needed anything.”

He paused for a moment, looking at her pointedly. “I wanted to take you for a walk.”

A flash of naked fear crossed Evelyn's face. She hyperventilated. Micah was accustomed to these attacks so he put an arm around her shoulders.

“You know I can't go for a walk, Micah,” Evelyn's raspy voice was almost a whisper.

A tremor passed through her body. Her breathing was harsh and loud. Somewhere in the background a whistling wind floated through the house. A symphony of screeching voices rode through the room on an invisible blanket of sound that only Evelyn could hear.

Gently, Micah guided her to a chair. He eased her down on the chair and patted one of her hands soothingly. “Ma, one day soon, you're going to have to go outside. There is nothing to be afraid of.”

Evelyn moaned. She shook her head from side to side. She panted, “No, Micah. Never. I just can't. I know it is just an illness . . .” She couldn't finish her sentence. Her eyes were framed photographs of dismay.

Micah had consulted every expert psychiatrist, as well as every psychologist available. They had all been to this house at one time or another. The bottom line was that Evelyn had to overcome her fears by facing them. But she was incapacitated and could not bring herself to do so.

Evelyn hadn't ever left the house in all the years that he had been alive. Micah's shoulders slumped from the tragedy of it all.

No psychiatrist or psychologist had ever been able to determine the source of Evelyn's fear. All they knew was that prior to Micah's birth, she had stopped going outside. She had not stepped out of the house since. So much for experts.

Micah stared at his mother. His eyes held a questioning look. He decided to let it go. Every time they had this conversation of her going outside, it ended exactly the same way.

He couldn't bear to see her in pain. The issue of her going outside always produced that pain, the sudden fear. He wondered once again at the source of it and then backed away as he drew the usual blank.

He watched Evelyn retreat into that special place of hers. Where warm and embracing arms reached out to comfort her.

Micah didn't know. He could never understand. How could he possibly ever, ever understand? Nor could she jeopardize him for any reason. No. No, there was just no way. She watched Micah's face slowly fade away from her world.

Evelyn sought peace, in that corner of her mind that had been helping her for more than thirty years.

Micah brushed long, dark locks of hair peppered with gray, back from her brow, knowing and accepting she was beyond his reach for the moment.

Chapter 8

T
hat night, Micah lay in his bedroom with his girlfriend, Raven Oliver. Raven was the owner of a specialty boutique shop in Newark. She was also a model in New York City. She had a flair for fashion that overflowed into her life. It made her a vibrant individual. Style and class were stamped all over her.

She was a tall, svelte, young woman with an athletic body, caramel-colored skin and soulful-looking brown eyes, which at times appeared too large for her face.

It was exactly this look that had helped her to grace the covers of some fine magazines. Raven's eyes were a startling brown with flecks of gold. When she stared out from a magazine cover, all you could see were those eyes and the fine high cheekbones accentuating her face.

She was also hell on a runway. When she strutted down the aisle, generally every eye and camera was fastened on her.

Raven had known Micah was meant for her from the start. Though there were times when Micah's mystique baffled her. Sometimes he seemed so near and yet so far away. But there was no denying that the impact of a look from Micah sent quivers up and down her spine. With a single look he had laid claim to her heart. She was locked in solid.

Micah and Raven lay on a thick rug on the floor of his bedroom watching the flames leap and crackle from the fireplace. Candles were burning around the room. Micah was finally getting some much-needed relaxation.

As Micah relaxed, the one who never slept watched his every move from in between the beams of his walls. As he watched intently, he reduced Micah to nothing but an aura, removing the physicality of the man that Micah was. He did not like what he saw. Still, he continued to watch.

Raven traced Micah's hairline softly with one finger. Slow, tantalizing music reverberated from giant surround-sound speakers. A silver bucket filled with ice held a bottle of MÃ¶et. Raven leaned over for a long lingering kiss.

She pulled back to look at Micah. “Why don't you take a break, Micah? Get away from the demons of the streets. Let's go away. It's been so long since we've been out of Newark.”

Suddenly one of the candles blew out. Micah gave it a strange look. He reached over and relit it. Raven looked around the room. There was no draft.

Returning to the conversation Micah said, “We'll go. Soon. How's the house hunting going? Have you seen anything I'd want to be king of the castle in?”

Raven smiled. She was aware of Micah's penchant for changing difficult subjects. He was definitely sidestepping her now. “No. I haven't yet seen home and hearth. I'm still looking.”

Micah poured some champagne in their glasses. He looked tenderly at Raven. “Soon. I promise. Soon. Come on, let's dance.”

He pulled Raven to her feet, pulling her into a tight embrace. Slowly they twined their bodies, content to just hold each other.

Raven nibbled on Micah's ear. “If you keep this up I might forgive you for not giving me a definite answer.”

Micah laughed. “I'm giving you candlelight, firelight, champagne and love. What more do you want?”

Raven looked up at him wistfully. “That's easy. I want you Micah, all of you. And when the time comes, a baby. I'd name him Micah Jordan-Wells Jr. It has a nice ring to it. Doesn't it?”

The distinct cry of a baby rang out at the mention of her words. Both of them stopped in their tracks. “Was that you?” Raven said. She had heard the rumors of Micah's ventriloquist days in the police academy. Back when he had thought it was funny to imitate the voices of different criminals.

“It wasn't me.” The hair stood up on his arms. He released Raven, looking around the room. He went to the window and looked out. There was nothing.

The cry rang out once again.

Raven grabbed her midsection as a sharp, knifelike pain stabbed through her stomach muscles. Upon hearing the cry something in her womb had jumped. It knocked the breath out of her. In an instant it was gone.

“Micah. Something's going on.”

“Nothing's going on. Forget it, Raven.” He didn't want her getting spooked, but he definitely didn't like the happenings. “Maybe we just had too much champagne.” They both looked at the barely touched bottle.

“Just forget about it.” Micah lay down on the rug. “Come over here.” Raven shrugged off the feeling. She didn't want the night to be ruined by what probably amounted to some stranger's baby crying. But what about the stomach pains? She sighed, pushing the thought from her mind.

Micah laughed. “I never figured you for the barefoot and pregnant type.”

Raven gave him an indignant look. “If it's draped in contemporary dignity I could be. Yes.”

They both giggled, releasing the tension. “I love you Raven. One day you're going to have it all. I'm going to see to that. Just give it a little more time. Okay?”

Raven nodded her surrender. She pulled Micah's face to hers for the sweetness of his kiss.

“Besides, I need time to gather a little more change so I can buy you that big rock I've been thinking of.”

Raven pushed Micah back against the rug. She grinned. “Just how big of a rock are we talking about here?”

Micah shook his head not giving an inch. “It's a man's prerogative. I'll never tell. Big enough so your girlfriends don't miss it.”

Raven laughed. “You are such an ego-tripper.”

“You know you love it.”

“Yeah. I do. Give me the rock!”

Micah smiled. The telephone rang. A look of annoyance flashed across Raven's face. “Micah do not answer it. Please.”

Micah sat up. “I have to. You know that.”

“No, you don't.”

He winked at Raven but she would not be placated. She turned her head away, pouting like a petulant child.

The telephone continued to ring. He lifted the receiver. “Micah Jordan-Wells here.”

He listened intently to the voice on the line. A closed mask instantly settled itself over Micah's features.

As Raven watched an enigmatic energy seeped from Micah's pores. It bounced off the walls in the room. She watched in a state of disbelief as Micah slammed the phone down. He raced from the room without a second thought.

From in between the beams of the walls Quentin gave a satisfied smile. With that he was gone.

Raven ran after Micah. When she caught up with him, she wheeled him around to face her. “Where are you going? Come on, Micah. Not tonight. All I ever do is wait for you. I'm tired of waiting. We never have any time together. It's always the job. You have to make some time for you and me. We need a life.”

Micah briefly caught her face between his hands. “And we'll have one. I promise. But right now I have to go. I'm sorry Raven. I'll make it up to you.” He dropped a distracted kiss on her cheek. Before she could say another word, he was gone.

Tears of frustration rolled down Raven's cheeks. She went into the bedroom. Looking at the bottle of champagne, she picked it up. Angry frustration sizzled through her body. She hurled the champagne into the fireplace.

She was always sitting on eternal wait for Micah. She was always worried about him. She was scared that one day he wouldn't return. No matter what she said to him she knew she was not getting through. He was obsessed with chasing monsters.

Raven went home to her own apartment. Her roommate and business partner in the boutique, Brandi, looked up from the television as Raven walked through the door.

One look at Raven's face and Brandi knew the title of this song. “Cancelled again, huh? When are you going to get a life, Raven, and stop waiting for the crumbs from Micah's life?”

Raven turned on Brandi in white-hot fury. “Mind your own damn business, Brandi. Micah is my business. I'll wait for him as long as I damned well please. Okay? For once, just mind your own business.”

Raven walked into her bedroom. She slammed the door so hard the walls shook.

Brandi turned back to the TV and her bowl of popcorn. “Sister girl's got a bad case,” she uttered to the empty room.

BOOK: Criss Cross

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