Meadow's Keep (The Gatekeepers Series) (11 page)

“Yes…no…I don’t know.” Teresa picked up the spoon and stirred her tea
again. The moonlight caught the silver’s gleam, sending a glimmer with each stir. “You want a cup?”

Jasmine shook her head, “I couldn’t put one drop in my mouth without exploding. I forgot how much food was involved in everything we do here.
”

She watched Teresa
study her cup. “Is there anything I can do?” Jasmine knew Teresa was worrying about Bill.

Teresa shrugged as though her shoulders had grown heavy
under the weight of her worry. She looked over at her cousin, the girl she’d raised as her own. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“You
’re my family.”

Teresa
tried to smile at her. “Yes. We are.” Then, taking a deep breath, she continued, “So, being family, I will ask you to intervene. Talk to Bill. Make him see reason. If he won’t see Mike Yancy, make him see someone.”

Jasmine heard
Teresa’s voice hitch and saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes. She reached across the table and covered the thin hand with her own. “Of course I will. I promise.” She hesitated for a moment, thought about Eryk and how she should ask him first, then decided to hell with it and spoke. “Eryk has Morgan’s abilities…plus Dorian’s. Let me ask Bill to let him try a healing push. I know he wouldn’t let Morgan, her being pregnant and all. Maybe he’ll let Eryk.”

Teresa nodded. “Anything,” she
said. “Anything at all.”

Jasmine rose. “
I’ll talk to him first thing in the morning. I’m headed over to my apartment now. I want to see it.”

“It’s clean.
There are some things in the fridge. I tried to keep it ready in case you showed up.”

“I figured you would.
Call me if you need me.” She leaned over and kissed the top of Teresa’s head. “Promise?”

Teresa reached up and patted her hand. “I promise,” she said quietly then turned back to her cup.

Jasmine stopped once as she opened the front door to leave, glancing back at the woman she loved like a mother—the woman everyone loved. There was something about her. She wore a mantle of caring. Her. Dorian. Bonnie and Claire. the Misses, Grace and Alice. Everyone that came within her sphere was the better for it.

And Bill. Jasmine didn’t know the
real story about them, except that Teresa had taken Bill under her wing as well when he’d returned to Ruthorford all those years ago. It had been quite a scandal for a while. After all, Teresa and Mike Yancy had been dating for three years. Even though he wasn’t a descendant, everyone expected them to marry. They were the perfect couple. Love showed from their eyes so strongly you could feel it.

Then
, Bill came back, having left Ruthorford right after high school to make his fortune—or, just get away. He swept Teresa off her feet. Suddenly, she and Mike were no more and she and Bill were married.

It was right after they got married that Jasmine’s parents died and she went to live with them. Bill was big, burly and lovable.
He was also a recluse. He lived in his kitchen most of the time. They worked hard at making a family for her, giving her a “normal” life. But, from what Jasmine saw, it was a façade. She knew they loved each other. As she got older, she realized that the love they shared was different. Definitely not the love Jasmine had seen between Teresa and Mike. She’d asked Teresa about it once. Teresa became vehement—the only time she’d seen her really angry—telling Jasmine it was none of her business. So, Jasmine never asked again.

Jasmine stepped down the stone steps and stopped, taking her fill of Main Street as it stretch
ed before her in the night. The fountain was off. The street was lit by the low burning street lamps, giving the visage of a time gone by. A few lights shone from the shops. A light from the second story above The Shoppe of Spells showed that Dorian and Morgan had retired for the night. A soft light filtered from her apartment above The Fashion Flair, as well. She headed down the street, letting its familiarity hug her. Even after her attack, she felt safe here. Ruthorford would never let anything happen to her.

She
unlatched the wooden gate and stepped into the narrow alley that led from Main Street to the back of her shop where her car was parked. A light beamed down from the upper landing. She made her way up the stairs and put the key in the lock.
Home.
It had been too long. She twisted the knob and stopped as the screech of an owl pierced the night. That was something else she hadn’t heard in a long time, the sound of Ruthorford’s Snowy Owls. She stilled, waiting. It was comforting to know they were about, even if the activity of the portal was reportedly nil.

Legend was
that the Snowy Owls flew en masse, warning the inhabitants that the creatures were roaming. She’d only seen them swarm once, and that was right after Melissa and Thom had died. Not having the ability to see the Gulatega, even with her enhanced abilities, she had to rely on someone like Eryk or an animal—like the Snowy Owl—to warn her. They’d flown nightly after the deaths, until Morgan arrived. Once she joined with Dorian, the owls quieted. Still, she listened for the cacophony of birdcalls. None came.

A motion in the air made her turn. Suddenly, she was watching the ground speed past
, the detail precise. A mouse scurried far below. Just as quickly, the image was gone and she fell against the door, which swung open, propelling her into the apartment. Unable to gain her balance, she careened across the room, falling over an ill-placed chair. A screech of her own carried into the night as she landed on her wrist.

On his balcony, Eryk hear
d a sound. Another owl screaming in the night? He listened. His hearing had always been enhanced. More of a curse than a blessing, he heard everything. And, unless he consciously tuned it down, everything at a high decibel level. Jasmine’s voice was one of the few that didn’t completely grate on him. Thinking about it, he realized he’d had less issues with his hearing since he’d arrived in this small town.

A
pain shot through his wrist.
What the hell?
He looked down at the wrist he’d just pulled away from the railing. It looked fine.
Jasmine.
It was more of a feeling than a thought. He took off running, leaving his room door open and leaping the last four steps into the lobby. He stopped, looking down Main Street. Two lights shone out of upper story windows. One over The Shoppe of Spells and a very faint one directly across from it. He ran around the side of the B & B to the small lane that ran behind the shops. He saw the SUV they’d driven and headed that way. He looked up and saw the door hung open above what he assumed was her shop. He didn’t care. At this point, he’d rather apologize than be wrong. Taking the stairs two at a time, he bounded up, calling her name. He heard a faint whimper, then a curse.

His vision allowed hi
m to see into the dark space. She was on the floor, leaning against the couch in the dark. A chair lay on its side, nearby. He saw a faint line of light coming from under a closed door. Jasmine moaned and held her wrist.

“Jasmine,” he called softly, not wanting to scare her.

“Eryk?” She let out a soft moan.

He was by her side in an instant, kne
eling, taking her arm in his hands. She winced. He blinked and looked at the wrist. The energy spiked at an angle, but with no irregular spikes. “It’s out of its socket. Hang on.” He let the energy flow through his arms into his hands, warming her joint, then he moved it quickly, snapping it into place.

“Shit!” she cursed. “Why is it my joints keep coming apart?” She moaned the question.

He immediately scanned the rest of her. She looked fine. “That’s the only one,” he told her.

Jasmine pushed back her bangs with her free hand and struggled to get up. When she reached the level of the couch, she collapsed
into the soft cushions. Shaking her head, she looked at him. “When I was in the mine, my shoulder became dislocated. Dorian had to put it back in. Not the greatest feeling in the world.”

“I bet not,” he said and sat down next to her.

“What are you doing here?” She looked at him. His beautiful eyes glowed, the light moving. He blinked and it stabilized into a steady, albeit unusual, green. He turned from her stare. “You might want more lights on in the future,” he said. “Just a suggestion.”

“Thanks, Sherlock. You didn’t answer my question.”

“I heard you.”

Her eyes widened. “I screamed that loud?”

“Probably not. I have hyperacusis…a sensitivity to sound,” he explained when she furrowed her brow.

“I can see where that might come in handy.”

“When it’s not painful,” he amended.

“Oh
…I’m sorry.” She softened her voice.

“You don’t have to do that. For some reason
, your voice doesn’t bother me. In fact, nothing has bothered me since I arrived in this town. I still hear everything, it just doesn’t hurt.” He reached over her and turned on the lamp on the table. “Your turn.”

“What do you mean?”

“What really happened?” He smiled at her.

She started to shrug and decided what the hell.
“It was like the plane…or the fair…suddenly I was seeing from the air. I became disoriented and leaned on the door, which, unfortunately, I’d already opened. Hence…,” she held up her wrist.

In response, he took it gentl
y and moved it to his lips.

Teasing
, she pointed a finger to her pouting lips. “Ouch,” she pouted.

He smiled into her eyes right before he let his mouth
cover hers.

Bad idea,
she thought as she melted into his kiss.

****

Across the street, things weren’t quite so agreeable.

“
Why didn’t YOU tell him?” Morgan spun around on the small bench, wielding the hairbrush like a pointer, or a sword, depending on one’s perspective.

“Be careful with that thing,” Dorian taunted her.

Morgan narrowed her eyes.

“Look, I thought you were going to talk with Jasmine.”
He took the brush out of her hands and started brushing her long red hair.

Morgan relaxed into the soothing strokes of the brush.
“Dorian, Jasmine and I haven’t been all that close,” she sighed and leaned back as he set down the brush and started messaging her shoulders. “I didn’t want her to think I was warning her away from yet another Drake.”

“I get your point
,” he said, remembering how irrationally Jasmine had reacted to Morgan’s arrival. She’d been downright vampish. “Well, someone ought to say something to one of them,” he looked around, out the window at the soft lights coming from Jasmine’s apartment, “and soon, given the way they were eyeing one another earlier tonight.”

“You don’t think…?”

“Not yet,” he looked at his gorgeous wife in the mirror, “but if he’s affected one-tenth as much as I was, it won’t be long.”

Morgan turned and let her lips brush across his hand. “I know. There’s no hope for them.”

****

Jasmine pushed him away. She felt all tingly inside, like a fire was starting that she couldn’t put out. I
t wasn’t fear she felt. She just didn’t know him well enough, yet.

Eryk sat up. Somehow
, they’d slid down onto the cushions of the couch and her sweater was hiked up, exposing the smooth flesh above the low-rise pants. Every inch of him ached to touch her, to taste her, to bury himself in her. He jumped up and walked to the window, trying to put as much distance as he could between them and still be in the same room.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice came out breathy.

“I told you it was okay. I won’t push you.” He turned around. Jasmine was sitting up and adjusting her sweater. He blinked. Her aura swirled and pulsed. He closed his eyes. That was
not
going to help. “If you’re all right, I better go.”

She moved her wrist. It didn’t hurt at all. “Yes. I’m fine. Thank you for coming,” she said perfunctorily.

They looked at one another and laughed. This was a fine situation. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other, yet…there was something keeping them apart. She followed him to the door, not too closely, and waited until he stepped on the landing. “Thanks again.” She held up her wrist.

Eryk stopped in front of the bed and breakfast and looked back down Main Street. All the shops were dark now, including The Shoppe of Spells. A single soft light glowed from Jasmine’s apartment.

What a day!
He was exhausted. He couldn’t remember when he’d ever been exhausted. Of course, he couldn’t remember when such a delicate woman—or anyone for that matter—had drained energy off him like she did. And, in such a stimulating way. He smiled to himself as he opened the front door, gently closed it behind him, and headed up the steps to his room. His room door stood open, just as he’d left it. Given what he’d learned today, he doubted this town had too many petty thieves.

Eryk stripped off his clothes and took a hot shower, briskly rubbing off the water
. He winced as the towel ran over his hip and glanced down. The birthmark, a circle in a circle shape he’d had all of this life, looked darker and raised, almost like a welt. That had never happened before. Maybe he ran into something. He blinked and looked at his own aura in the mirror. It seemed closer to his body but still glowed in his customary colors. Except, he noted, there seemed to be more violet in the colors. He shrugged, flipped off the bathroom light and slipped into bed, hoping to capture a few hours of sleep. On most nights, his mind raced and sleep eluded him. Tonight, his eyes closed and he slipped into a warm dream about a soft woman with black eyes.