Return to Eden (10 page)

"I need water."

Thankfully, Grace filled a pot and brought it to her. Jacob was in no condition to use his power. His knees gave out and he landed on his backside on the tile. Pain shot through the torn flesh on his side. "Malini."

She plunged her burnt arm into the pot of water, healing herself, then moved to Jacob. Her touch was a welcome relief. The light flooded through him until he felt his flesh stitch back together and the burn under the skin extinguish.

"This is getting to be a nasty habit, Jacob," she whispered to him.

His mouth pulled to one side. "I think I'm getting better at it."

"Better at getting pummeled?"

He sat up and pushed her hand away. "Hey, I killed both of them. A little respect."

Malini plunged her burnt hand again, turning toward the others. "Is anyone else injured?"

Samantha held out her arm, slashed from elbow to wrist. Malini crossed the room to heal her, then healed herself.

Jacob turned in a circle, taking in the splatters of red human blood mixed with sprays of black from the slaughtered Watchers. The kitchen was trashed. Well, everywhere but the grill, which had been shielded by the vent hood.

"Hey, I think the burgers are still good," Jacob said.

The girls' mouths dropped open at the same time, and their eyes bugged out of their sockets. Grace's eyebrows arced into her curly red bangs.

"I’m just sayin’. They smell really good and, ah, well there’s a little blood but that will come right off." Jacob poked at a burger with a spatula.

The sizzle of the burgers was the only sound as Grace scanned her destroyed kitchen and then her two girls. Her eyes landed on Malini and she sighed deeply. "We’ll come. We’ll come with you."

Malini pulled the woman into a tight hug.

Chapter 13

Abigail

Abigail arrived at Pauly’s Nightclub just after one and filtered into the back of the crowded dance floor. Malini’s note said Ethan would be behind the bar at 1:15 a.m., but Abigail wanted time to scope out the place. With a virgin Soulkeeper, she needed to be prepared. If Lucifer had her followed, there could be trouble.

A throbbing mass of people packed the dance floor, glimpses of the bar flashing between flesh and sweat. Squares of glass lined the walls and the front of the bar, lit from within by blue light. Latin pop delivered an intoxicating rhythm that moved the crowd as one, a living organism rising and falling with the beat. She edged her way around the crowd, near the booths with black leather bench seats and lime green curtains, taking in everyone and everything the way only a creature of the night could.

"Do you want to dance?" The woman who cut Abigail off was stunning, with long brunette hair, blue eyes, and a figure that rivaled Abigail’s illusion. She could’ve been a Watcher, but she smelled human.

"Sorry, I can’t," Abigail said.

"Too bad. You’re the hottest thing in this place." Smiling, the woman blended back into the mass of bodies.

Abigail perused the faces in front of her, couples pressed against each other in the dark. There were men and women but the men were with men and the women were with women. Yep, this was a gay bar. After so many years of living in Paris, Illinois, she’d almost forgotten they existed. If anyone in Paris was homosexual they were so far in the closet they were halfway to Narnia.

She continued toward the bar, glancing at her cell phone. Two minutes to go. A bartender in a tight black t-shirt fixed drinks and made change as fast as he could. Servers pressed against one corner of the bar and guests leaned on every inch of it. Abigail sifted through the crowd, watching the seconds tick off to 1:15. It had to be the bartender. She waited for a sign, a clue to make sure.

A younger man with a tray of dirty glasses emerged from the crowd and headed for the bar. Blue light reflected off his black hair. He lifted the gate and moved toward the sink. As loud as the music was, the bartender didn’t hear him coming. He turned into the young man’s tray, sending glasses tumbling. The young man pushed the bartender down to the floor, switched his tray to his other hand, and caught the falling glasses. To the human eye, it looked like they’d never fallen, that the bartender had bumped into the busboy’s body, not his tray. The young man had saved the glasses from breaking with his mind. This was Ethan.

"Hey, sorry I knocked you down," Ethan said, offering a hand to the bartender. "I thought I was going to drop these.

"No problem, man. Good thing they didn’t fall."

"I've never lost one yet." Ethan bellied up to the sink and started washing the glasses. Abigail moved in.

"Can I speak to you for a moment?" she said across the bar. She had to yell for him to hear over the music.

"What do you need? I’ll have Ray get it for you." Ethan continued his washing but tipped his head in the direction of the bartender. A tight-lipped smile stretched across his clean-shaven olive complexion.

"I need to speak to you in private. It’s important."

"Sorry, I’m working. Are you sure Ray can’t help you?" Now he sounded annoyed. He finished the last glass and dried his hands on a bar towel.

"I’m afraid I must insist that you speak with me, Ethan Walsh, or the consequences could be undesirable."

Ethan’s brown eyes twitched at the corners.

"Is this about Vegas?"

"Please, Ethan, someplace more private," she said. If believing she was someone else got him in a quiet room, she’d use it.

"Ray, I’ll be right back," Ethan called. He tossed the bar towel on the counter and flipped up the gate. He bolted toward the backroom.

Abigail weaved around the patrons to get to him. "Crap," she said. Why did he have to do this the hard way? Strolling to the darkest corner she could find, Abigail slipped into shadow. An advantage of being a reformed Watcher was that she could do what Watchers did. She folded herself into the darkness, slithering passed the dancing couples as a twisting mist. She followed Ethan out the back door, but if he or anyone else saw her it would be only as a ripple of the light, an optical illusion that disappeared in the next blink.

Ethan closed the door behind him and scanned the alley. When he thought he was alone, he placed his hands on his knees and took a deep breath. That’s when Abigail materialized from her shadow and leaned forward to whisper into his ear.

"What happened in Vegas?”

"Holy mother of— Where did you come from?" Ethan ran his hands through his hair and shifted sideways.

A force pushed against Abigail's shoulder. If she’d been human, she’d probably be on the pavement.

"Stop, Ethan. I’m not going to hurt you. You’re not in trouble. There’s something important I need to talk to you about and it has nothing to do with Vegas."

Reluctantly, Ethan pulled over a couple of empty beer crates that were stacked next to the dumpster and took a seat. "Okay. You’ve got my attention. Shoot."

"You have certain gifts that were given to you for a purpose. It’s time for you to meet that purpose."

"What kind of gifts are we talking about? It doesn’t sound like you mean my way with people."

"The telekinesis, Ethan. It’s genetic. You are a Soulkeeper, a soldier for God, charged with protecting human souls. It’s time for you to train to become what you were meant to be."

"Huh?"

"You’re a Soulkeeper, Ethan. Don’t act so surprised. Didn’t you wonder why you could move things with your mind?"

"Occasionally." Ethan cracked the knuckles on his right hand.

"I need you to come with me. It’s not safe here anymore. We need to train you before it’s too late." Abigail held out her hand.

Ethan sighed. "Listen, whoever you are, I have a gut feeling that you actually believe what you’re saying is true, but there is no way I’m a Soulkeeper. I couldn’t be a soldier for God."

"Why not?"

"Well, for starters, I’m gay."

"So?" Abigail said.

"Last time I checked most religious groups would say my lifestyle wasn’t exactly godly."

"Huh. I don’t know about what other people think, but since you are a Soulkeeper, you’re good enough for God, so you’re good enough for me."

"I cheated in Vegas. Moved the roulette ball from red to black. Stole a wad of money from a casino."

"Unfortunate for the people who played red, but I have no idea what bearing your deed has on this conversation." Abigail drummed her fingers on her upper arm.

"I can’t be a soldier for God. I’m a bad person. I do wrong all the time, big stuff, little stuff. There's no way. You’ve got the wrong person."

Abigail folded into the darkness and reappeared above him, upside down and clinging to the wall with the tips of her fingers. His head snapped right, then left, until she let out a deep sigh toward the top of his head.

He shouted something unintelligible and leapt to the other side of the alley. Abigail laughed. Gracefully, she pushed off of the wall, flipping her legs over her head and landing on her feet in front of him.

"What are you?" he gasped.

"You may have noticed, Ethan, that I am not like you." She stepped toward him, extending her arm and allowing her illusion to peel back from her true skin. "I am not human and I am not a Soulkeeper." Closer, she forced him to press his back against the brick wall to avoid touching her. She lowered her voice and motioned toward her chest. "In fact, this body is made of evil."

"I don’t understand. If you’re evil, why are you here? Why are you telling me I’m supposed to work for God?"

Abigail shivered and her illusion snapped into place. "You know, I ask myself that question on a regular basis. Suffice it to say, that despite my past, I’ve chosen my own path. You, Ethan, need to do the same."

Ethan shook his head. "I don’t know. This is crazy."

"As crazy as the first day you moved things with your mind?"

He rubbed his shoulders and leaned against the wall.

"It must have been shocking the first time. How long have you had your gift?"

"A little over two years ago. I was seventeen."

Abigail leaned against the bricks beside him. "Was there a conflict, a stressful event that started it all? Someone close to you died or almost died?"

With a groan, Ethan pushed off the wall and returned to his seat on the beer crates. "Yeah, me."

Abigail raised her eyebrows.

"There was this guy, a guy I liked. I thought he was like me, gay, you know? But he wasn’t. And worse, he was pissed when he found out I thought he was." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Anyway, I guess he thought it would make him seem less gay if he beat the crap out of me. He did, you know, beat me to a pulp. Until something inside me snapped, and
boom
he was on his ass. I wasn’t sure I’d done it at first. The next morning though, I woke up at home, bloody and sore, and thirsty, really thirsty." He swallowed hard. "There was a cup of juice on the counter, probably my sister's. It slid right into my hand."

"And the rest is history," Abigail said, slightly bored. She needed to move this along. He wasn't safe here out in the open.

"Yeah. It took another two years before I could control it."

"Ethan, I think you should come with me now. I can take you where there are people like you that can teach you more about your gift. But we need to hurry. There are Watchers coming for you."

"Watchers?"

"Demons. Fallen angels. Baddies that go bump in the night. If they find you, they’ll kill you."

"Kill me? Why"

"To have one less Soulkeeper in the way when they invade our world." She paced the alley in front of him. "Oh, and because they’re hungry. They’re flesh eaters. If they find you, they’ll eat you." She smiled, allowing her teeth to transform into razor sharp fangs.

He hugged himself. "Do I have time to think about this?"

"Sure. But I don’t recommend we go back inside. It’s too easy to lose you in the crowd and my gut tells me we’re on borrowed time."

"They'll fire me. I’ll lose my apartment. There’s no way I can just leave."

"We have ways of helping with the practicalities." She waved her hand and a pool of vomit appeared at his feet. "You’ve become violently ill and need to go to the hospital." She handed him her phone.

He eyed the gadget in her hand and shook his head. "It will be better if I use my own." Pulling his phone from his pocket, he relayed the message, adding something about suspect shrimp dip in the backroom before ending the call.

"Interesting addendum about the shrimp dip."

"The key to telling a great lie is in the details."

She cocked her head to the side. "I have a feeling you and I are going to get along well."

Ethan nodded. "I need to stop at my apartment to pack."

"After you." Abigail motioned toward the end of the alley. She followed Ethan to his apartment, then ushered him into his new life.

Chapter 14

Mara and Henry

Mara pushed Necromancer forward, hoping that Henry would join her soon. She understood he had responsibilities. Even though he could be in more than one place at a time, sometimes he needed to stop to concentrate. He’d go into a trance-like state and that meant Mara needed to keep herself busy. But the In Between was a strange place to be alone.

Henry’s castle was a construct of his consciousness. She’d learned it was a replica of an actual castle he’d known of when he grew up in England. As she'd moved beyond the hills surrounding the castle, she'd left Henry’s head and that's when things got strange.

She’d shared in Gideon’s vision. It was odd to leave a British countryside and end up on an American main street in a matter of steps. Now, she crossed the plush green yard of an Italian villa. This was someone else’s construct and by the looks of it, someone powerful. Considering she wasn’t supposed to be here, she decided not to stop to say hello. She’d taken enough of a risk visiting Gideon.

Beyond the last rolling green hill, the grass turned to sand and the light from above put off an intense heat to match the desert landscape. Necromancer slowed, her hooves sinking uncomfortably in the sand. Mara tried to change the environment, to form a cloud over them for shade. But this was someone else’s handiwork. She couldn’t change it.