Seer (The Seeker Series Book 3) (15 page)

He helped me prepare dinner, taking over the sauce creation, claiming that he had a secret recipe that would cause us to swoon. He probably just didn’t trust me to produce anything edible.

“But you’re French. How is it that you have an amazing recipe for Italian spaghetti sauce?”

He scoffed and gave me a disparaging look. “Maybe because I can read a recipe book. The French prepare everything better than you Americans.”

“Don’t be such a snob, Rémy. Drenching everything in butter doesn’t qualify as better cooking. But I am looking forward to your sauce. Mine comes straight out of a jar.” I began washing and chopping vegetables for a salad.

“Luc was waiting for me when I walked out of class today,” he said as he measured oregano into the pot of sauce.

“And?” I prompted.

“I was civil, at least somewhat. We went for coffee and I listened to what he had to say.”

“Which was?”

“More of the same.” He shrugged. “Seers should rise up and take control, we should be running the world, blah, blah, blah.”

“Did you just say ‘blah, blah, blah?” I laughed.

“Ah, oui. I’ve clearly been in America too long. All the wrong things are rubbing off on me. Are you going to keep interrupting?”

“Sorry, Mr. Grumpy Pants. Continue. You left off at ‘blah, blah, blah.’”

He rolled his eyes. “So, after I listened to him rant for a while, I told him he was still crazy and could go to hell. Do you have any wine?”

“For you or for the sauce?” I asked.

“For both. One should never cook without a glass of wine,” he said, stirring the sauce.

“Is that an old French proverb?” I asked slyly, going to the pantry for the bottle of wine he had given me as a housewarming gift last year.

“It should be.” He chuckled. “I can’t believe you still have this. It’s a really nice merlot. Why didn’t you drink it?” He fished around in my junk drawer for the corkscrew he had also given me.

“You do know the drinking age is 21 in America, don’t you?”

“It’s not my fault you live in a nation of puritanical hypocrites. I am trying to educate you, that’s all.” He opened the wine, poured a glass for himself, added a few glugs to the sauce, and then handed me a glass. “Here. Tell me what you taste.”

I took a small sip and kept it on my tongue as he had taught me. “Umm, blackberry,” I said after I swallowed. “And cocoa. It’s good. Thanks.”

He flashed his signature smirk and took a sip before going back to stirring and tasting the sauce.

“What do you think it means, Rémy? That Luc showed up here? What do you think he wants?”

“I’m not sure. I thought maybe he had gotten over his crazy ideas about Seers being in control, but it doesn’t appear that way now. This worries me, chérie.”

“Me too. I don’t like Luc. He scares me,” I admitted quietly.

“Oh, Ally,” Rémy set down his wine and came across the kitchen to hug me. “He can’t hurt us, chérie. I won’t let him. I promise.”

Mina came in just then. “Oh, I’m sorry. Excuse me.” She started to back out.

Rémy’s reaction shocked me. “Where in the hell have you been?” he yelled, dropping his arms from around me and advancing toward her, grasping her upper arms and shaking her slightly. “I have been trying to get in touch with you all afternoon! You didn’t answer your phone and you closed your mind off from me completely!”

Mina squared her jaw and faced him. “I was at work,” she said calmly, brushing his hands off. “I didn’t have my mobile on me.” I noticed that she did not address why she had closed her mind to him; he didn’t follow up on it.

“Did Luc come to see you?” he asked.

“Luc? From Rouen?”

He nodded. “He came to see both Ally and me today.”

“Why? What did he want?”

I broke in. “It was more of his crazy ‘Seers should be in control of the whole world’ rant from last summer. It creeped me out.”

“I haven’t seen him,” she said. “This is very odd. Why, after all this time, would he come here?”

“I very much fear that he did not give up on his idea. In fact, I believe he has simply been biding his time until he was ready,” Rémy said.

“Ready for what?” I asked, not sure if I wanted the answer.

“I do not know.” He shook his head. “But I fear he has something planned. Something we will not like.”

Tara came in a few minutes later, full of news about her day and oblivious to the undercurrents in the kitchen. She took the glass of wine from me and sipped. “Mmmm. Hell, yeah. This is great. What’s for dinner? It smells amazing.” None of us mentioned Luc’s mysterious appearance to her.

I finished making the salad, Mina slathered the loaf of French bread I had bought with butter and garlic salt, and Tara set the table. Rémy was right about his sauce: it was swoon-worthy. I pretended that it was merely acceptable, though; his ego was big enough. In spite of the upset of the day, we managed to have a relaxing evening, finishing the bottle of wine and talking about anything except what Luc had said. I noticed the increased tension between Mina and Rémy did not totally abate throughout the evening, however. They spoke to the others around them, but never directly to each other. Once, when they reached for the salad at the same time, their hands touched and they both jerked away as if they had been burned. Hmmm. Very, very interesting.

***

I
showed up to my midmorning Victorian lit class to find a cancellation note on the door. Yes! It was nice to have an unexpected break. We were currently reading Christina Rossetti’s
The
Goblin Market
, which was an amazing poem and not really about goblins at all. May I just say the Victorians were obsessed with sex? Nevertheless, I was happy to forego class for the day. The past few weeks had been stressful, with a heavy work schedule, unremitting homework, and the worry over Luc’s unexpected visit hanging over my head. I headed back to the Student Union Building, planning to enjoy a latte and maybe a bagel since I had skipped breakfast. I approached the bigger-than-life bronze sculptures in front of the SUB but stopped short when I saw Jack talking to a guy I didn’t know. He laughed at something the guy said and I paused to enjoy the sight. Jack was a pretty serious guy most of the time and I loved to see him laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling in an attractive manner. He wore jeans and a dark blue, long-sleeved Henley that stretched across his broad shoulders. He had pushed the sleeves up to his elbows, which showcased his chiseled, brown forearms, the left one with the compass tattoo. He wore a red baseball cap perched backwards on his head and he hadn’t shaved that morning, his jaw scruffy with his black whiskers. I bit my lip in appreciation. And he was mine. He was, thankfully, oblivious to the admiring looks from some of the nearby girls. I smiled, because simply looking at him made me happy. I sauntered over to him, standing at his elbow, not wanting to interrupt.

He saw the guy notice me and looked down. “Hey, beautiful! What are you doing here? I thought you had class right now?” He leaned down to give me a quick kiss.

“Cancelled. I’m free for a whole hour. What about you?”

“This day just got better. I’m free for a couple of hours. Oh, this is Rick. He’s in a couple of my engineering classes. Rick, this is my girlfriend, Ally.” I still got a thrill when he called me his girlfriend. “You want to grab some coffee or something?”

“Sure, but I don’t want to interrupt.”

“No problem. See you, Rick.” He waved and steered me away.

“I didn’t mean to drag you away from your friend, Jack,” I began.

“Don’t worry about it. I would much rather spend time with you. Besides, I didn’t like how he looked at you.”

“Oh, really? And how did he look at me?” I asked, amused at his jealousy.

“He was definitely leering. All guys do when they look at you.” He sounded so nonchalant when he said this I had to laugh.

We entered the SUB food court area and stepped up to the counter at the gourmet coffee stand. Once we had our coffee and bagels, we found an empty table in the quieter area tucked behind the coffee stand.

“You look great today, querida. I love it when you wear those boots,” he said as he took a sip of his drink.

“Really? I didn’t know that. I will be sure to feature them more regularly in my wardrobe choices,” I teased.

“Mmmm. They already feature prominently in several of my fantasies about you. I don’t know if I can take any more,” he teased back.

“Fantasies? Ooh, that sounds promising. Are you going to tell me about these fantasies? I would love to know.”

“Definitely not.” I could swear he blushed although it was hard to tell with his dark complexion. “Is it hot in here?”

I laughed and put my hand over his. “I’m just glad to know you have fantasies about me. Do you want to hear some of mine about you?”

He choked on his coffee and coughed. “Are you trying to kill me, Ally?” He leaned across the table, pulling me slightly to meet him. “I have incredible fantasies about you. Someday, I’m going to act on them. But not today.” He kissed me sweetly.

“Hey, lovebirds!” Tara interrupted, plopping down uninvited and unwanted at the moment. “So, there I was, sitting in my bio-chem class, minding my own business, doing today’s Sudoku puzzle, when I saw this.” She slapped a copy of the
Daily Lobo
, our university newspaper, down between us, open to the personal ads, one circled in red.

To the flame-haired girl in Zimmerman Library Tuesday night: your beauty lit up the study carrels on the 4
th
floor.
Très très beau. Your taste in literature is exquisite. “
Like a vessel at the launch/ When its last restraint is gone.”

I had to read it three times before it sunk in. “Oh, my God. I think it’s me. I mean, I think it’s referring to me. I was at the library that night. That’s where I like to sit—”

“Yes, of course it means you!” Tara interjected.

“What the fu—” Jack grabbed the paper and read it again. “How could it be Ally?”

“Thanks a lot!” I objected.

‘No, I didn’t mean…there are nearly 25,000 students here. How could it be…shit! This is you.”

“Ally’s got a secret admirer!” Tara taunted. “That is so romantic!”

“It’s not romantic! It’s creepy, that’s what it is. I don’t want someone creeping around, watching my girlfriend, and putting personal ads in the goddamn paper!” Jack nearly shouted, causing people at the tables next to us to stare.

“Hey, shh,” I soothed, placing my hand on his arm. “I’m sure it’s nothing. It’s kind of weird, yeah, but…” I let the sentence fade away.

“Is this French?” Jack demanded, pointing at the ad. “Did Rémy do this? I’ll kill him!”

“No way.” Tara shook her head. “This is totally not his style. What do you think that last line means? ‘Like a vessel at the launch/When its last restraint is gone’?”

“It’s from
The Goblin Market.
It’s the poem I was studying that night in the library. I had gone there to work on my literary analysis paper.”

“So? Why would they include that line? What does it mean?” Tara asked.

“I don’t know. I mean…” I frowned, confused by why the quote had been included.

“What, Ally? What is it?” Jack asked, his jaw flexing as he tried to control his anger.

I hated to make it worse, but knew he wouldn’t let it go. “It’s just that
The Goblin Market
seems like a children’s poem and Christina Rossetti swore that it was. But it has a lot of thinly veiled eroticism in it. If you read that line with that in mind—”

“Son of a bitch!” Jack hissed.

“Eww, that is kind of creepy,” Tara agreed. “And if you consider that whoever it was had to be close enough to see what you were reading. Shit, girl. I think you have a stalker.”

Jack cursed again under his breath.

“Do you think this could be the same person that’s following me?” I asked in a small voice. My stomach sank when I saw Jack and Tara exchange a quick look: nobody but me had ever seen so much as a glimpse of anyone following me. I knew my friends thought I was imagining everything because of the stress I was under trying to figure out if I was the next Oracle. “Well, I didn’t imagine this!” I said hotly, gesturing to the newspaper on the table between us.

Tara wouldn’t meet my eyes, but Jack shifted closer to me, bringing my hand up to his mouth, kissing my clenched fist. “Hey,” he said softly. He lowered my hand and engulfed it between his large, warm ones. “I’m sorry. That was not cool. I believe you.” At my disbelieving look he rephrased. “Okay, I’m trying to believe you. I really am. I love you, Ally, and I hate the thought that someone is sneaking around watching you. I really hate the thought that there might be two people doing it.”

“I’m sorry, too, Ally,” Tara added. “I just don’t want to believe that you’re being stalked. I really, really hope you’re wrong.”

I nodded, agreeing with both of them. “What am I going to do, Jack?” I whispered.

“
We
, sweetheart. You’re not in this alone. I’m going to help you figure this out.”