Surrender (THE DRAGONFLY CHRONICLES) (10 page)

Chapter Six

Both Henry and Jackson leapt into action while Tuto swooped down to investigate. Samantha screamed, her gloves flailing around her head. Blue-and-green peacock feathers, adorning her large hat, smoked with sudden flame, crowning her with a blazing ring of fire. A haloed angel sent straight from Lucifer himself.

Instead of whipping off the hat first, Henry grabbed a large pitcher of water from a nearby table and sloshed it over the inferno of Samantha’s hat. She screamed again, not from fear or pain but from the slap of cold water which then coursed into her face, darkening a trail down her silk bodice. Jackson then grabbed the still smoldering hat and stamped out the flames. He returned to Kailin’s side quickly and rested his hand on her shoulder.

Shock warred with amusement over the handsome features, but worry also pinched at his forehead. She turned away. What must he think of her? Her stomach sank down and she wanted nothing more than to run to her balcony alone. But she couldn’t, not now with Samantha’s hysterical shrieking and the whole veranda and half the lobby crowding around to poke their gossipy noses into the whole horrible mess.

Kailin handed her a napkin. Samantha snatched it from her fingers and dabbed at her face while Henry grabbed more napkins. He apologized profusely while patting ineffectually at her dress and doused curls.

“Leave it!” Samantha huffed. Henry removed his jacket and draped it around her shoulders.

She glared at Kailin, blame evident in her eyes, making them almost look like the slits of a venomous serpent. Kailin burned with embarrassment and hoped Jackson wouldn’t remove his hand. “You did this,” Samantha hissed low. “Again!”

“I dumped the water,” Henry offered, trying to milk the venom from Samantha’s words. “I am so sorry, Samantha. Do not blame Miss Whitaker for my foolishness.”

Samantha continued to snap silent darts at Kailin. Kailin sighed. “It seems we are destined to be disagreeable together, Samantha. For that I am truly sorry.”

Samantha shook her dripping head. “Take me home, Henry,” she seethed and turned on her heels. Her shoes squished as she walked to the steps leading down. The charred, drowned hat sat in its ring on the stone patio. The harried waiter picked it up with pinched fingers as if it were a dead bird and threw it off the far side of the balcony to land in an alley. The whispering patrons began to filter away and Jackson found his seat.

He took a bite of fish while Kailin stared down at her hands on the table. “Well,” he drawled after a moment, “that was interesting.”

Kailin released a half-sigh, half-groan and her shoulders sank. She let the chair hold her form, the only thing to prevent her from crumpling to the ground. The pressure of tears built behind her eyes but she fought to keep them inside. She closed them. “You asked me, Mr. Black, what would happen if I released the chains holding me.”

He didn’t say anything and she glanced up. He stared over his glass of wine as he sipped. Just watching. There was no judgment in his eyes, no condemnation. But she didn’t need his disapproval to revile herself. She forged small trails with her fingertip through the scattered tea leaves still on the tabletop. “As you can see, I don’t make many friends.” She tried to keep the pity out of her voice but the words themselves sounded pitiful. She shook her head and forced a smile to hitch up the corners of her lips.

He set the glass down and leaned in. He let out a soft huff. “Samantha McGivens is no friend to anyone I figure. Not unless there is something advantageous in it for her.”

Kailin drew in a thin breath as the sharp ache in her chest subsided slightly. She nodded.

A slow smile spread across Jackson’s face. “Tell me. Miss McGivens said, ‘again. You did this, again.’” His rough voice made a poor imitation of Samantha’s screech, but the words were the same. Laughter danced in his eyes as he lifted his brows expecting an explanation.

Kailin shook her head. She looked into Jackson’s curious gaze for a long moment, deciding. He’d seen her at her worst tonight and hadn’t run away. Yet. Kailin took a long, slow breath and exhaled. “The last time I was here”—she glanced from side to side and lowered her voice—“well…I set her on fire. I threw several glasses of punch on her to put it out before it could do permanent damage. She was once more a victim of my lack of control.”

Kailin met his gaze evenly, waiting. Jackson stared and then with a huge exhale he laughed, laughed loud long chuckles that caused a blip of a giggle to escape Kailin.
Terrible!
It must be the wine. Kailin held fingers against her lips to prevent any more merriment to escape at Samantha’s expense.

“Now stop,” she reprimanded. “No one deserves to be lit on fire.” Jackson laughed all the harder, his chair tipping back onto two legs. His face was open with rugged charm. He lifted his arms overhead to clasp his fingers. The muscles bunched against his coat sleeves. Kailin swallowed another giggle and tore her eyes away from his amazing frame before her face heated again.

“I’d argue that statement,” Jackson said, sobering. “However, then you’d probably feel the need to defend the woman.” He looked at Kailin intensely. She glanced up.

“What?” she asked.

“You certainly don’t have an easy time of it, do you,
Atsila
.”

She frowned at his remark that hit way too close to truth. “A…chee…la?”

One corner of Jackson’s lips quirked up in a lopsided grin. “It means little fire.”

“Not in Arabic.”

He shook his head so that his longish hair skimmed just high of his broad shoulders. “Cherokee.”

“As in Indian?”

He nodded. “West of Missouri territory.”

She straightened in her seat, brushing the tea leaves back into the cup. “I don’t need a nickname, Mr. Black. And I certainly don’t need your pity.”

“Oh are we back to that then?”

She opened her mouth to retort, but closed it, suddenly very weary. Capturing her renegade powers had cost her quite a bit of energy. She pushed upward slowly. Jackson followed. Despite his cowboy manners, he apparently knew basic etiquette. “I think I should find my room for the night.”

“I will talk to the manager.”

Kailin waved her hand. If they hadn’t fixed the door yet, she’d do it herself if she could have a moment of privacy in the hall. “My current room will do.”

“The door—”

“Easily mended,” she remarked and Jackson’s face hardened for a brief moment. He followed her from the veranda.

“You really don’t need anyone, do you?” he asked as they stepped up the sweeping carpeted staircase.

“Everyone needs someone,” she murmured and glanced beside her where he climbed. “For instance, you can crawl underground.”

He nodded. “A rare talent indeed.”

Her lips turned up in a tired grin. “And as far as I can tell, you aren’t flammable.”

****

Jackson woke to predawn darkness, his muscles tense. What had woken him? Forcing even breath, he waited, unmoving on the small bed.

“Blasted cowboy,” came a whisper from the shadows. “Wake!” the voice insisted. He didn’t even twitch at the spirit woman’s command. What did she want? And how could he gain the upper hand when dealing with someone as uncatchable as this ghost? Something like a pebble pelted the quilt he lay atop. Still he resisted the reflex of his muscles, ready to bunch up, ready to fight. A faint buzz tickled along his bare legs. He cracked his eyes the tiniest line to see the iridescent wings of dragonflies flittering around him.

The apparition floated close and he let his lids shut again, breathing evenly.
“Cac!”
the spirit woman cursed. He didn’t know what it meant except that it was obviously a curse. “Open your eyes!”

“Why?” his deep voice shot into the darkness as his eyes snapped open. He rolled off the bed in a smooth release of muscle and pent power.

The spirit gasped, dissolving into an iridescent shade of white smoke that faded like vapor. Within a heartbeat she was back. “You play games, warrior,” she chastised. “While Kailin roams the dark streets alone.”

“Bloody hell,” Jackson swore and slammed legs into trousers and feet into boots. He should have slept outside her door. “Where the hell is she?” He grabbed his gun belt from beside the bed and his shirt. He was out the door only half dressed, jogging down the silent, dark corridor.

The crone floated along at his pace. “A street to the west. The owl follows her.”

“Where is she headed?”

“I’m not certain. Her mind is closed to me.”

Jackson heard annoyance in the spirit’s voice. A round of questions bombarded his mind only to dissolve as his thoughts came to focus on only one thing. Kailin. The woman looked for trouble. She refused any type of help. And yes, she had power, magical power, more so than any he’d encountered in his decade of digging in the most magical and cursed tombs on Earth. But so far her power seemed to be more trouble to her than helpful.

“Her magic is great if it keeps you out,” he said and wondered if the apparition could read his thoughts. Jackson leapt down the steps into the sleepy avenue. Only a handful of people braved the streets near the docks in the pre-light of day. Two drunkards dragging themselves home. A prostitute walking quickly, only too aware that the shadows were dangerous. He snorted. Apparently she was smarter than Kailin.

“Her magic is wild,” the crone said. “I can teach her to harness it. I taught her mother.”

A shadow elongated into a man, half hidden on the stoop. Jackson pulled his gun, his hand wrapping around its familiar weight, the metal and smooth wood fitting into his palm. Smoke encircled the man’s bearded face, a turban wrapped upon his head. Would the US hire locals to follow Kailin? He kept his eyes on the man as he passed, but he didn’t make a move. Could his own government be watching him? Making sure he completed his mission? The idea cinched the twisting inside him even tighter, and he again glanced at the crone floating beside him. If she could read his mind…

Overhead, the black wingspan of an owl sliced noiselessly through the lightening sky. Tuto scouted the narrow street. Kailin must be close. With the black turning to gray, Jackson could make out boot tracks in the thin layer of sand and dirt, boot tracks much too small to be that of a man. He turned a corner and stopped.

Kailin. She stood tall, her arms out to the side, straight and proud while a man held her wrists. Fury gushed inside Jackson. The cocking of his gun echoed in the stark silence. “Release her.” His calm words ground out like the gravely scrape of a sarcophagus lid.

The man dropped his arms and backed away from Kailin. “I…I not hurt Miss. Me friend”—he bobbed his head like a frightened bird—“to Miss Whitaker.”

Kailin turned, a pale shirt held before her. “Jackson?” Kailin’s eyes moved to the crone who hovered with hands on her hips. Tuto landed on the top of the awning outside what looked like a small home that doubled as a shop. The man jumped, his eyes bulging out under the great owl’s predatory stare. He babbled in Arabic. He didn’t seem to see the apparition.

Jackson lowered his gun. “What are you doing?”

Her eyes relaxed from their surprised gaze. “I’m buying supplies.” She shook the piece of clothing and he could tell it was made of thicker, sturdy material for expedition. “I packed light, expecting to purchase supplies here.”

The crone huffed behind him and Jackson’s relief at finding Kailin unabused turned to anger. “So you came out in the dark, alone?”

Kailin picked up a gown laid across a barrel and draped it over one arm, standing tall before him. Her eyes shifted only slightly to the alcoves lining the thin street. “What do I have to fear?” she said softly.

Jackson stared at her, at her irritation. “You…” He shook his head. “You were hoping they’d take you. The kidnappers.”

Kailin didn’t nod but her eyebrows rose slightly as she held out the gown and turned, dismissing him. “It would save a lot of time and trouble.”

Jackson re-holstered his Remington. He stepped closer, pushing the awareness of Kailin’s light floral scent from his consciousness. “You don’t have control.” He touched her hand and she stilled. “What if there is someone else who mutes your power,” he whispered.

Kailin turned to him, her face stone. “There’s only one of you.”

Jackson blinked, his head tipping to the side slightly. “How do you know that?”

Kailin’s gaze flashed to the spirit woman still hovering nearby, but she didn’t answer. Her gaze reconnected with his. They narrowed. “So as long as you stay away from me, I’ll be fine.” She yanked her hand away.

Jackson snorted and stepped back, crossing his arms. He was the one who should be angry, he reminded himself. He’s the one who constantly had to watch out for a woman who continuously put herself in jeopardy despite the magic she possessed. Wild magic only he seemed to be able to save the world from.

“Doctor Kailin Whitaker,” he said. “For a woman as smart as you supposedly are, I’m sadly surprised by your foolishness.” That got her attention. She turned sharp eyes on him.

“Let me guess. Your plan is to go into their nest, knock them around, and pull your father out.”

She blinked, an obvious tell that he’d guessed right. “So what happens next?” He stepped close to her so that the front of her skirts brushed his legs. “They will know you have powers greater than they could imagine, powers they will want to use. That is unless you kill them all.” He left the threat hanging.

Kailin cleared her throat. “Killing is not in my nature.”

“Lucky for the world.”

Her face began to redden and he touched her shoulder. “If you follow this rash plan of yours, you will become the next target, the next prize, a weapon to be used. They will take your father again since it is obvious you love him, maybe even that manservant back in England. They will use you under threat of them coming to harm.”

“I can keep them safe,” she murmured but Jackson smelled victory.

“So you will force these two proud men to hide behind your skirts for the rest of their lives. Anthony won’t be able to dig and discover any longer. They will have to stay holed up near you until these men figure out a way to get to them to get to you. And I am guessing that Anthony won’t let that happen, probably not that Bruce fellow either.” His teeth came nearly together as he spoke the last words. “You will lose them both, and you will be alone.”