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Ethan stood across the desk from her, a deep V carved between his brows. “What’d I do?”
“Nothing.” She swallowed the bile that blistered her throat. “Is he gone?”
“Yeah. Off to get you a glass of water from the cafeteria.”
A shaky breath escaped. “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”
Ethan hesitated. “We’ll need to stay close. No way am I going to risk making this worse for you.”
“I can’t afford for things to get worse. We’ll just go across the street to The Daily Grind, talk there.”
“You’re not worried about being overheard?”
Absently working loose tendrils of hair into the topknot, Kennedy shook her head. “We’re regulars. I doubt anyone will pay us any attention.”
“Let’s go, then.” Ethan peered out into the hall before gesturing her forward.
They walked hand in hand through the lobby, out the front door and across the street. A rush of warm air brushed over them as they stepped inside the coffee shop favored by hospital staff. The smells of fresh bread, cinnamon and ground coffee beans swirled around them. Cashiers took orders and baristas called out names. Fire crackled in the fireplace. Conversation buzzed, giving the café a distinct hive feel.
Ethan pulled his wallet and handed her a few bills. “Get me my usual while I grab a sofa.” He took off, stalking the floor and looking for a group getting ready to bail. Kennedy watched him approach a couple packing their things. After a fast exchange, the couple left and Ethan flopped down on the leather seat. He sent her a thumbs-up and wide grin, making her smile absently in return.
“Lady, your order all ready?” The cashier, a small, short-tempered young woman cracked her gum as she waited on Kennedy to turn around.
“You’ll address me with respect,” Kennedy snarled.
The cashier popped her gum. “Your order, Your Highness.”
Peripheral vision diminishing, something foreign rose in her, shoving at her will. She raised a trembling hand to her temple and whispered, “Not right now.”
“Then step aside,” the cashier spat, leaning around Kennedy to motion forward the next person in line.
“Not you, you idiot.” The words were out before she could stop them. She lifted her gaze to the woman behind the counter and the woman gasped, stepping back a strong pace from the counter.
“I saw... I saw...” the woman sputtered.
“What? What did you see?” She ran her hands over her face, relieved to find nothing more than her own flesh and bone.
Still, the cashier kept backing away. She hit a rolling cart loaded with baked goods and sent it crashing into the wall. “Your eyes.”
Fear lashed Kennedy’s feet in place even as her pulse took flight. “Look, it was probably the light. Take my order and I’ll get out of your hair.” Kennedy’s gaze darted around the coffee shop. “I need two chocolate mocha lattes, heavy on the cream, topped with whipped cream, and two croissants, warmed, butter on the side.”
The cashier nodded and inched back to the register but still had to try three times to call the order as she rang it up.
Kennedy managed to pay without causing a scene, though the cashier refused to touch her when she handed over the money. Irrational anger flooded Kennedy. Who did the girl think she was to treat Kennedy like some type of pariah? She opened her mouth to demand an apology when the barista called her name. Spinning, she shouldered a stranger aside, grabbed the drinks and headed toward Ethan, desperation dogging her every step.
He’d understand. He’d help her get through this.
It seemed to take forever to reach him. Setting the cups on the little coffee table, she dropped onto the sofa and clutched her bag. The fine hairs on her neck stood up. Someone was watching her. She looked around but only saw curious glances in their direction. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Ethan grabbed his cup and blew across the lip. “What’s going on, Kennedy?”
“This stays between us.”
She could see a look of hurt tighten the corners of his eyes even as his brows drew down. “Always. It’s always been that way.”
“I know, I know.” She buried her face in her hands. “I just... I needed to say it this time. I need to hear the promise. Words have power.”
Ethan’s cup clattered against the saucer. “Where’d you get that last sentiment?”
“No idea.” She looked up. “Does it matter?”
“Depends. But I give you my solemn vow that I won’t repeat this conversation.” He watched her carefully, waiting for her to speak.
She let her attention drift to the fire. There was comfort in the blaze, something she’d never experienced before. Watching the gas flames as they rose and fell behind the fake logs seemed wrong, or inorganic at the very least.
Ethan broke her line of sight, and she shifted her attention back to him. Taking the cup he offered, she sipped. The drink was perfect, the bitterness of the coffee offsetting the sweet whipped cream and thick chocolate. Things like this made life seem better, even if only for the length of time it would take her to finish the drink.
“So spill it, Kennedy, and I’m not talking about the coffee.”
“Right.” She set the cup on the coffee table by her knee. “About six months ago, I started having blackouts. At first they were really rare but, as time passed, they became more frequent.” She waited for him to react, but he only nodded and gestured with his cup for her to continue. “Okay, so these blackouts have always been preceded by vision-reducing headaches.”
“How fast is onset?”
His clinical approach stopped the encroaching panic, forcing her to think past it and answer his questions. “It begins peripherally, narrowing to tunnel vision before I lose sight altogether. I retain the ability to hear for—I’m guessing—approximately two minutes. My heart rate accelerates, but I attribute it to stress. Something in me shifts, like I’m harboring a different...this sounds so crazy.” She shook her head and reached for her coffee cup, taking a scalding gulp.
“Don’t edit this, Kennedy. I need to know exactly what’s happening.” Ethan’s firm voice was more command than request.
“Look, this isn’t easy.” The heat from the cup seeped into her hands as she rolled it back and forth across her palms.
“Keep it clinical. If it’s unexplainable, just do your best.”
She snorted. “What, are you diagnosing me?”
“Consider this a free evaluation.” He bumped her knee with his. “Go on.”
Her voice dipped lower, and Ethan leaned in to listen. “When my hearing begins to fade, it’s as if my will is being superseded by something, and then that entity’s will pushes mine out of its way. I feel it, Ethan. I can tell my consciousness is being forced out of the way, but it’s unstoppable. My will is shoved aside, and then I’m gone. I wake up in the strangest places having done some of the most inappropriate things—dancing nearly topless on a bar top to ‘Tequila’ at a biker bar was my most recent fete.” She paused and looked up to gauge his reaction. When his face remained neutral, she let loose the craziest idea. “I don’t like light anymore. Darkness is more comfortable. I’ve even started living with my drapes closed all the time to avoid sunlight. I know it sounds crazy, but if I step into the shadows? It goes away. Ethan, I’ve got this creepy-ass feeling, like I’ve got some parasite sucking on me.”
He ran his fingers through his hair several times as he considered her. When he finally spoke, his voice was sharp, his words clipped. “You’re losing how much time per episode?”
Kennedy rolled her shoulders, trying to ignore the tension that had snuck back in. “It ranges. This last time was the worst. I lost days.” Her voice trembled and she hated it, hated that whatever was happening was breaking her. She chewed on her bottom lip and looked anywhere but at him. When he touched her knee, she startled and sloshed coffee over the rim of the cup. It coursed down both sides of her hand and she cursed out of habit, hurrying to set the cup down. Mid-motion, she froze and slid her gaze to Ethan. “It doesn’t burn.”
He reached for her hand, taking the cup from her and setting it down before examining her hand. Though slightly pink, the skin was neither burned nor blistered. Ethan looked at her, his face a blank mask. But behind it, she thought she saw both fear and awe.
Taking her hand back, she mopped up the mess the best she could. “What?” she finally demanded. “Why are you staring?”
“Just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
Kennedy kept scrubbing at the table though the mess was long gone. “What makes you think there’s another shoe?”
“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Kennedy.”
Pausing, she looked around the coffee shop. No one was paying them any attention. Dropping the napkins, she clasped her hands together and leaned forward. “I had a second episode Friday night. It’s never happened before. I was in the cab and then, next thing I know, I’m standing in the hallway on the fourth floor wondering what day it is—today.” She lowered her voice even more. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I have this...this knowledge that I’m going to...” She swallowed hard and jumped when he took her hands.
“That you’re going to what?” he asked, low and hard.
“I’m going to be responsible for a lot of death, Ethan. More than you can imagine.”
Chapter 3
Dylan discreetly followed the pair across the lobby and briefly held off following them outside. Not once were they out of his line of sight. They might believe he was as gullible as a spring lamb born yesterday, but he knew the man, Ethan, had been looking to ditch him by sending him for a glass of water for the woman. The woman. She wasn’t simply the woman to him, but rather the foretold woman. Kennedy Jefferson. The key to his survival lay somewhere within her. A hard shudder worked through him, and his fingertips burned. It was reactionary to clinch his hands in order to hide the show of magicks he couldn’t regulate. Simply the thought of her challenged his control. Irritating, that particular tell, and not a small one at that. Made him feel like a fool on a righteous errand.
He watched as the two slipped inside the coffee shop before he stepped outside in silent pursuit. He stood in a group of strangers and waited for the crosswalk sign to turn. A wave of subtle power struck him, faint and scentless. If it had held a smell, or even a flavor, he’d have been able to identify the element to which it was bound, but the wave retreated far too quickly for him to gain a good hold on it.
Dylan moved quickly, undoing his cufflinks and pocketing them. The dirks up his sleeves and the gun at his back needed to be accessible without interference or delay. He hesitated—actually hesitated—outside the little coffee shop. Reconciling assignments where a gods-be-damned woman was the target had always been the hardest for him. But Kennedy Jefferson proved a whole different level of difficult. She’d haunted him for 300 years. Memories so clear they could have been recent versus centuries old swamped him. The goddess Danu’s warning, issued in a dim Scottish cave three centuries ago, rolled about his mind. She had come to him and spoken of finding some immeasurable truth that would save not only mankind but the Druidic race, as well. To fail would result in the release of the imprisoned gods.
He’d pleaded with her, begged for more to go on than that. She’d considered him carefully before issuing him a name. “Begin seeking her in what will be a new world to you, Dylan, for she is the only one who holds the truth. You must find Kennedy Jefferson before all is lost. She has within her the single truth you must reveal and accept.” And then Danu had disappeared.
The light changed, the crowd jostling him hard enough to knock some sense into him. He had no business bandying about with memories no more tangible than fairy tales. Instead, he searched the glass-fronted shop, located his target and shifted directions, slipping down first one side of the building, then around the back and up the other. There were exits fore and aft, as well as a handful of tiny windows. He couldn’t watch them all. Shouldn’t have to, though. She had no idea who he was or why he was here, so she wouldn’t likely run. Not yet, anyway. Not unless Cailleach took the wheel, because that bitch had definitely recognized him.
Another brush of power skated over his skin with blades as sharp as knives. It had to be coming from the woman. No one else could harness that kind of power and keep it secreted, not from the men who’d done the background check on this mission. Hell, Dylan knew things about Kennedy Jefferson she’d likely hate—that her mother committed suicide when Kennedy was thirteen. That her father remarried when Kennedy was twenty-two and died of a massive heart attack last year, just days after her twenty-ninth birthday. That she’d been a combat medic in the army and went to college on the GI bill.
The only explanation for the power surge painted her as the source. Still, he needed confirmation. If someone with such undiluted strength had glommed on to her, the playing field had just changed.
Grabbing a newspaper, he pulled up a seat to one side of the shop’s entrance. He could see her standing in line. Perfect.
The electric doors to the café swished open. Scents of coffee, baked goods and humanity were strong enough to mask all but the closest magicks, elemental or otherwise. Damn it. He needed to get a bead on the type of magick being wielded. Too many smells to contend with here. He’d have to step inside.
In the time it took him to dump his paper and move to the door, the woman had taken up with her companion on a sofa near the fire. Dark head bent forward, her lips moved rapidly. Every now and again she’d glance up, considering the man’s response before carrying on. She looked over her shoulder once, gaze roaming the room. Those dark blue eyes stole his breath.
Kemp touched her leg and regained her attention before her gaze found Dylan. Too bluidy bad. He’d quite like to go ahead and call her out, to draw her out and end this here and now.
Dylan’s power leaked inexplicably, coiling loosely around him. Before he could tamp it down, her companion’s chin whipped up and turned toward him. Dark gray eyes were like storm-lashed seas, and Dylan knew for certain where the power he’d felt had come from. He could smell it now, the loam of damp earth, and knew only one brand of magick with such a distinctive scent. Warlock.
“Oh, son, ye’ve toyed with the wrong man,” Dylan whispered, nodding his head in acknowledgment.
Kennedy’s companion nodded back, never faltering. She must have misunderstood his movement as a suggestion to look to the doorway, because she stopped speaking midsentence and turned. Her mouth fell open.
He arched a brow at her and grinned, mouthing the words, “Your office. Now.”
Her mouthed response had him smiling even wider.
The doors slid open and he stepped outside to wait. Over the years, he’d learned to pay attention to his instinct, and right now? That instinct was screaming she was about to take flight. The thrill of the chase had his blood pumping through his veins and, for the second time since he’d landed in Atlanta, he found himself feeling alive. It didn’t slip his notice that both times he’d felt so invigorated, it involved the woman he’d just ordered to heel.
No, it didn’t slip his notice at all.
* * *
“Hell,” Ethan snarled, eyes focused somewhere behind her.
“What?” Kennedy turned in the direction of his stare. Her skin heated at the same time she broke out in goose bumps.
Dylan O’Shea smiled the darkest, most seductive smile she’d ever seen and mouthed three words. “Your office. Now.”
“Oh, shit,” she whispered.
“Kennedy? Look at me.” Ethan reached out and grabbed her arm after Dylan left the building. When he tugged, she turned to face him. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
She reached for her coffee cup, her hand shaking so badly she abandoned the effort. “I can’t just leave, Ethan. The cop obviously knows we skipped out. I can only avoid his questions so long before he hauls me in for a more formal sit-down.”
“I’m not screwing around.” His voice struck her like a lash and made her flinch. He grabbed her wrist and squeezed hard enough she gasped. “And he’s not a cop. Not even close.”
“What’s with you? You’re hurting me.” She yanked on his grip, but he didn’t let go. “And what do you mean he’s not a cop?”
“Sorry. Look, I recognize him. I should have realized it before now. I...” He let her go and ran both hands through his hair. “He’s dangerous, Kennedy. More dangerous than you can possibly imagine.”
A quick glance around proved the man had disappeared. The way she struggled to sit still, the feeling of eyes boring into her back, said he was watching them. “What’s going on?”
“Have to get to my car.” Ethan stood and scanned the coffee shop. “It’s the only chance.” He stood and yanked her to her feet.
“Hey!”
“Quiet,” he whispered, gaze darting around.
Tension wound its way up her spine in lazy spirals, tightening and strangling as it went. “You’re scaring me.”
“Yeah? Good. Better scared and alive than naive and dead.”
Dead. “You’ve gone over the edge. The guy said he’s a cop.” Dread followed tension’s weaving pattern up her back. “What if I hurt someone, Ethan? What if I did something horrible and that’s why he’s here?”
“He never once said he was a cop, Kennedy. We assumed. But he’s not. He’s a...the...not a cop. Forget it. I’ve got to get you out of here.” Arm around her shoulders, he steered her to the back of the coffee shop.
“Get me out of here?” she parroted.
Ignoring her, he stopped outside the restroom and glanced around. “Go inside. Lock the door, count to thirty and then shimmy out the window. Head to your car. I want you to drive a hundred miles east, then a hundred miles south. Make credit card purchases. Call in a hotel reservation somewhere in North Carolina, somewhere you could get to today. Buy a plane ticket somewhere across country, but don’t go to the airport. He’ll be watching. Probably your house, too.” He pulled his hair. “Then I want you to come back here and meet me at my house at nine tonight. It’ll give me time to figure out how to get you out of this.”
“This? This what? You’re acting crazier than me. Why in the world do I have to leave through the bathroom window?” She looked back. “He’s not even here.”
“Yeah, he is. Just because you can’t see him doesn’t mean I can’t sense him.”
“I’m going to lose it if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”
He pulled her to a stop outside the bathroom door. “I can’t. Not right now. Just...if you’ve ever trusted me, please do as I say. I’m going to redirect his attention, make him think I’m helping you out a different window. In the meantime, you crawl out this one and run. Get to your car and drive like the devil’s arrived and brought hell with him.”
Goose bumps stole over her skin and she shivered. “A little overdramatic, don’t you think?”
“No. I don’t.”
And with that, he pushed her into the bathroom and shut the door.
* * *
Kennedy stumbled into Ethan’s house a few minutes before nine, exhausted. Ethan had freaked her out. His fear had leeched straight through her, and she’d carried it with her everywhere she’d been today, from the outlet mall for clothes to the computer café to every gas station. That fear had eventually bled off, though, the adrenaline unsustainable. Now, wandering through his dark house, it was back. Tendrils wound around her legs like a thorny climbing rose. She wasn’t sure what to do. The sting of tears caught her off guard, and she blew out a hard breath.
“What’s happening to me?” she whispered in the darkness.
A hand clamped over her mouth tightly, and she was dragged back into a hard body.
She fought like a mad woman, biting, kicking, scratching—everything she’d learned in the army.
Just as she’d maneuvered to flip her assailant over her shoulder, he shouted, “Calm down!”
Nostrils alternately flaring and sucking almost closed as she struggled to get enough air, she stopped fighting.
“I’m letting you go.”
Hands slipped away and she spun, knee connecting with a denim-clad groin.
“Oompf!” Ethan doubled over and couldn’t contain the groan that escaped him. “Damn it, Kennedy. You just scrambled my eggs.”
Chest heaving, she took in the shadowy form of her best friend. “Damn you, Ethan! You leave me with directions to run and then return before shoving me into a freaking public restroom, show up here in the dark and finally, truly, scare the crap out of me. What’d you expect me to do? Say thanks?”
“Keep it down.” He propped his hands on his knees and slowly worked his way to standing.
She rubbed her lips, tasting blood. Mine or his? Spinning on her heel, she stalked into the kitchen, leaning against the counter. “I decided I’m not doing this, going along with your apparent he’s dangerous theory just because I trust you. And I do. Trust you, that is. It’s just...
“This is out of control, Ethan. Climbing out public bathroom windows and dodging Dumpsters and one very large rat to get to my car isn’t reasonable. I’m bruised, scraped up and scared. Living like this isn’t an option. Personnel made it clear last time I missed work that my job was in jeopardy. After this latest stunt? No way. It’ll cost me, and being the director of nursing is who I am, Ethan. I’m not willing to give that up.”
He stepped close and wrapped her in his arms, the hug tight and long. “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too, though I’m still not exactly sure what happened.” She tilted her head back and he kissed her on the forehead. “Thanks.”
“You’re my girl. How else would I greet you?”
“Want a beer?” She opened the fridge and retrieved a bottle, offering it over her shoulder.
“Nope. I’m driving.”
She twisted the top off the bottle and took a long pull, the hoppy flavor making her taste buds curl a little, before turning toward Ethan with slow deliberation. “Driving?”
“We’re getting out of here.”
“Clearly, you didn’t hear me. I’m not going anywhere.”
Ignoring her, he spun away and, wraith-like, slipped through the dark house.
She rolled her shoulders and leaned a hip against the counter. It took a minute for her to gather her wits about her before following him down the hall and into his bedroom. When she reached for the light, he grabbed her wrist.
“Lights need to stay out.”
“What? Why?”
“I would imagine we’re okay, but I don’t want to tempt the Fates. The, uh, guy from earlier could be around,” he muttered.
“The cop that’s apparently not a cop.” She considered him carefully. “You realize that every word out of your mouth makes you sound like you’re the one in need of the psych eval, right?”
The ensuing silence said volumes. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, hard in a way she’d never heard it before. “You’ll owe me an apology when this is all said and done.”
She knew she should say something to smooth ruffled feathers, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead, she carefully lowered herself to the floor and sipped her beer, watching as he packed a small bag.
“You have no idea how much trouble you’re in. Why is this guy gunning for you? What have you done?”
She coughed and sputtered, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Gunning for me? You make me sound like I’m an animal and it’s open season. And as for what I’ve done? That would be a big, fat nothing. Not that I remember.”
Ethan shifted. A slight split in the curtains let in the glow from the streetlight and made his gray eyes appear nearly lifeless. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into with him.”
“Then explain it to me.” Derision dripped from each word, and while she wasn’t proud of herself, she really feared Ethan had experienced some kind of mental break.