Between the Waters (Symphony of Light) (20 page)

The man on the end with the handlebar mustache asked, “You need any help with that.”

I faked a laugh. “No, I’m fine.”

The bald man next to him with chains hanging from his pockets and an American flag bandana wrapped around his head widened his stance. “Let’s just be honest. That’s not your husband, and there’s only one reason you’d be out here with a man who drives a car like that.” He reached down and adjusted his jean-clad crotch. “How much you charge?”

“What?”

“I’ll let you sit on my face for free.” The one with the handle bar mustache said as he twirled the ends of his ’stache.

“Thanks for the offer, but I have to be going.”

“Maybe if you see what you’ll be missing…” The biggest one, who reminded me of a professional wrestler, unzipped his pants.

“Go home. You’re drunk.” I struggled to free my hand from my hair.

I was about to return to the car, when from around the side of the bar the man in blue overalls emerged. Shit!

He stopped just before bumping into Handlebar. “Excuse me, have you seen—” His brow furrowed as he looked me up and down. I wasn’t sure if was the shifting residue or my familiar attire that gave me away. “S-stop her!”

The biggest wrestler biker with his unbuttoned pants stepped up to overall man and puffed out his chest, “I called dibs. You’re gonna have to wait your turn.”

I slammed Clarence’s door shut, thankful he had managed to climb in the car.

As I made my way to the driver’s door, the other bikers surrounded the man.

Overalls wasn’t the least bit intimidated. He tried to push past the men, but they shoved and pushed. One yelled, “You ain’t got no business being here.”

I slipped into the driver’s seat. My pants had hardened around the keys and required a good yank to dislodge. Never thought I’d be so thankful for a bunch of drunken, horny bikers, but they were just the distraction I needed. Squealing tires sent them all looking in my direction.

I had driven almost a mile before I checked on Clarence in the rearview mirror. He was covered in a thin film of slime.

“So, Beasty, how was it?”

He groaned. “I feel like I took a ride in a blender. No one told me it would hurt like a bitch.”

“I didn’t know if it would for you, but apparently so.”

“What is this shit?” He picked off a few flakes.

I laughed, remembering how Cyril called it excrement, once upon a time. “It’s shifting residue. The good news is that it’s water-soluble, so a long soak in a bath and you’ll be good as new.

“Can you toss me my clothes? I don’t want you getting too accustomed to stealing glances of my junk.”

I rolled my eyes, but he couldn’t see. “I forgot them.”

“What kind of supernatural badass forgets a man’s clothes? Or is it now that you’ve had a peek, you can’t get enough?” He wiggled in his seat. “Fuck, that hurts.”

Another glance in the rearview. “Why don’t you try to take a nap?”

“What about you? I saw you change into another person. Which is fucked up, by the way. How can you drive? Just thinking about wrapping my fingers around a steering wheel makes me want to cry.”

“I don’t know why it doesn’t hurt as much this time. It’s far from pleasant, but nothing like last time.” Clarence sat with his arms crossed and his eyes closed.

“Far from pleasant? I feel like my nuts were relocated to a different state but I wasn’t invited to join them.”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s like losing your virginity.”

“Well, consider my cherry popped.”

“So how was it? You know…being the beast?”

“If I can ever learn to do it on command, it will be really cool. This shit covering me is going to be an issue. My hearing is better, my sense of smell is off the charts, and I can still understand you.” He yawned.

I slowed down and slipped my arms one by one out of the coat and tossed in the back seat. “Take this. Wrap it around your waist. I’ll wake you when we get home.”

Chapter Fifteen

Celebration

Overton’s fingers grazed the skin on my back as he raised the zipper on the Tiffany blue dress. The kiss he placed on my neck caused me to shiver.

“You don’t have to do this. I’m sure if Thor spies on him long enough, he’d get the information we need.” He looped his arms around my waist, clasping his hands across my stomach. “Will you reconsider?”

“What are you afraid of?”

“I just don’t trust him. I mean, Moreaux is a good enough guy, but Lafavre is always there waiting to take hold of him.”

“But he said he hasn’t felt Lafavre’s influence since the bond.”

“Maybe so, but I’ve seen what he’s capable of. Unspeakable horrors against women, and we don’t know Moreaux’s involvement with the compound.” He looped the strand of dark crimson beads around my neck. “Speaking of your little expedition, unless you want me to solicit Sinclair’s expertise in knot tying, you’ll stop putting yourself in danger.”

“If Moreaux wanted to do something, he would have when I met him for lunch. Other than the pin and the fact that Mary spent time with him recently, we have no reason to suspect him.” I turned to face him.

“I’m only partially joking. What do I need to do to protect you?”

With my thumb, I fiddled with the ring that would someday set him free, but not today. “Nothing. You can’t.” How could I tell him that he was more dangerous to me than any enemy? With him I risked it all—my heart, humanity’s future.

His brow furrowed. “Don’t think I won’t resort to brutish tactics if you continue with your foolishness.”

“Are you threatening me, Dr. Stanton?”

He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “No, love, I’m promising.”

That devilish side of me wanted to test him to see just how far he’d go.

He grabbed both my hands, backed up a step, and stared. “You are stunning.”

I slipped my foot into the silver heels and stumbled. He caught me.

“Are you sure you can’t tell him you’re sick or something?”

I righted myself and stood, ensuring my footing was firm. I narrowed my eyes. “Is it my safety you’re worried about or are you jealous?”

“Yes. And yes. Look at you.” He leaned back and perused my body from head to foot.

I kissed him. “Everything will be fine. I promise I’ll behave.” At least during the celebration. I refused to think about my other plans. I’d only allow myself to suffer when it was truly necessary. I grabbed him by the hand. “Come on, we don’t want to be late.”

* * *

I wasn’t sure what to expect. Having been so distracted over the past several months and with Clarence’s recent absence, I wasn’t exactly sure who was running things at the symphony, but as usual the Cultural District out did itself.

It was still cold but tolerable. Tiny flakes drifted from the sky, adding to the atmosphere, but not obscuring the thousands of twinkling lights and lanterns that decorated the Glass Castle courtyard. Once an industrial skyscraper for a prominent glass company, the impressive structure had been repurposed into luxury apartments, high-end shops, small theaters, and art galleries. It was the Cultural District’s recent claim to fame. What better place to hold the centennial celebration of both the city’s world-renowned orchestra and cultural society.

It was rumored that celebrities from all around the world were invited to hobnob and perform for the anticipated event. But one of the main purposes for my presence, beyond pumping Moreaux for information, was to accept the lot of antique instruments on behalf of the symphony. Moreaux’s gifts, most likely given to win me over, were priceless and were a most prized treasure. Had the society known the instruments were gifted by the composer who originally owned them, they would have been even more astonished.

Laughing children didn’t occupy the rink featured in the innermost courtyard. Today professional figure skaters danced across the ice, mesmerizing the onlookers. Men dressed in ornate masquerade masks of blue and silver and long black robes served drinks on silver sparkling trays. The same masks hung from lampposts and corners of the stage linked together with beads and shimmery garland. The setting was breathtaking.

Beyond the elegant decor was the intense power pulsing under the surface. Situated at the convergence of three rivers and the intersection of not two but four ley lines, the energy all but crackled in the air. It was amazing the other people could not see or feel it.

Overton grabbed my elbow. “I don’t see him.”

“It’s OK. We have plenty of time.” I turned to look at him and took in a sight that completely overshadowed the beauty of the festivity. All of Cyril’s men, dressed in tuxedos and dress coats, lined up behind me. I couldn’t help but stare at how stunningly handsome they were, including Clarence. Clarence?

“What in the hell are you doing bringing him here?” I lowered my voice. “He could shift at any moment.”

“Calm down, sweet stuff. We’re not letting him out of our sight. Besides, Sinclair brought a muzzle, so all’s good.”

Clarence pushed past him to stand by me, but faced the other men, outraged. “He brought what?”

Sinclair reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a leather mask that looked like something Hannibal Lector might wear to a kinky sex party. “Oops, sorry, wrong one. I’ll save that for if Linden ever changes her mind.”

“Never.”

He ignored me, stuffed the mask back into his pocket, and reached into the other one and pulled out an oversized dog muzzle. “Here. See, we’re covered. He would either sneak out like he did last time and end up here anyway or we’ll have to get creative if he decides to turn beast on us and get all snappy.”

“I told you guys I could hear everything Linden said. If it does happen and you come near me with that thing, Sinclair, I’m biting you in the nuts.”

I placed my hand on Clarence’s shoulder. “OK, settle down. There is a ton of magic coursing through this place. We are at the confluence of two huge rivers. Do you feel at all twitchy?”

He held out his hands in front of him. “No. I’m fine. Not even jitters like last time.”

There was so much energy in the surroundings that my fingertips tingled. Mystery solved. It must not have been the concentration of magic at the compound that forced Clarence’s transformation but something else.

Overton’s hand landed on the small of my back. “Love, your date awaits.” He pointed toward the stage.

Moreaux stood in his long black wool coat. His hair pulled back into a ponytail. He was the picture of European sophistication.

Overton whispered in my ear, “Be careful. I’ll have my eye on you all evening.”

“Thank you. I’ll behave, I promise.”

He kissed me on the cheek.

I crossed the large space, admiring the District’s creative decor. Every few feet I stopped to make way for waiters, excited guests, and stagehands still assembling the equipment for the presentation.

As I approached, Moreaux reached out for my hand. I removed my gloves and extended it to him. He raised it to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the back of it. “I was uncertain you would join me. Not everyone keeps their word.”

“I can’t say I didn’t rethink my decision. I’m not one who is won through gifts and mystery.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He narrowed his eyes and raised an eyebrow.

But my gaze kept returning to the large broach affixed to his coat. The large green gem stared back at me, and any doubt that it was different than the one I found at the compound was lost.

“Our night has just begun, and it seems I’ve already lost your attention.”

I looked up at him and smiled. “Not at all. I was just admiring your beautiful broach. The eye is captivating.”

He laughed. “Oh, that old thing. I got it in a box of things from Cyril’s residence in London. I found it striking, as it brings out the faint green thread in this coat.” He turned his arm to allow the thin green lines to shimmer in the seemingly black coat.

“Well, it is lovely.” What an easy explanation.

“Thank you, my dear. Let me show you what you are inheriting.” He took me by the hand and led me into the building. Before disappearing through the large glass doors, I glanced over my shoulder, stealing one last look at Overton.

Our reflection was visible in hundreds, if not thousands of glass panels that made up the skyscraper. Moreaux was a handsome man. His sophisticated air made it impossible to believe he had once been capable of the atrocities he recounted to me or that he could have any involvement with the Mary compound. The shiny doors to the elevator opened, and we rose to the second floor.

“They are keeping the instruments inside to protect them from the elements, but they will backlight the room so that they are visible through the window just above the stage when the announcement is made.”

We approached two double doors with two large men in suits flanking either side. Moreaux nodded to them, and they moved aside.

The room looked like a museum—an expanse with stark white walls, small instruments in display cases, and various pieces of parchment under glass cases.

I waited until I heard the door click behind us. “All of these were yours when you were human?”

“No. There are some things. The harpsichord came later. I composed for voices mostly in my day. Instruments were hard to come by. Most of these are my collection of prized possessions from after my transformation. This, however…”

He led me to a case illuminated with a black velvet base. In it lay a piece of parchment. “I became a composer by accident really. My true love is poetry. This is my most famous work.”

The paper was yellowed with age and contained fragments of plant fiber. In elegant script were words scribed in French.

Moreaux stepped in behind me, pressing his body against mine, and rested his head on my shoulder. “It’s been so long. I wrote this for Gillette.” He whispered in French each line, and his breath blew hot against my throat with each word.

The intense moment, filled with beauty, sensuality, and uncertainty left an impression like savoring fine wine. But with each uttered phrase I lost sight of my mission. My heart broke for this man. My suspicion should have been my focus, but my awe, his passion, and an attraction neither one of us could deny, clouded my judgment.