Duality (Cordelia Kelly #1): Empath Urban Fantasy (4 page)

He nodded. “I feel for the humans who have empathic abilities, but no power. They can feel others’ emotions, but can do nothing but weather the shit storm. Half the time they don’t understand what they sense or feel, and they end up crazy or thinking they’re crazy.”

“I agree. The not knowing is sad. What about you, Sol? Are you light or dark?”

He put his plate on the table and leaned back on the sofa, lifting a leg and resting his foot on his other thigh, getting more comfortable. His arm settled on the back of the couch, but his eyes hardened a minutia.

“What are
you
?” he fired back with a raised brow as he picked a piece of lint off my shirt.

“Both my parents are Royals.” I evaded and stared at the floor, wondering what made such a large stain on the hardwood.

“My father’s blood is Royal.”

“What about your mother?” I asked while searching his face for tells.

He turned his head away and his hand tightened against his leg.

I let it go and continued on, but altered the subject. “All these years, I’ve tried to make sense of why my grandmother was killed. She was an amazing woman and ruler for the light. Who would want her dead?”

“The reasons for murder are varied and unpredictable. Perhaps there was dissent in the ranks?”

I picked up my breakfast, but my appetite had left, and the butter infused flakes now tasted like sandpaper mixed with rancid milk. I tossed the croissant on the plate and pressed my back further into the couch cushions, sinking lower and resting my head so I could close my eyes. Those memories hurt, and I didn’t like when they reached the surface.

“I don’t want to talk about what happened anymore. Usually I don’t. I have no idea why my filter stopped working.” The sunlight warmed my face and made spots dance in my head from trying to see through my closed lids.

“Both my parents are dead.” A rich and deep pain danced across my skin and caressed me, Sol’s way of letting me know I wasn’t alone in grief.

The world carried a lot of pain. Few remained unafflicted. There were rare jewels that filtered pain into joy and laughter, or love and peace, but those lines had died out for the most part. I used to be one of those people before time forced me to accept what I cannot change and can never be undone. Death and mayhem destroyed my life and those around me.

Now, I don’t know who I am.

“You are unique, Cordelia, and special. You were born to rule.” Sol tugged me closer to him and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and I ignored his statement.

I rested my head on his chest and helpless tears soaked into his shirt even though I desperately tried to contain the flow. I sobbed uncontrollably. My body shook and trembling waves washed over me. Outside, clouds darkened the sky, and rain pelted the windows and buildings. People screamed and ran for cover from the flash rainstorm.

I had to get control of myself or the streets would flood, and people would get hurt.

I eased off his chest and stared into his eyes, as silent drops cascaded down my cheeks. He reached up and wiped them away with his thumbs, still holding my face in his hands. He breathed in and out with me, slowly. His eyes bore into mine. In my mind, for a mere second, I saw an umbilical cord of energy flowing from Sol to me, and the connection mystically bound us together. In a burst of magic unlike anything I’d ever experienced before, the shakes ceased and my control returned.

A few moments later, he blinked and the connection broke. My tears slowed and then stopped. I laid my head against the steady thump of his heart and listened to the rhythm he set. A minute passed, the sun peeked out from behind the storm clouds, and people went about their business, unaware a singular person sometimes controlled the rain.

“You okay, baby?” His steady pulse and even tone were balms to my broken soul.

“I will be. Thank you. I’m sorry I ruined your shirt.”

He stroked a hand up and down my back, soothing my hurt, absorbing some of my pain, and I let him because being alone was so much harder. Maybe there was someone who understood me after all.

Maybe I found my soul mate.
“Nah, finding my soul mate in a coffee shop is just crazy,” I mumbled on a deep exhale.

“What’s crazy, baby?”

Oddly enough, I didn’t mind him calling me baby. I found I rather liked the term of endearment he’d bestowed.

“Nothing, no worries.”

“Uh, huh. Sure. I’ll let it go this time because you’ve had a rough morning, but know this… If you start a sentence, you will finish the damn thought when you are with me.”

“You want my honesty?”

“Yes.”

I sighed and leaned into him, inhaling his scent and letting the comfort wrap me in a warm cocoon. I’d question the sudden and all consuming way he permeated my bones later. Right now, I’d just enjoy his company and see where it led us.

“Maybe I will.” I decided. “Maybe I will.”

Honesty. Could he handle my honesty?

Only one way to find out.

“The woman in the corner,” I said with my eyes closed as I rested my head on his shoulder, “is pregnant and terrified. She’s debating an abortion.”

“How do you know?”

I continued on, ignoring his interruption for the moment. “The dark haired man, sitting a few tables over with the blonde? He’s been cheating on her for three months with a plethora of prostitutes. He’s given her gonorrhea, and she has no idea.”

He exhaled slowly and nodded. “Go on.”

“The pretty redheaded barista behind the counter? Her thoughts race with which way to end her own life. She smiles on the outside, and so far has fooled her family. But next week she plans to slit her wrists in the bathtub. She won’t leave a note; she won’t tell a soul because her mind is made up.”

Sol rubbed the inside of my wrists, and his steady breath eased how weird this made me feel. “Have you always had this gift?”

“How can knowing be a gift? I can’t stop or change events. I’ve tried and been ostracized and ridiculed. The only one I may be able to help is the barista, but even she will be tough. Her trauma’s been years in the making. She’s given up hope.”

“Still, we should try and save her, should we not?” He tilted his head and stared in the direction of the counter and the suicidal barista.

“Yes. Of course.” I sighed, and the swift ache of defeat ran across my skin. The subtle texture reminded me of cold dry leaves.

“I sense their turmoil, but not their reasons. What you intuitively, or instinctually, know is amazing, Cordelia.”

“The knowledge doesn’t feel amazing. I grow weary of leaving my house. All around me there is suffering and pain. Very rarely do I come across genuine happiness, joy, or contentment. I haven’t tasted peace in so long.”

“Progress, or what passes for progress changed people. With more technology and other gadgets, people have become dependent on machines for happiness, rather than upon themselves. They take each other for granted, and they’ve developed an, ‘I deserve’ mentality. Nobody aids or helps another without wondering how their help can benefit themselves.”

I agreed with Sol. The world had gone mad. It used to be neighbor helping neighbor. Friend aided friend. You aided because you knew they would do the same for you, out of the goodness in their heart. Now the majority of humans sat idly by why their loved ones, friends, or neighbors floundered about and tried to figure out how their demise could benefit their position in society or life.

Humans were selfish and had a consuming need to please and better only themselves.

“The depression grabs me by the throat sometimes. I can’t breathe, and my head pounds like a rocket blastoff. There are days I stay in bed, just so I don’t have to feel the heaviness of hate.” I looked up at him then and stared into his eyes. “The pungency doesn’t wash off in the shower, no matter how hot or cold the water is, or how long I stay in there. The stink stays with me and eats away at my soul.”

“You are alone, Cordelia. You need someone by your side to ease the burdens. Empaths aren’t meant to stay alone for long. You need someone who understands you and what you’re dealing with. Is the depression the reason your darker side has become more powerful?”

I contemplated his question because lately I’d avoided looking deeper into why my darker side had surfaced now more than ever.

“Probably.” I decided. “My darker nature is fueled by despair and sadness. If there is no light to balance the dark, then dark consumes light.”

I pulled myself together and retreated to the coffee shop’s bathroom to refresh. Sol’s eyes caressed my body as I walked away, the soft stroke of a feather up and down my skin, and the attention didn’t make me feel uncomfortable in the least.

I smiled as I suddenly realized I’d subconsciously put an extra roll in my hips. Truthfully, it pleased me to think he might be as attracted to me as I was to him.

The cold water eased the puffiness from my tears, and I looked at myself in the mirror. My strawberry blonde hair pressed flat against my head where I’d lain on Sol’s chest, and I flipped my head over and combed through the long locks with my fingers before whipping my head back up—a trick every woman knows adds body to her hair.

I inhaled for a count of three and let the breath trickle out slowly, listening to the sound through my ears like a soft, flowing river. I imagined a lush green field surrounded by blooming flowers.

After I left the bathroom, I walked over to the counter, snagging a banana to settle my stomach before plopping down next to Sol. Neither of us spoke, and I peeled my banana as he stared out the window, seemingly happy to people watch.

I wrapped my lips around the fruit and bit down slowly, savoring the sweet taste. One of my favorite things to eat is a peanut butter and banana sandwich. Sometimes on toast, other times smooshed between two pieces of sourdough bread.

Next to me, Sol shifted his position and groaned. “Seriously?”

I turned my head and tilted it much like a dog does when confused. “Serious about what?” I asked around a mouthful of mush.

He groaned again. “Are you really going to eat that here, in front of all these people?”

I choked and sputtered out a laugh. “I’m eating a banana. Am I supposed to hide in the bathroom like some banana junkie?”

    A rumbling laugh came from Sol, and this time, he slapped his leg with his hand. “You can’t be so naïve, Cordelia. You’ve been alive long enough to know how you affect humans.”

I eyed him, waiting for the punch line, because honestly? I didn’t understand the point.

“Look around the shop. Look at all the men’s faces and at how many of them are staring at you right now as you put that very phallic piece of fruit back into the wet heat of your mouth.”

I did as told and sure enough, half the men in the coffee shop were red faced and shifting in their seats. A few girlfriends or wives were giving me nasty looks, and I just shrugged at them and took another bite.
What the fuck ever. I’m eating breakfast, not a cock.

Sol chuckled and leaned in close to my ear and whispered, “I’d keep our house stocked with bananas just to watch you eat them for breakfast every morning.”

I grinned at him and wrapped my lips around the remaining bit, lingering for a second longer than necessary before moaning once for good measure. I had a feeling I’d always smile when I saw a banana from now on.

He chuckled. “You are a naughty woman, Cordelia.”

Sol got to his feet and reached for my hands to help me up from the deep set of the cushions, and we left the shop, still holding hands.

“Where to now?” he said with such nonchalance he momentarily caught me off guard.

When did we become a couple?
“Shouldn’t you ask if I have plans or work? Are you just assuming I do nothing with my time, and I am here at your beck and call?”

“Are you always going to be difficult and question me?”

I pretended to think and then said, “Yep. I question everything. I think about everything, and then I think about the questions and answers I thought about, and then think some more.”

“You must get very tired, I imagine.”

I shrugged and we kept our meandering pace down the sidewalk. Good thing the day was relatively warm. I’d only worn a short-sleeved blue shirt and my favorite skinny jeans. The jeans were my one concession to vanity; the way they hugged my ass was just right.

“What do you do with your day, then?” he asked.

“Well, I’m a guidance counselor at the high school, but there’s no school during the summer, and so I advise my students as needed for college and offer life coaching in the interim.”

“Admirable. Do you find your work fulfilling?”

I glanced over at him because I wasn’t sure if he was genuinely curious or if he mocked me. His eyes were steady and his face was relaxed. His emotional aura told me he was calm and interested. But I’d been fooled before. My spidey sense didn’t always work one hundred percent, but something told me to trust him. An innate sense urged me to confide in him and let him into my life.

“Yes, on some levels. I really like helping the kids. But at the same time, I feel incredibly lonely.”

He nodded, probably sensing my change in mood.

“I’m also taking classes to become a licensed psychologist.”

I waited for his dissent, but he merely nodded his head in some silent agreement, so I continued on. “Apparently people want to see a piece of paper saying you’re qualified before you start your own practice and deal with their issues.” I grinned at him. “What about you, Sol? What do you do with your time?”

He casually shifted our hands and rubbed small circles with his thumb on the inside of my wrist. His touch was both comforting and erotic at the same time. I had no doubt he knew his way around the female body. The way he walked, talked, and the confidence he exuded stated the obvious facts.

“I have many interests.”

“You’re also extremely vague. I can smell bullshit from a mile away, just so you know.

Sol sighed and stopped walking. “You’re right. I’m being vague. I find myself not used to being questioned and unaccustomed to sharing myself with others. Generally—”

“You’re in charge. I get it.”

“Do you always interrupt people?”

“Do you always say cryptic shit? Do people you associate with allow your evasive answers to fly? Because I have to tell you, I hate that. I prefer not to beat around the bush with people I’ve told I’ll be honest with.”

He laughed. “You remember everything, don’t you?”

Now was my turn to laugh. “We just had the ‘honesty’ conversation ten minutes ago. Forgetting a chat we just had is rather difficult, wouldn’t you say?”

“Touché. All right, what do you want to know?”

“How about an answer to what I already asked?”

He seemed to ponder my question before he clasped my hand in his and tugged me forward, continuing our walk. “I’ve been many things over my lifetime. I’ve travelled extensively. I’ve written. I’ve managed business and built empires. I confess myself rather…bored, currently.” He exhaled and I could almost see a weight lifted from his muscular shoulders.

“So, what you’re saying is you roam the streets looking for new projects? Am I to be one of your new projects? Fix the broken girl with no family and nothing but emptiness in her life?” I stopped the venom from spewing out further. I didn’t even know where that had come from.

“I’m sorry,” I said in a quiet voice. “I don’t know why I just spit verbal diarrhea at you. I usually keep a lid on myself and my emotions.”

Why did he draw such passionate responses out of me? What about this man made me want to speak and confide?

He drew in an audible breath as though he needed to compose himself before he spoke. “Cordelia. You don’t have to apologize to me for how you feel. Not ever, and to answer your…question. No. You are not a project, and I have no intent on trying to ‘fix’ you, as you say. But maybe.” He stopped speaking, and I found myself hanging on every word. “Maybe we can fix each other.” He finally exhaled out.

I liked his answer, his words spoke to my heart—as just about everything that came out of this strange man’s mouth did. I should have been content and left well enough alone, but my mind sometimes had no filter.

“By the way, I’m still waiting on an explanation for what you meant last night when you said you’ve searched your entire life for me.”

He stopped walking and turned. The way his eyes bored into mine sent ribbons of desire shimming down my spine.

Get a grip, you know you dislike public displays of affection. However, exceptions can be made
.

“Cordelia, I’ll give you the answer to your question at another time when I think you’re ready. Trust me.”

With anyone else, I would have fired off a snarky comeback to his ambiguous answer, but dammit, I did trust him. We walked in silence for an indescribable amount of time, content to absorb the wake of the other. My body seemed to float on a silvery cloud, no worries, no cares, while nothing but the slow embers of contentment floated through my veins until his watch signaled.

“Why is your watch beeping?”

“I set my alarm for lunch.”

I laughed.

“Do you want to exchange phone numbers?” I blurted out and held my breath waiting for his answer.

“Yes, I would like to call you very much. Do you have plans tonight?” he asked casually as he pulled out a sleek black cell phone.

We exchanged numbers into our respective smartphones. Then I said, “I do have plans tonight. I have a tutoring session with one of my students.”

“All right, what about tomorrow evening?”

Now, my tongue got tied up, and awkwardness settled in my gut. I sighed. “I have a prior engagement tomorrow night.”

“So?”

“I can cancel if you want.” I glanced down the sidewalk, feigning interest in the milling people, and avoided his eyes. This was as awkward as high school.

He chuckled. “Would you like to cancel? You’re the one being vague now.”

“Shit, I don’t know.” I tilted my head up to stare at the sky because he was right, and I was being purposely vague and cryptic.

I blurted out, “I have a date tomorrow.”

“How lovely,” Sol said as he reached out and placed my hair behind my ear.

I tuned into his frequency to try and gauge his sincerity, and he opened up to me fully. The warmth and affection from him slid down my spine and calmed my nerves. Sol’s aura was like standing under a cascading shower, just basking in the sensation, rinsing away my angst. How odd.

“Where are you staying, Sol?”

“In a hotel.”

I raised a brow at him and inwardly sighed. His evasiveness was ingrained deep.

“I meant what I said, Cordelia.”

What did he say, again?
My face must have shown my confusion.

“Well, maybe I didn’t say the words out loud. I’m not sure.” He half smiled, stepped off the sidewalk and hailed a cab. We’d walked for hours, and my condo was miles away. He opened the door then shepherded me inside. He leaned down, pecked my cheek with his soft lips, and whispered in my ear, “I want you to be happy.”

Sol backed out and shut the door with a snick, then tapped the roof of the cab. I turned to watch him out the window, and though he smiled, a competing air of absence and warmth wafted to me and caressed its way up and down my skin.

Another thought struck me. How did he get around? Did he own a car or use public transportation? Perhaps he had other skills. I’d never heard of teleportation as an empathic skill, but who knew.

I blew him a kiss with a small, secret smile, hoping to keep his day full of light.

★★
★

The door chimed promptly at seven, and I opened it to let Tara inside.

Tara Schroeder was a straight A student, honor society president, and fast tracked for med school to make her parents happy.

She walked passed me, her layered blonde hair disheveled and her clothes rumpled, as if she’d just gotten out of bed.

“Hi, Tara. How are you since we last talked?” I asked as I gently closed the door behind her.

Her shoulders slumped, and she walked to my dining room table, sat down, and rested her head in the palm of her hand as she perused the food and drink offerings I’d lain out. “I’m okay.”

Damn, never a good sign
.

She twirled a strand of hair around her finger and sank further into my padded chair, averting her gaze from the delicious treats.

I crossed the room and sat opposite her, leaning back in my chair and opening my third eye to her aura. She radiated a deep self-loathing, and it hurt me to see her in such quiet pain—a pain that resonated with me. Maybe our shared pain was why I offered her free “life” coaching sessions, to get her out of her house, and because I knew she needed somewhere safe to be.

Royal blues and dark grey’s swirled around and over her skin. Her eyes had red rims and sunken patches from lack of sleep and stress. She was about to crack under the enormous pressure her parents mounted on her at every turn.

“Did you tell them you don’t want horse-riding lessons anymore?”

“No.”

“Did you tell them you aren’t into dance like you used to be?”

“No.”

“Did you tell Travis you don’t plan to ever have sex with him?”

She sighed. “No.”

Sooner or later she had to give me more than a one-word answer. “Why not? It’s okay to break up with him because he isn’t who you're in love with. Look at the situation as a kindness.”