Opal's Wish: Book Four of The Crystal Warriors Series (40 page)

“Come here, bitch,” he growled.

She beckoned to him. And some invisible force dragged him from the chair and jerked him toward her.

“Kiss me, Richard James Sebastian Windsor,” she said. “And I will show you why I am the incarnation of grief.”

Something about her scared the shit out of him but he couldn’t help himself. He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her. And even though it was agony and the pain quickly became unbearable, and he could feel his mind unspooling and he knew he was losing himself and falling… falling… falling… into an abyss he knew he would never crawl out of, he couldn’t stop.

When Saiytada had drunk her fill there was nothing left but a shell of a human being. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “That,” she said, “was for my darling girl Sera.”

The bedside phone shrilled. Opal dragged open one eyelid and groaned. “Can you get that? I can’t move.”

Danbur reached across her to grab the phone. His palm stroked her naked bottom. She shivered.

A darkly satisfied male chuckle echoed through the room. “Hello?”

Squeals erupted from the phone receiver.

Opal lifted her head and saw he was holding the phone away from his ear. His expression could only be described as bemused. “It’s Annie,” he said. “She seems a little, ah,
excited
about something.”

Opal rolled onto her back and Danbur passed her the receiver. “’Lo?”

“It’s Annie. Have you seen it? Oh my God, it’s huge. And it’s so… so… hot! I swear I nearly wrecked my car. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Annie, calm down. What are you talking about?”

“The billboard! With you and Danbur?”

“Billboard?” The lethargy brought on by really, really great sex vanished with a
poof!

“
Outcasts
? You—Jordan-Cast-you, that is—and Danbur? Ringing any bells?”

“Oh.
That
billboard.” Opal vaguely remembered Emilie telling her to mark a date on her calendar, but she’d been too busy with other things to pay much mind.

God only knew what Danbur would think of it. She’d tried to explain what to expect but she didn’t think she’d gotten across the sheer scope of it. She’d have to show him in person. And take pictures of the expression on his face. Lots and lots of pictures.

“We have to celebrate,” Annie was saying. “Conrad and I want to have you and Danbur and Sera over for dinner. Tomorrow night?” And before Opal could say anything she giggled. “Conrad’s cooking. Though I gotta say, that meal you helped me with has become my signature dish.”

“Just a sec, I’ll check with Danbur.” Opal held her palm over the receiver. “Dinner at Annie and Conrad’s tomorrow?”

He nodded, and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Of course. I would enjoy that very much.” Another kiss, this one paying homage to the dip of her navel. His short-cropped hair tickled her skin and she shuddered beneath his lips. When he glanced up, his eyes had gone a darker shade of blue, and she knew he was thinking about something else they would enjoy.

Hoh boy. She tried to ignore what he was doing. “Sounds great, Annie.”

“Desiree and Roth are coming, too.”

“Fantastic.” She’d suspected Desiree and Annie would like each other.

“Opal?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve just realized. You don’t stutter anymore!”

Opal smiled. And shuddered again when Danbur’s lips shifted lower. “I know. See you tomorrow. Around seven?”

“Perfect,” Annie said.

Danbur did something illegal with his tongue and Opal almost dropped the phone. “I’m, uh, sorry, Annie. I, ahhhh, have to go.”

“I’m sure you do.” Annie giggled again and rang off.

Some time later, Opal dragged her incredibly satisfied self to the bathroom with an admonishment that Danbur
not
join her or they’d still be in bed when Sera came home from her sleepover. She turned on the shower jet and wallowed for a bit, luxuriating in the heat soaking into some very well-used muscles.

As she soaped up, she smiled, picturing Yara’s youngest sister, Gabriela, and Sera together. The two little girls had become best friends since Yara’s family had moved into the house one “Peter Stone”, AKA Pieter, AKA the Crystal Guardian, had deeded them. The old sorcerer had been very generous—and very
persuasive
. But Opal couldn’t fault him for influencing the outcome in this instance. Yara’s family had been in dire straits, and too proud to ask for help. Little wonder Yara had been so desperate for a job.

Opal missed the old man. He’d been her neighbor for five years and she had no doubts whatsoever he’d been watching over her and Sera for at least that long. He’d turned their lives upside down and put them through hell, but he’d had good reason. And, having encountered Saiytada, Opal knew it couldn’t have been easy to go against the wishes of a goddess.

Pieter had done his utmost to aid Danbur, too, and she would always be grateful that his machinations had brought Danbur into their lives. But while Opal hoped to see Pieter again one day, she would rather not encounter his goddess a second time. Even once had been one time too many where Saiytada was concerned.

Opal thought she might rest easier if she could convince herself that Saiytada wasn’t still lurking, watching,
interfering
. Like that newspaper clipping that had mysteriously arrived in her mailbox a couple of weeks ago. It had been clipped from a Dallas newspaper—a front page story about mayoral hopeful Richard Windsor, who’d been found dead in a penthouse apartment. The coroner had finally ruled out foul play, and the official cause of death announced as a severe brain bleed
and
widespread organ failure. A virus had been mentioned as probable cause, but the corner of the clipping had been signed with an elaborate “S” inked in gold.

Opal shivered, and turned up the hot water. Thanks to a passport and other documents Pieter had left before he disappeared for parts unknown, Danbur was legally Sera’s father. Rick’s family would have no claim on Sera—even if they knew she existed. And Opal suspected the Windsors hadn’t a clue because Pieter and his goddess had been very thorough indeed.

As for Sera…. She was thriving. She’d made friends at school, and best of all, she now had a daddy who adored her. All she seemed to recall about Rick was that he’d been a bad man who’d tried to kidnap her. When questioned, she didn’t remember his name, and she’d proven surprisingly upbeat about the whole incident. Pieter again, no doubt. His fondness for Sera had been genuine, and Opal figured the Crystal Guardian would rather Sera not suffer any lasting trauma from that harrowing experience.

Big hands cupped her breasts and she leaned back against Danbur, lifting her chin to offer her lips for his kiss. “I told you not to join me,” she murmured. “But now that you’re here….”

“I’ll just have to make the most of the short time we have before our daughter returns,” he said. And he did.

***

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Opal’s Wish
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Turn the page for a peek at the first book in the
The Seer Trilogy
,
Seer’s Hope
!

Hope leaned against the broad trunk of her favorite shade tree and closed her eyes—just for a second. But the dream took her, transporting her back to the night she’d lost everything she loved. “Why didn’t I die, too?” she whispered to the indifferent blackness.

This time it answered her, a gentle compassionate voice. “You survived because you are needed. I need you—
we
need you.”

At some elemental level she believed the voice, understood she’d survived for some higher purpose she had yet to fulfill. Still she couldn’t absolve herself of the guilt.

She awoke with a hiccupping gasp. Her parents and her brothers were dead and she’d survived. There was no going back, no point playing “what if”. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut against the pain, waiting for it to ease so she could function again. But this time her nightmare did not fade, and the voice that had dogged her dreams since the accident intruded upon her waking world.

His words drilled into her skull. “We need you, Hope. Come to me. Come. Now.”

He snatched control of her body and jerked her to her feet. He called a breeze into existence, she heard—felt—him do it. And he molded it into a snarling vortex of energy that engulfed her.

When she would have slumped bonelessly to the ground, overwhelmed by the forces battering her unprotected mind, her knee joints locked. Her body was no longer hers to command and she stood powerless, given no choice but to endure the pounding energy filling her, expanding her until she thought her skin would burst. His invasion of her mind was a two-way channel and so she shared his regret that he must take her against her will.

Her protests were drowned by his pleas to trust him. The vortex streamed upward, drawing her with it. Her physical body stretched, elongating to an impossible length.

“Hope!” Her name on his lips was the last thing she heard before she exploded … and the oblivion she had craved crashed in on her. But not even
he
could grant her respite from her dreams.

Another dream—a new dream that whisked her to some unknown place to confront a monster that was spiteful and evil. Amoral. She tried to flee but it—
they
—held her transfixed, and the cacophony of voices echoed in the confines of her mind.
You will give usss what we crave. We will consssume you.

Their poison-green eyes burned with unholy glee. Agony lanced through her as they tore her soul from her body, feasted on it. And at some unconscious level she understood this was not a dream but a portent.

~~~

Rhythmic humming banished her nightmares, and for a few precious moments she wallowed in memories of her father singing her to sleep. The façade of comfort cracked when she sucked in a deep breath redolent of pungent herbs rather than salt-laden sea air. Another breath. And it was an effort to inflate her lungs because… because she hung head-down over something.

Pressure built behind her eyes until her head throbbed in perfect unison with each ragged breath she inhaled. She beat back the stabbing pains, compartmentalizing them until she could concentrate. Her cheek rested against the textured material of a man’s shirt. He bore her weight easily, as though she weighed no more than a sack of potatoes. The surface he walked upon crunched underfoot and the resinous odor of pine wafted on the cool breeze. But her last conscious memory was of dozing in the shade of the oak. Could she still be caught in a dream?

Unlikely. This—here and now—felt far too real to be a dream.

She was about to demand to be put down when the man halted of his own accord.

Adrenaline scorched her muscles. He bent, lowering her from his shoulder, and the instant she felt solid ground beneath her feet she lunged, slamming him aside. She fled, hands outstretched for balance, scrambling to keep her footing. The smooth aggregate pathways and manicured grass verges of her hometown had vanished. Knee-high coarse grass whipped her bare calves. Plant debris and leaves clogged her sandals, bunching up between her toes.

He called out but her hammering pulse muffled his words. To her right a bird squawked, startled into flight. She listened for sounds of pursuit, heard the thuds of running feet behind her and increased her speed, heedless of the unfamiliar terrain. The only thought pounding through her brain was the safety a crowd would afford. She could beg a passerby to call her a taxi. And everything would be all right once she got home.

Her lungs protested her breakneck speed. The air seemed to thicken, coating her throat like thick cream. Spots danced before her eyes. Pain blazed through her skull and she staggered and fell, measuring her length on the ground.

Gentle hands rolled her onto her back and brushed hair back from her face. She identified concern in his tone but couldn’t understand his words. She wanted to tell him something was terribly wrong but her tongue lay thick and heavy in her mouth.

He slipped an arm beneath her shoulders, raising her torso so he could press a flask to her lips. The bitter liquid made her gag and choke. He muttered something, his tone laced with concern as he massaged her throat, forcing her to swallow.

Her mind blanked. All her senses shut down until, cocooned in nothingness, she floated in a place outside of time… and a mental barrier shattered. Foreign words flew through her mind in an unending data-stream. As each word flashed past a voice chanted it aloud and it echoed in her mind. Hundreds upon thousands of words were then augmented by phrases. And the process continued, unrelenting, until comprehension burst through her brain in a blinding flash that robbed her of consciousness.

~~~

Her brain came back on line slowly—too slowly. Her sluggish, clumsy limbs didn’t seem to belong to her body. She inhaled and caught a whiff of that herbal fragrance again. She was not alone.

She rolled off the thin pallet, curling into a defensive crouch, and waited, increasingly uneasy when he did nothing, said nothing. It was too quiet. No purr of luxury vehicles or steady thrum of pleasure craft motoring up the marina. No slap of waves against moorings. No other people. Only him.

When he cleared his throat her heart stuttered. She snatched a breath and let it out slowly. She mustn’t allow herself to be distracted again.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said. “I’m the
Panakeya
. I won’t hurt you.”