Ryder on the Storm: Emerald Seer I (3 page)

After years without answers, Storm stood in the place where it all began. She dropped her bags on the bed and peeled off the sweat-drenched clothing. A cool shower would set things right, at least for the moment. Destiny may be unavoidable, but it certainly could wait a little while longer, until she had a shower at least.

Ryder

Ryder returned the car to its owner and left a wad of cash in the console. He led Lucian to the strategically parked Jeep Wrangler and sped off toward home.

“Why do you do that?”

Ryder knew what he meant. He remained an oddity among the Immortal Brethren, in more ways than one, but he often played dumb to make life easier. “What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean, Ry. Why do you bother returning it or leaving money or anything? We are superior and it is our right to exercise that superiority within the Code.” Lucian paused briefly and Ryder realized his visit was more involved that it appeared. “You are an odd one Ryder. The Brethren are concerned that you are drifting from the goal. I assured them that you were still on board and the death of the Seer stands as evidence of that. They remain unconvinced. I confess I have been sent to speak with you on this matter.”

It was Ryder’s turn to sigh, more of a grunt of annoyance really, the Brethren were shortsighted and power hungry – the wrong combination. “Well then, ask what you came to ask of me, Lucian. I have nothing to hide. I eradicated the line of Sullivan Seers since they were deemed most dangerous. I am hunting down the last loose end. We may arrive at the manor to find him awaiting us in chains. What more would I need to do to prove myself to the Brethren? It seems they wish to make me an enforcer again. You know I no longer wish to live under their thumb.”

Ryder cast a sidelong glance at Lucian who seemed to be working hard to disguise his true emotions. Ryder felt the internal conflict, friendship and duty at odds in his friend. Lucian had been his friend since their beginnings. They trained together, evolved together, and now Lucian felt influenced against him by the Brethren. Perhaps they were not as foolish as he once thought. They did send a friend and clearly gave him some reason to doubt Ryder’s loyalties.

“Ry, I am not against you, Brother. I am on your side. I volunteered to come, just in case, I – well, you know we go way back and I would never turn on you.”

“I know Lucian, but truly, I have nothing to hide that should concern the Brethren. I am working on something and I will share it with you. I have discovered some holes in our archives that concern me and should concern all of us.” Ryder wanted to tell Lucian everything, wanted to share his true discoveries, but he could not bear to put his friend in such a precarious position, it would be better to send him in another direction. It would give him something to take to the Brethren to occupy their time for the foreseeable future, and it was only partial bullshit. Ryder nearly snickered; instead he turned up the radio and started singing to the tune, a cool number by the Doors that had been a long standing joke between them. Lucian recognized the song and chimed in, a broad smile on his drawn face.

Storm

Storm stepped out of the shower, wrapped a ratty old towel around her form, the only one left in her bathroom. She cursed herself for forgetting to hunt one down before climbing into the old claw foot tub. Shaking her hair out and minding her step so as not to slip on the slate flooring, she crossed back into the bedroom and checked the front drive. No sign of Dan and Shane. Of course. They were probably still fighting.

Neither one answered their phone. Storm sent them each a text before throwing on the lounge pants and tank she’d had the foresight to pack. Chuckling at her play on words, Storm ran a pick through her hair and whipped it up in a bun. And it hit; the searing white pain that felt as pleasant as an ice pick through her skull.

When she came to, Dan and Shane were standing over her, concern evident on their faces. Storm pushed aside the vision for the moment and feigned a weak smile. “Took you boys long enough, I actually passed out from hunger!”

“Storm, what happened? We searched the whole house and found you in here with Pac Man whimpering next to you.”

“I told you, Shane. Very hungry, food with you, passed out.” Storm struggled to sit up on her elbows. Dan slipped an arm behind her for support and Shane handed her a glass of water. They were two very sweet men. Looking from one to the other she felt safe for the moment; they would both do anything to keep her safe. If only they could. She would wrap herself between them and lose herself in their warmth. They were both still sweaty and their muscles bulged from the physical strain of the move. Shane’s sandy locks lay haphazardly about his head, those in back curling at the nape of his neck. Several stray hairs had escaped from Dan’s low ponytail giving him an even greater sex appeal than usual as they fell across his left eye. Truly beautiful men who wanted her, and she had to get rid of them. This one could not wait until they unloaded the truck.

“Guys, I am famished. Would you please take my car and run into town for some pizza?” The pair exchanged a worried glance and shrugged. That was easier than she’d expected, but, just to be safe, “Could you go to Sale’s? I could really go for a deep dish and a beer. And if you don’t mind, maybe a quick run to the grocery store for some staples, you know eggs, coffee, the usual.” Hopefully she didn’t overdo it with the sweetness, it sounded fake to her.

“You must have hit your head hard, Storm. “ Shane raised an eyebrow at her, “You are never this nice, almost sounded like a lady for a second.”

Storm flung a pillow at him as the guys scurried out her door. It bounced off the wall and fell to the floor. She waited until the Beetle’s engine started before yanking her most recent journal from her purse. Thumbing through the pages she ran her finger over the words detailing her last vision, the one from two days ago. Somewhat similar but she knew they were different. Storm thought back to the current vision, wrote it moment by moment, and then compared again. Different shirt color, yesterday was green but today was bright pink. She didn’t own a pink shirt, hated pink in fact. Why would she be wearing pink?

Okay, other differences. The warehouse looked different. Yesterday, there were boxes, stacks of boxes in all directions. Today, today it was empty but for an old car, a mustang perhaps, bright red. Her feeling, she felt frightened yesterday, the fear caught in her throat before she came out of it. Today, well, she felt exhilarated. Something excited her; heart racing in a completely different manner, like, well, like she was aroused. Storm didn’t see her death today, didn’t feel the steel piercing her abdomen, didn’t feel the warmth of blood spreading down her legs as she stood looking at the faceless man. She never saw his face, just a body with a misty cloud where a face should have been. Today she felt different warmth rising in her abdomen, sweat beaded up in her palms and a smile spread across her face. She could feel. Storm sucked in her breath at the memory. The man in today’s vision made her feel. This man had raven locks that touched his bare shoulders, and his body, the most smooth, sculpted chest she’d ever seen. And that was saying something given her previous company. His faded blue jeans were unbuttoned and unzipped revealing the waistband of undies that could only be boxer briefs. Wow. Why couldn’t she have more visions like that? She would take the searing head pain if it meant seeing him again.

Storm’s mind drifted, wonder and hope warring within her. A beautiful man, one stunning male specimen like no other she’d ever met - one who made her feel. A tear dribbled out of her eye, down her cheek, and onto the journal page. Storm marveled at it. She’d never cried, not once in her life. This was bad. This was very bad.

Ryder

Lucian whistled as they pulled into the garage. “Brother, you have done well for yourself. I truly appreciate the digs, my man. You will have to give me pointers. Is that a Maserati?”

Ryder grinned, “Absolutely. Want to take it for a spin? I also have a classic Mustang and a Delorean.”

“I am definitely staying long enough to test drive everything you have collected. More importantly, we are going out on the town tonight, and I am driving.”

Ryder noted the hungry look in Lucian’s eyes as they passed each car. “You know, you could have this as well if you would just settle for a while. It is becoming more common among Immortals, especially with all the modern technology.”

“Beautiful specimens like these are almost enough to make me give up the Nomad way.” Lucian ran his fingertips across the hood of the bright yellow Hummer.

Ryder stopped and raised an eyebrow at Lucian as he pushed open the door into the back hall.

“I said ‘almost,’ brother.” A throaty chuckle followed as Lucian crossed the threshold, his steel-toed cowboy boots clicked loudly on the hardwood and echoed down the length of the hall.

“I figured you would qualify that statement. Still, there is something to be said for the steady life. I have set myself as a recluse and the wealth of my enterprise allows for such an eccentricity. Not to mention, I can have an ‘heir’ and with a little sleight of hand, reinvent myself every once in a while as necessary.” Ryder shouted down the hall after Rosalee, the only regular housekeeper he’d kept for this life. A rather voluptuous witch with a rocking nightlife, she had a small brood of her very own. Ryder often wondered if Rose even knew the fathers of her children. Rosalee liked to keep their business arrangement quite separate from their personal lives, except for the mornings she rolled in with dark glasses and hair quite askance. Those mornings she regaled her antics from the previous evening and he nodded along as expected.

Rosalee glided around the corner sporting a shocking pink spandex dress that left little to the imagination. Paired with black fishnet tights and shiny black stilettos, it seemed a rather odd choice for a housekeeper. As the light reflected off her shining raven locks, clearly sprayed with glitter and a can of hairspray, three things occurred simultaneously: Lucian whistled, Rosalee exaggerated her hip sway; Ryder elbowed his friend in the gut.

“Lucian, this is Rosalee. Rosalee, my good friend, Lucian. Will you adjust the wards before you leave, I’d like him to come and go as he pleases. You can take off early Rose, it appears you have some sort of engagement this evening.” Ryder hid his disapproval as always, though this evening’s attire seemed worse than her usual. Ryder shook his head as Rosalee sashayed away. Good thing he paid her so well because that woman could be trouble.

“I would stay away from that one, brother. She already has eight children and you are not the fatherly type.”

“Eight you say? Well, that is no great surprise given that get up.” Lucian nodded appreciatively once more. “I need a drink.”

Ryder led his companion through the massive formal dining room toward the study. He allowed Lucian a moment to appreciate the mirror-lined walls and parquet floor, run his hand along the custom mahogany table and chairs, and take in the matching antique chandeliers. Ryder pushed open the doors to his study. Rosalee had lit a fire in the hearth. For all her eccentricities, Rose could be the best housekeeper Ryder ever employed, and one of the more talented witches.

Lucian crossed the study with instinctive knowledge of the liquor’s location. How did he always know? Ryder had long ago made a game of hiding his stash. Lucian had to have heightened sense of smell as a gift. It made sense. The Immortals were forbidden from divulging their unique gifts to other members of the brethren. Unless you stumbled across another Immortal’s gifts by chance you would never know what they were capable of. It not only evened the playing field it protected their secret. Only two of Ryder’s gifts had ever been discovered, one by Lucian, the other by a dead Seer. Ryder shook that memory off and acknowledged the glass Lucian held in front of his face. They settled into the leather chairs opposite each other and sat in silence, sipping a rather expensive whiskey, for several moments.

“It has been a long time, friend.” Lucian’s tone turned very serious. His normal, sarcastic demeanor turned cold. If Ryder did not know the man better he would be concerned.

“About thirty years if memory serves, not by my choice. You are my true friend in this Lucian, I hope you believe that.” Ryder looked into his glass, the clarity of the moment matched with the clarity of his memory of their last good-bye weighed on him more than he’d like.

“I understand, Ryder. I am yours as well. I come here as your friend, but I must also impart the will of the council. They have, shall we say, concerns regarding your loyalty to the Immortals.” Lucian took a long drink from the glass. The twinkle returned to his eye, the self-assured sarcasm, “I told them to fuck themselves Ry. I am here as your friend to warn you that they are watching and offer my aide in this war you have created for yourself. And, I apologize for our last farewell, it was not my finest moment, brother.”

Lucian downed the rest of the whiskey and grinned, his teeth flashing white and steeled face breaking under the humor he somehow found in his grim speech. It was contagious. Ryder laughed for the first time in ages, the first time since he’d left Her. He pushed that memory aside as well. She was not the one but she perished anyway and his true feeling over Her death would not aide his cause this evening. Ryder took a long gulp from his glass and set it on the table beside him. Now seemed as good a time as any, he supposed.