Shades of Gray: A Jude Magdalyn Novel (30 page)
“Anyway, Elizabeth, you can be angry at Rian for being a controlling ass, which is pretty much what he’s being. Or….” I trailed off, flopping back down on the bed next to Theo. “You can get even.”
“Get even?” You could see her mind working, trying to puzzle out my suggestion. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“Rian is going out of his way to make you angry. You do the same thing.” I paused. “What makes him angry?”
Comprehension dawned. “Apparently, me talking to Jackson.”
“I’d bet you talking to any guy makes Rian angry.” Theo shrugged and I bit my cheek to keep from laughing. “There are a few guys around this place, last time I looked.”
“Right.” Elizabeth stared off into space for a moment. I would have felt sorry for Rian, except I’m a girl, and girls need to stick together. She smiled, with a hint of devilishness. Rian was in so much trouble. “I’m leaving now.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t go back to bed, or sleep, and don’t think I don’t know the difference.” Her mind was already someplace else as she left the room, and it wasn’t a happy place for Rian.
“Do you really think she doesn’t realize Rian’s in love with her?” I turned to look at Theo, slid off the bed, and crossed the room to lock the door. I thought about his words for a moment, taking the time to pull my shirt off. I slid the jeans over my hips and down my legs, leaving them puddled on the floor.
“It’s possible. Kind of like she doesn’t realize she’s going to be so caught up in making Rian miserable, she’s really not going to wonder why we’re not downstairs for another half hour or so.”
Theo grinned, sat and pulled his own shirt off. “She’s a smart girl. She may realize it.” I slid into his lap, pushing my fingers through his hair. He sighed and I shifted closer.
“Right about the time she realizes Rian’s in love with her.” I shrieked when Theo suddenly rolled, and I found myself pinned to the bed.
“Well, in that case, we’ve got plenty of time.”
Deep breaths in,
deep breaths out. After twenty something years breathing should be something I’d figured out how to do, but the smallest things can throw even the most basic of instincts off. Small things like having the spirit of your dead mother pop up in the room with you.
She looked identical to the pictures downstairs. Like she’d been frozen in time, and stepped out of the frame.
“You summoned me, Jude?”
I swallowed a few times. Even though I’d been expecting her, I really hadn’t. I’d been much more prepared to fail than succeed when I’d found the spell in Gillian’s book. “Yes, I did. Gillian didn’t get to tell me a lot of things, and I thought maybe you might lend a helping hand.”
“Gillian was far more active in your education than in mine, Jude. I would be willing to lay odds you’re already a great deal more progressed after two weeks than I was after ten years.”
“Maybe, maybe not - either way, there must be things you know and I don’t. If you’ve been watching me, you’d know what those things are.” I would keep trying until I either got what I wanted, or I got a good reason why I couldn’t have what I wanted. I really needed to get what I wanted, but I’d take the good reason if I had to.
“Gillian left you everything you need to finish this battle. I see no reason to go against whatever information she’s provided you.” Oh, definite tension. I could deal with tension, usually because I helped instigate it.
As long as she didn’t do some crazy ghost thing and I ended up walking around with my head doing three-sixties the rest of my life.
“Are you really going to tell me there’s no way you can help?” I didn’t pretend to be disgusted and annoyed. “You owe me that much.”
Anger sparked in her eyes. “I gave you life.”
“And then gave up. I wasn’t the most important thing for you and I should have been.” I dropped into an arm chair, pretending disinterest at an invisible breeze whipping Martha’s hair and dress around. As long as she kept the wind to a minimum, we’d be good.
“I wasn’t strong enough to raise you by myself, and the Council forbade Gillian be involved.” The tears running down her face were silvery, almost transparent. “I needed to be with your father.”
“You wanted to be with my father. There’s a difference.” Maybe I was being cruel but found I didn’t really care. “You were old enough to understand you don’t always get what you want.”
“No, you would have been old enough. The only thing I ever wanted was love.” Her voice sounded slightly calmer, the invisible wind slackening off. She had better control of her emotions than I did.
Which might be a result of the whole being dead thing.
“If you tell me Gillian didn’t love you, I’ll break all those speaking ill of the dead rules and call you a liar.” I crossed my arms over my chest and waited. “Really? That’s what I thought, too.”
“You’re very mouthy. I would think the nuns took care of such things.”
“I would think my mother, Gillian’s daughter, would have a little more flippin’ spine to her.”
“We’ll never see eye to eye, Jude. My death made sure of that.”
“Well, whose fault is that, I wonder?” Yeah, I was getting angry. The sarcasm ramped up right along with my temper.
“Hart’s, for killing your father.”
“Really? I would say yours, for dying.” I leaned forward, my forearms braced against the chair arms. “It was a selfish choice, and nothing you can say will change my mind. If I’m ever in the same situation, I can promise I will do things differently.”
“I hope you never have to test your resolve.” Martha rolled her shoulders like she had a knot between them. “Now, because it seems to be the only way to make you happy, ask your questions. I’ll answer what I can.”
I pulled out the sheet of paper I’d tucked between the pages of Gillian’s book. “This will take a while.”
“Jude, I have all the time in the world.”
“You contacted your dead mother.”
“This is the reason I didn’t tell you. I knew you would flip out.” I looked up from stirring the potion and winced at the look on Theo’s face. “That look is what I was trying to avoid.”
“You contacted your dead mother.”
I risked another look at his face and saw an angry flush creeping up his neck. “We had a really nice question and answer session after we got bitchy with each other for a moment.”
Theo closed his eyes and it didn’t take a genius to guess he was silently counting to ten, or twenty. His eyes were closed a really long time. “You are aware of all of the number of things which might have gone wrong?”
“Probably better than you, Theo. Remember, I used to run the psychic con, so I had a list of things that could ‘potentially’ go wrong. A disclaimer, of sorts, for whenever someone wanted to try a seance. Usually all you had to do was bring up the Exorcist and people changed their minds.” I turned the burner on the stove off and moved the pot so the potion would cool slightly before I started the bottling process. If I’d done things right, you tossed a bottle on someone and they went up in flames.
“Jude.” Theo took another deep breath, the flush on his cheeks dying away. His voice grew calmer, although unsteady. “Jude, in the future, let someone know what you’re doing. It would be appreciated.”
I waited, sure he had more to say. After a minute, I made the come on gesture. Might as well go ahead and get the beat down over with. “Well? Go on, get it out.”
“That’s it. Just let someone know so we have an idea of when to get worried.” Theo eyed the steam wafting up from the pot and leaned over to sniff. “Smells good. Must be deadly.”
“That’s all you’re going to say? Two minutes ago you looked like you were going to blow a vein, and now you’re commenting on the aroma of my weapons?”
“I knew this stuff had to be deadly. The stuff that’s good for you always smells bad and the bad stuff always smells good.” Theo picked up a filled bottle, hefting it in his hand to test the weight. “Kind of like broccoli. Smells disgusting while cooking, but is really high in vitamins.”
I shook my head. “You’re crazy, aren’t you? I’m going to wake up one day and realize you’ve gone completely around the bend and it took me a while to notice.”
“Well, as long as you take fifty or sixty years, I’m good. When you lock me up, please make sure the padded room is a color other than white. White is so institutional.”
“I’ll make sure Elizabeth takes down that little memo.” I picked up a ladle and funnel and started filling bottles. Theo picked up another funnel and ladle, working the side of the counter opposite me.
“Elizabeth is loyal to you, but she’s a smart cookie. She won’t tell you not to do something, but she’ll make sure all the bases are covered in case something goes wrong.”
“In other words, she’s a junior politician.” Between the two of us, this wasn’t going to take as long as I’d anticipated. Which meant, either I could go upstairs and take a nap with Theo, or I could round up the kids and get some practice time in. I knew which one I was going to do.
Theo chuckled, filling bottles quickly and efficiently. “I prefer to think of it as the mother to a teenage daughter. I don’t think she’ll have any problems keeping Celia in line when she gets older.”
“Well, if she ever gets a clue, she’ll have Rian to help out with things.” I paused for a moment, wondering. “Do you think we should give things a little push or let time and nature take their courses?”
“Let’s give it a few months. If she’s still clueless, you can sit her down and give her a talk about the birds and bees.”
“Right, because I’m going to look forward to that with all the enthusiasm of a kid on Christmas morning.”
“Are we talking a Catholic kid or a Baptist kid? Catholics have to throw some guilt in with all the happiness.”
“Of course, otherwise they wouldn’t be Catholic.” I started corking bottles, being careful to not thump them too hard. I didn’t want to test one on myself. “So, what were your plans for the rest of the night?”
Theo walked around the counter to place the pot in the sink and filled it with water. “Well, what did you have in mind?” I heard the water cut off behind me, and then Theo slid his arms around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder. His little exhales gave me the tingles, in a really good way.
“Well, I thought about taking a nap.” Theo’s chuckle reverberated through his chest, and I smiled. Yeah, he knew what kind of nap I meant.
“I’m a little tired. How about I head on upstairs and you join me when you’re done here?” Without waiting for an answer, he kissed the top of my head and headed for the door.
I corked the last few bottles then gave the counter a quick wipe down, eager to follow him. I didn’t bother to lock the door behind me. We’d found out, unless I was with them the door wouldn’t open for anyone. Got to love a built in security system.
I turned one of the dozen or so corners before I got to the stairs, and let out a shriek. Clapping a hand over my chest, I gasped, “Jesus, Lies. You can’t just stand around basements and not make any noise. You scared the crap out of me.”
“Sorry.” Lies shuffled her feet, eyes trained on the floor. She wore another one of the clothes combinations I liked to call S.I.T.-slut in training. “Did you need help doing anything?”
“No, I’m just heading upstairs.” She brushed the hair out of her face with her right hand. Not her left. Crap.
A rustle sounded behind me but before I did more than register the sound, someone grabbed me and pinned my arms against my sides. I struggled furiously when a cloth was pressed against my nose, and I gagged, breathing in a sickly sweet smell.
Then nothing but darkness.
An odd part of me
wanted to wake up and the rest of me wanted to stay asleep. The oddness came from the part of me wanting to wake up. I don’t have one. There’s usually just the part wanting to stay asleep. The wake up part was remarkably loud, and annoying.
“Wake up, you stupid bitch!” Okay, not an internal thought. Before I could process anything else, something knocked the wind out of me completely, or rather, kicked the wind out of me. I already knew what the pain in my ribs meant.
“Hart won’t be happy if you hurt her to the point where she’s useless.” Nice, a somewhat saner person. I noticed whoever spoke didn’t say to stop hurting me. Just to make sure I could still be of some use when the punishment ended.
Little bits and pieces of memory floated back, helped along by the pain radiating out from my ribs. I don’t think whoever kicked me broke anything but I wouldn’t be running marathons anytime soon. I’d been making potions. Theo had scolded me. I’d headed upstairs.
Stairs. Basement. Guile. Fuck.
I opened my eyes and sure enough there sat the ice princess. She’d changed back into her normal demure debutante clothes, but no way would you mistake her for normal if you got a look at her eyes. I knew she’d hated me but I hadn’t realized how deep the feeling went.
Or how crazy it made her.
I moved to sit up and pain burst through me again, bringing tears to my eyes. The little bitch kicked like a mule. Someone moved to my left and I risked doing more damage to my ribs with a quick turn. Christophe’s face was an inch from mine, kissable close.
Except I didn’t want to kiss him. I wanted to punch his aristocratic nose.
“Allow me to help you sit up, Prophecy.” He eased me up, shifting me until my back braced against the wall. It hurt to sit and put a little extra strain on my breathing.
“Don’t call her that, Christophe. She’s nothing but a common whore. Great-grandmother Lisette said so.”
Christophe ignored her, an incredibly brave, or stupid, thing to do. I voted for stupid. “Can I do anything else to make you more comfortable while we wait, Prophecy?”
I stared at him like he’d grown a second head, or lost a few thousand brain cells. “Christophe. What makes you think we’re all going to sit down and have a nice little chat over tea about our ideological differences?”
You could almost see the wheels turning in his head. I’m not sure how functional those wheels were, but I would guess not very. “Guile and I were asked to bring you here, so you and Hart can discuss things. Work out an accord without further bloodshed.”
“Christophe, I’ve met your mother. She seems very normal. So please, tell me what the hell you’re smoking to make you think all Hart wants to do with me is talk?”
“But, Prophecy, I swear—.”
“Shut up, Christophe! I will never understand what possessed me to fuck you!” My jaw dropped open in shock at Guile’s raised voice and I saw Christophe flinch like he’d been slapped.
“No wonder you no longer hold the power of water. How can you purify anything when you don’t even know you’re being played for a fool?” Guile dropped into a wooden chair, the only furniture in the room apart from a barrack-style cot. The walls were dark stone, hard and cold against my back, with a smell of mildew strong enough to make me gag.
“So, Guile. How long have you been in league with Hart?”
She smiled, and I had a creepy Village of the Damned moment. “Long enough. Tell me Jude, how can you go back to sleeping with a human after you’ve been with a vampire?”
Ick. Seriously. Christophe gagged, although probably not for the same reason I did earlier. “I take that to mean you’ve been taking sex education lessons with Hart. How… interesting.”
“I prefer the term exhilarating.” Guile stretched, her arms over her head, legs in front of her, the long stretch of a contented cat.
“Guile. Tell me you’re lying.” Christophe looked heartbroken. Guile looked annoyed, and bored.
“Really, Christophe. Did you think I enjoyed your juvenile attempts at pleasuring me?” She laughed, low and rich like honey - or quicksand. I almost felt sorry for Christophe, especially if she laughed like that often. “How could I, after I spent the last year enjoying the attentions of a master?”
“Okay, really. You’ve broken the kid’s heart, no need to rub it in.”
“Oh, but there is. I consider it my reward for letting him put his filthy hands on me. I did what Hart asked me to, but I didn’t enjoy the act in the least.”
“Considering the fact you’re a fucking psycho, I’m not too surprised.” No way was I going to take this level of crap from a snotty, bratty teenager.
“Go ahead, Jude. Insult me all you want. After Hart drains you, I’ll be the one laughing.”
“What did you do?” Christophe surged to his feet and Guile followed suite. He grabbed her arms and shook hard enough her head snapped back and forth. “What in the name of everything holy have you done?”
“Let. Me. Go.” Her voice was still low and thick, but with a feral edge to it now. Like she’d rip your throat out with her teeth and smile while you bled to death.
He shook her again, harder. I don’t have a damn clue how he didn’t feel the power building in the room when the pressure made my ears hurt like hell. “What did you do, Guile?”
“Let. Me. Go!” Guile’s voice rose to a shout and she pushed him. Not with her hands, with air. Christophe might have lost his power, but Guile hadn’t. She threw it all at him, sending him crashing against the wall. Even over the roar of the wind I heard his head crack against the stone, a sickening sound that churned my stomach.
I scrambled over on my hands and knees as he slid to the floor, head lolling to one side. Guile chucked as the wind died down. Not laughed or giggled, but chuckled like she’d played some sort of practical joke.
The bitch was seriously psycho. Seriously.
I lifted his head, planning to cradle it in my lap while I did my best to heal him. My fingers slipped and I didn’t need to look to know they were covered in blood. Christophe’s eyes fluttered open and he moved his mouth to speak. Blood flowed from his ears, and began to trickle from his nose.
I couldn’t fix this.
He moved his lips again and I bent closer, ignoring the shooting pain in my ribs. I had to press my ear right next to his mouth to hear him.
“Please. Forgive me.” I nodded, thinking he was through, but he made to speak again and as I bent over I heard the low rattle in his chest confirming what I already knew.
“Don’t. Blame. My mother.” He drew a short, shallow breath and part of me wanted to tell him to stop talking, to save his strength. “She. Didn’t know.”
I nodded again and straightened. He drew one final breath, let it out slowly.
“Well, that’s one less loose end to tie up.” I jerked my head to look in Guile’s direction, sure I hadn’t heard her correctly. She stretched out on the cot, one elbow propped up to hold her head and back to looking bored.
“Did your mother drop you on your head as a child? You are seriously fucked up.”
She sat up, sliding off the bed to slink across the floor. She knelt in front of me, and I couldn’t help but shrink back slightly. I could deal with evil. Crazy was something else entirely.
“No, my mother didn’t really have time for me or Lies. Her interests weren’t really maternal.” She leaned closer, pressing her mouth to my ear. “They were more along the lines of arranging the death of Theo’s parents, or stripping the skin from your father’s back.”
Before my mind wrapped around her words, Guile reared back, smashed her fist into the side of my head, knocking me out completely.
“I was very clear
in my instructions, Guile, and here she’s brought to me with bruised ribs and a concussion.” Why did everyone need to carry on conversations in the same room where I was sleeping? I mean, common fucking courtesy.
“She annoyed me.” Such whiny voices. Like teenagers.
Teenagers. Guile. Fuck.
I opened my eyes and tried to sit up. Halfway through the motion, nausea swamped me and I had to either lie back down or throw up. Since the latter would only make the pounding in my head worse, I decided to lie down but kept my eyes open.
“Well, at least she’s awake.” As if having a concussion wasn’t bad enough, I had to wake up to Hart and Guile. There should be a cap on the number of sociopaths allowed in a geographic area. Like one, or none. None would be optimal.
Hart’s face came into my field of vision and I tried to turn my head. Childish, but it seemed to be the only thing I could do at the moment. Hart grabbed my chin, forcing my head still. “Can you sit up?”
“Not without some help, and not without moving very slowly.” No point in lying. It would only make the situation worse.
Hart gestured to someone and moved aside. Two sets of hands shifted and moved me to a sitting position. I closed my eyes and bit my tongue, concentrating on not throwing up. I couldn’t call power of any variety right now to save my life.
Call me paranoid, but I would bet my life was in definite need of being saved.
Taking a few deep breaths, I pushed the nausea down. I waited until I was absolutely sure I wasn’t going to throw up before I opened them. Hart had retreated across the room, arranging himself in a chair resembling a stylized throne. Guile perched on his knee, and bile rose as I watched his hand stroke up and down her thigh.
Seriously. Fucked. Up.
“So nice of you to join us, Jude. I’d like to apologize for the hospitality you’ve received up to this point. My little Guile can be a tad overzealous in carrying out her task.” Oh, sure. Be polite after you beat the crap out of and before you kill me.
This is the South, after all. Manners are everything.
Guile pouted, snuggling closer like he was her favorite teddy bear. “I’m sorry, Hart. She made me so angry, I couldn’t help myself.”
“Yes, well now we have one more body to dispose of, don’t we, my sweet?” His long fingers stroked down her cheek, and she made a cooing sound. “You know we planned to use that foolish boy for an appetizer.”
Her pout grew and she patted her fingertips against his thin lips. “But he was so annoying and he wanted to touch me while we waited.”
“Hmm, I understand how that would annoy you.” Hart’s hand slid under Guile’s dress and I swallowed to keep the vomit down. “But you know how upset I get when you disobey orders, my sweet.”
Guile leaned forward, raining little butterfly kisses over his face. “I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
“Of course you will, my sweet.”
I closed my eyes, turning my head quickly when he reared his head back. Guile’s short scream told me he’d found his mark. The sound cut off quickly and I knew he squeezed her throat with his hand to keep her quiet. I didn’t want to watch. I didn’t like Guile, but she didn’t deserve to be a snack.
I had few illusions as to who Hart planned to have as the main meal. Lucky me.
I heard him swallowing from across the room. Finally, there came a dull thud. He’d pushed Guile off his lap, like she was nothing more than a piece of trash.
The sound of shoes moving across the carpet crept closer and I kept my eyes closed, my head turned away. No way was I looking at anything in this room of my own free will.
I heard him kneel next to me followed by the rustle of fabric. Straightening his pants crease, no doubt. A bruising grip on my chin turned my face forward.
“Now, Jude. I’ve apologized and dealt with the problem. There’s no need to be petulant. Open your eyes, let’s have a little chat.”
I knew without a doubt he would hurt me even worse if I didn’t do as he asked. Slowly, I opened my eyes, swallowing hard against nausea and panic. He could break my neck with a flick of his wrist. Having his fingers on my chin scared the living daylights out of me.
Knowing he and Williams were brothers, I finally noted the similarities. Not in coloring so much as in bone structure. The line of their noses. The shape of their jaw. Obvious, once pointed out.
“I’m listening.”
“I need you to do something for me. One little thing, and then all this will be cleared up.” Like we’d somehow been given the wrong tickets at the opera. Just switch a few things around, and everything’s better.
“I need you to tell me where the will is.”
I blinked slowly. Not in an effort to buy time, but because my body was just moving slowly. “How?”
“By seeing it, of course.” Hart chuckled, like I’d said something amusing. Silly me.
“I don’t see things.”
Hart’s eyes roamed over my face, judging the truth in my statement. His fingers tightened on my chin and I knew they were leaving marks. “Of course you can. Your father was the best little psychic pet I had before he fell in with your mother.”
“I don’t see things.” Good thing I already knew about my father’s prior involvement with Hart. My brain was too battered to handle more surprises.
Hart barked something in French at one of the guards and they scurried out of the room. I concentrated on my breathing. Keeping my breathing steady helped with the headache and nausea. He didn’t say anything while we waited, which was good. Anytime he talked, bad things happened.
A door opened, followed by the shuffling of feet. Hart glanced over his shoulder briefly before returning to my face. “You swore she could see. That she would tell me where the will is.”
“The little bitch should be able to. Her father saw something every time he closed his eyes.”
There was no mistaking that foghorn of a voice. I shifted my eyes to look over Hart’s shoulder, watched her make her slow progress across the room. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Did you really think Hart would know to use Guile without a little friendly advice?” This had to be the most fucked up family, ever. I seriously hoped Theo’s branch had gotten rid of the crazy gene. “Now, tell him where the will is.”
I wet my lips, shaking my head as much as possible considering the fact Hart had an iron grip on it. “I don’t know.”