The Light Who Shines (29 page)

Bluebell Kildare: May 31, 2022, Red Ages

My declaration of pain quickly rushes Jack and Gambino out
of my office. Thank goodness for small miracles. As soon as they leave, I reach
into my purse and with trembling hands, shake two more painkillers out of the
bottle, and swig them down with some more water.

After a few slow breathing exercises, I dial Robert LaRoche.
A butler or assistant or whoever rich people from old money have answering
their phone answers and gets Mr. LaRoche on the line.

A robust, pleasant voice says, “Good afternoon. Mr. LaRoche
speaking.”

I, trying to sound casual, say, “Hello, Mr. LaRoche. This is
Bluebell Kildare calling. We met at the Glenwood Charity Gala last Friday
evening. Is this a good time for you?”

Mr. LaRoche says, “Certainly! How are you, Ms. Kildare?”

I wince at his enthusiastic voice. The noise goes straight
through my head. Then I lie, “I’m great, Mr. LaRoche. It’s such a beautiful day
today!” The truth is I can’t even remember the temperature this morning. I
glance outside to make sure it isn’t storming or gray or anything else that
will give me away as a liar.

“I was wondering if you’d mind if I stopped by to tell you
about the special piece I mentioned.”

“I would be delighted to discuss it with you. When did you
have in mind?”

“Would tomorrow morning be terribly inconvenient for you?”

Mr. LaRoche says, “I have some time at nine a.m. if that
works for you.”

I poke my finger into my temple, trying to create a point of
pain outside my head to distract me from the greater pain inside my head, and I
gush, “That would be perfect! Thank you so much, Mr. LaRoche. I really
appreciate it.”

Mr. LaRoche says, “It’s my pleasure! I’ll see you then.”

Something about acting like a brainless twit has me feeling
like a brainless twit because I actually feel myself blushing despite my
headache. “Awesome! Thanks, Mr. LaRoche.” I hang up the phone and then
practically vomit in my mouth. Awesome? Did I really just say awesome to an
attractive, scholarly man? It must be the headache. I would vomit, but it would
hurt too much.

I flip open my chimerator and chime Alexis’ line next. She
comes into view with a bright, happy “Herbal Enchantments!”

“Alexis,” I beg, “can you please try to talk softly? I have
a terrible headache and I called to ask you if you can hand deliver some
products to me this evening.”

Alexis whispers, “Sure. What do you need, and what in the
unholy fire happened to your face?”

I whisper back, “I need something for a splitting headache
from a knot on my head. I need something to reduce bruising and swelling on my
face. I also need something to help with sore muscles in my body. I’m willing
to pay whatever price you require. But I also want to know if I can borrow
something to wear for a meeting tomorrow with a high society gentleman.”

Alexis is silent for a moment, then says, “Well, that depends.
Did this high society gentleman have anything to do with the knot on your head,
the bruising and swelling on your face, or the sore muscles all over your
body?”

“No,” I whisper.

Alexis whispers back, “Then I guess I do. But it will cost
you full details about the bastard who’s responsible. I’ll come over as soon as
I’m off work.”

I gush, “Thank you Alexis.” And this time I really mean it.

Bluebell Kildare: May 31, 2022, Red Ages

Ding donnnngggg
.

Shoot, I guess I have to move now. “Coming,” I shout toward
the door.

Striking pain assails my head behind my eyes at the sound of
my own voice. With great effort, I lever my body from its prone position on the
sofa into a sitting position. The dull throbbing in the back of my skull
decides to join the melee of unwanted sensations by becoming not so dull. I
grimace and push myself up into standing position, sort of a hunched standing
position.

Diiinnngg doonnnnnngggg
.

I yell “Hold on!” and wince at the pain generated from my
own voice. I start to move stiffly in the direction of the door, and as I do, I
slowly straighten my spine out. For crying out loud, this sucks!

Finally I reach my goal. Varg is already at the door wagging
his tail. When I open the door, I see Alexis standing there with a look of
ghastly interest on her face and two bags on her shoulder, one green and one
white. She’s wearing a cream pantsuit and a light gray shell. Her perfectly
clear chocolate skin shines, and her large, dark eyes are as round as donut
holes.

I whisper, “Come in.”

She whispers back, “Oh, you sure did get worked over good!”
She sounds like she’s savoring my injuries the way most people enjoy a fine
wine.

I wave her into the kitchen and whisper, “Yes, yes, I know.
I’m a Healer’s delight. You probably have erotic dreams about wounded people
showing up at your door.”

Alexis chuckles and greets Varg with a good back rub, then
puts the green bag on the table and starts pulling things out of it. She gives
me a small blue bottle and says, “Drink all of this right now. It will help
your headache immediately, and it will reduce inflammation to help your head
and your puffy eyes and your swollen lip.”

“Way to make me feel beautiful.” Then I greedily grab it and
toss it down. Ugh, it makes me want to vomit. I sputter and grimace. “Is that
made of dead rats?”

Alexis says solemnly, “Yes. Dead rats and snake tails.”

I look at her suspiciously. “You are kidding, right?”

Alexis puts her arms on her hips. “Of course. Don’t be
ridiculous. Snake tails are way too expensive.”

Hey, now she’s speaking at a normal volume and I’m not
cringing. Well, this is a positive development. “What about the rats? I hope
they’re too expensive too.”

She ignores me and gives me a tiny red bottle. “Heat up some
tea and pour half of this in. It’ll taste strong but pleasant, like spiced tea.
Drink one cup now and one before bed. This will help with the bruising.”

She pulls out a jar and continues. “This is a salve for your
muscles. It smells like eucalyptus. Use it morning and night over all the stiff
areas.” Alexis pauses and says, “Well, that’s it! Let’s get the kettle
boiling.” And she heads to the kitchen to do just that.

I attempt to follow her, but she says, “No, no, go put the
salve on, and I’ll have the tea ready when you’re done.”

I nod obediently and shamble off to the bathroom with my
salve. When I finally emerge, I smell like a minty eucalyptus tree, but I can
feel the salve going deep into my muscles with a cold heat and loosening them
up. Alexis is sitting quietly on the sofa, sipping her tea with a cup and
saucer for me on the table beside her. This is the part that I dread: the
talking about what happened part.

I sit down beside her and say, “I feel much better already.
My head is clear and my muscles feel so much looser.”

I warm my hands with the tea and smell it. A fragrant aroma
of cinnamon and cloves with a hint of pepper fills my nose and makes my mouth
water. I take a small sip and the taste is similar, except with a stronger
sense of hot. Not black pepper—maybe cayenne? It is peppery and spicy and
delicious.

Alexis leans back on the sofa and lifts her eyebrows. “Now
for my payment.”

I put my tea down and sigh. “Okay, but don’t go getting all
emotional on me because then you’ll make me all emotional.”

Alexis agrees, but I know better.

So I pick up my tea again and stare into its depths of
swirling spices and start to spill the story. I tell her about Schmidt’s name
calling, his abuse, and his attempted rape, all while looking down at my tea. I
can feel her empathy and sadness and anger floating over me. Then I tell her
how Varg rescued me. Not until then do I look up. Her eyes are big and watery,
and her full lips are turned down in a frown. Shoot! I knew it. She’s using the
trick I use on my perpetrators when I question them.

Her empathy twists up my gut, and all the emotion I had
bottled in, all the scared little girl, all the helpless anger, come rushing
up. I can handle anything but that empathy. And I start crying. Not just crying
but bawling, sobbing, great heaving shoulders, soul-ripping, snotty, ugly,
face-twisted crying. Alexis pulls me into her arms and squeezes me, and I hug
her back.

When my sobs finally quiet down, she asks, “So what’s going
to happen to Asswipe Schmidt?”

I say, “Jack found out and paid Schmidt a visit afterwards.
Schmidt won’t bother me again if he values his life. Jack said he wouldn’t be
going back to the police force either.” As I say this, I pull myself together
and lean out of the hug and hold on to my life preserver teacup.

Alexis says, “That’s good. So that’s why Jack is camping out
on our roof.”

I choke on my tea and sputter, “Camping on our roof?”

Alexis looks at me queerly. “Yes, I saw him up there when I
came home. Didn’t you know?”

I’m flabbergasted, floored, stunned, then suddenly a slow,
burning irate. “I certainly did not! He’s got some nerve!”

Alexis gives me another one of her keen looks and says,
“Actually, I think it’s sort of romantic.”

I protest, “Romance has nothing to do with it. Jack has
absolutely no interest in me whatsoever. He as much as said so.” My voice
sounds somehow deflated as I finish that sentence.

Alexis says, “Humph! I don’t care what comes out of his
mouth. I’ve seen his eyes when you’re nearby. I feel like I’m a peeping tom
just being in the room with you two.”

I think about it a minute, and my anger, even if it is mixed
with a little pleasure, is still stirring. “Still, he has no right to stalk me
like this.”

Alexis asks, “Is he stalking? Or protecting?”

I wave her words away. The difference seems negligible to me
at this point. “Regardless, I’m going to have a few words with him about it,
for sure.”

Alexis says, “Well, that is between you two.” Then she
changes the subject. “Have you seen the news about the Dilectus Deo? They’re
staging protests all across the country against Vampires and the Gifted. And
yesterday a college couple was found dead in the girl’s dorm at the university.
They were both Gifted.”

“No!” I say. “I ran into a few protests here recently, but I
had no idea it was a national issue. I have to catch up on what is happening
more. My incident with Schmidt sidelined me quite a bit for the last two days.”

Alexis nods understandingly, and we chat a bit more. Alexis
updates me on the happenings at her shop. Then she asks, “So what’s the deal with
your meeting tomorrow?”

“I have to interview a man about a piece of evidence we
found in our case. He’s a wealthy man, comes from old money. I’m trying not to
be obvious about the fact that I’m asking him questions regarding a case,
though I’m not lying to him about it.”

Alexis pulls her white bag up on the sofa and says, “I think
what I brought will be perfect, then.”

She pulls out a beautiful, white silk tunic with a mandarin
collar surrounded by little blue and gold flowers made of embroidery and beading.
The wide cuffs of the sleeves have a matching ring of embroidery around them.
Then she pulls out a matching set of loose, flowy pants.

I hold up the tunic and admire the handiwork, and then I
finger the silky smoothness of the rich, white fabric. “It’s exquisite.”

Alexis says, “It can’t be machine washed. Just bring it to
me dirty. I have a special charm that will clean it safely.”

I nod absently, still tracing my fingers over the delicate
little flower pattern.

“Well,” Alexis says, “I should let you rest, and I have some
more cooking to do tonight.”

I follow Alexis to the door and hug her again. “Thank you
for everything,” I say. “You are truly a good friend.”

Alexis smiles and walks down the hall to her apartment. I
shake my head. That woman, she never stops working. I wonder if my parents were
like that. I sure wish I’d known them.

Bluebell Kildare: May 31, 2022, Red Ages

I close the door on Alexis and sit down to finish my tea
while I ponder Jack. We did have that beautiful moment. And he is very
protective of me. But I definitely know I felt disgust. On the other hand, he
is standing guard on my roof. For crying out loud!

I get up and do the only thing that will help me resolve
this mess: I go talk to Jack. As I leave, I hold the door open for Varg, but he
is sitting pleasantly on the rug, apparently not feeling like he should
intervene. “Traitor!” I say, then walk down the hall to the stairwell leading
to the roof.

Before I open the door, I take a few deep breaths. I’m going
to be calm. I’m going in with Zen emotions.

I open the stairwell door and walk up the staircase. It’s
dark except for the light shining through the cracks around the door to the
roof. I arrive at the top landing and open the door. The roof opens up to the
evening sky with stars shining around Jack, who is leaning casually against the
half wall, watching me. He’s wearing his office attire, which always fits him
perfectly and somehow looks comfortable at the same time. His broad shoulders
make a striking outline against the deepening blue-black of the night sky. A
small light over the door illuminates his face. He’s giving me his half grin
that slightly crinkles his beautiful green eyes.

I tilt my head as I look at him and sashay over to him casually.
I place my elbow on the wall a few feet away from him and look up at him. I
say, “Fancy meeting you here. Do you come here often?”

Jack casually replies, “I’d be lying if I said it’s my first
time. The views are exceptional.”

Clever man. I take this in stride and ask, “Have there been
a rash of homicides on my roof that you’ve failed to inform me about?”

Jack stands straight now and says, “I consider my presence
here to be more proactive than reactive.”

I tilt my head up to look him in the eyes. “Are you
concerned about Schmidt or the mysterious portal jumper?”

Jack shifts on his feet and says, “Actually, both parties
deserve concern.”

I lean over the wall and look down at the sidewalk. “Can
this proactive protection detail be done in my apartment rather than on the
roof?”

Gently, Jack says, “I think it would be best if I stayed out
of your private space.”

Ohh, the rejection rips another hole in my heart and Zen
evacuates my mind. We are back to this again. I push away from the wall and
snap, “Fine. If my aura disgusts you so much, then stay on the roof all night.
Enjoy the cold.” And I rush toward the door.

But before I can take two steps, I see a blur, and then Jack
appears between me and the door. He leans over me, his eyes shining like
brilliant green lights. Jack asks, “What in the world makes you think your aura
disgusts me?”

I shoot daggers at him and say, “You forget what I am. I can
feel strong emotions. I know you were disgusted yesterday. I could feel it when
you told me what happened to my aura.”

Jack reaches a hand out and tenderly traces my jawline. My
whole body shivers from his touch.

Jack’s deep voice washes through me as he says, “Blue, your aura
doesn’t disgust me. Your aura is an extension of your soul, and it’s the most
beautiful sight I’ve ever beheld—except for perhaps you, but then, it is a part
of you. From the first day I met you I’ve found it beautiful. It shines a
shimmery bluish white light that feels clean and holy. Sometimes—no, all the
time—I believe it’s the only thing in this world that is still truly clean and
holy. It draws me to you like a buttercup tracking the sun. I can’t seem to
turn away.”

My whole body is trembling now, and it’s all I can do not to
lean into his touch as he continues to trace my jawline back and forth. I try
to lighten the moment to help me get control of my emotions. I ask, “Jack, did
you just compare yourself to a buttercup?”

Jack drops his hand and steps back with a self-deprecating
laugh. “I guess I did.”

Then I ask hesitantly, “But why did you feel disgust? I know
I felt it coming from you.”

Jack looks away and a pained expression crosses his face. He
says, “Blue, it‘s you who forgets what I am. I am a Vampire. I have the mark of
Lilith on me. I see my own aura as well. Yesterday when your aura was shining
so bright and beautiful next to me, I saw my aura, dark blue and ugly with its
taint of black from Lilith’s hold on me. It was mixing with yours, smearing the
filthy black through your aura.” Jack looks back at me with regret and anger in
his eyes, but these emotions are not directed at me. “I’m tainted. I’m marked
by evil. No matter how I live this life, in the end, I’m going to the Plane of
Fire. My road is chosen. I’m not going to harm you in the process.”

I’m shocked. “I had no idea you felt that way,” I say, “but
that’s ridiculous. First of all, I’m no holy being. I’m just a person.
Secondly, you didn’t choose to be a Vampire. You haven’t killed in bloodlust.
You aren’t going to harm me simply by being with me. You certainly aren’t going
to taint me by sleeping on my sofa instead of the roof!”

Jack moves so quickly again that he disappears and reappears
with his arm around my waist, bending me over backwards, holding me over thin
air. His chest almost touches mine. It’s close enough that I can feel his heat.
My heart beats rapidly. His mouth is so close to my neck that I can feel the
brush of his breath. Maybe I should be frightened, but I’m not. I’m thrilled.

Jack speaks very softly, and his voice thrums through my
mind and my body like the night fills the midnight sky. “Again, you forget that
I’m a Vampire,” he growls. “I’m very dangerous. I live on a knife’s edge,
always fighting temptation. Yesterday I was a hairsbreadth away from killing
Schmidt, and I would have enjoyed my vengeance wholeheartedly. I would have
relished every scream of his pain.”

Jack moves his mouth slightly so that his breath now tickles
my ear. “And I am most dangerous to you. My eyes are sharper than yours. When
you put that oil on your skin, to my eyes it glitters like a million diamonds
beckoning me. My nose is stronger than yours. I smell your scent rushing
through your veins, wafting from your skin and your feminine core. Even now the
scent calls to me, telling me you want me, alluring me, begging me to taste you,
beckoning to me as though you were designed specifically to taunt me.”

I gulp because I do indeed want Jack at this very minute,
but I know I am a fool to do so. Jack drags his lips across my neck now and
murmurs, “How much harder do you think it is in your apartment where your scent
permeates every fabric and lingers in the air?”

Jack pauses, and then as if it takes great will, he gently
straightens me, releases me, and steps away. “The only thing that keeps me from
taking you even now is that beautiful white glow that surrounds you, enveloping
you, announcing you as too perfect to ruin.”

The space between us feels huge after having him next to me
so closely. I lift my arm to him. He steps back further away and I drop my arm.
I say with deep heartache, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Jack smiles wryly. “Don’t waste your pity on me. Just don’t
tempt me. I’ll stay up here and do the necessary and you should go back to your
apartment and live your life. I’m a Vampire. I don’t need sleep. I don’t feel
the cold. Don’t even think of me. I am nothing but a boss keeping an eye on an
employee who is working on a dangerous case.” Then he steps aside and gestures
toward the door. “Go. Forget all about this.”

My mind is reeling. I don’t know what to do with all this
new information so fast. I slowly turn away and walk toward the door. I feel
like a rubber band is stretching from Jack to me and the further I go, the
greater the tension. I am almost sure it will snap and bring me back to him
despite my exertions. With great effort that has nothing to do with my sore
body I make it past the door and follow the staircase down to my apartment.

Forget all about this? Not freaking likely! The things Jack
has just said will surely be seared into my brain for all eternity.