Unbound (15 page)

She smiled weakly. “When did you get the tattoo on your right shoulder?”

She’d seen the yin/yang symbol. The word
desire
was etched out in the shaded side. The other held
fear.
“I was nineteen.” He saw no harm in answering now.

“And now you’re twenty-eight.”

She relaxed beneath him as his brow furrowed, all her strength sinking inward. He remained on guard.

“JJ,” she teased in a threadbare croak. “I’ve known you since you were five.”

He froze above her, all the shifting inside of him ceasing, reversing. “And you are?” he asked, voice as hard.

“Solange,” she said simply.

Lightning cracked over his shoulder as memories moved through his skull.
Solange. Sola.
Ma
Sola.

“You’ve lost your accent.”

“Second generation French.” She shrugged easily, like they didn’t have a past, and she still had a future. “Easy when you’re raised here.”

“Have you waited twenty-three years to kill me?”

Her tongue darted out, wetting her bottom lip. “I’ve waited to see why I didn’t.”

They looked at each other, and JJ inexplicably lessened the pressure. Then he caught himself, and picked up her conduit, the tomahawk. The heft was eerily unfamiliar. He lifted it above his head.

She gave him a slight smile for being able to do what she hadn’t. “I’m sorry.”

Again, it threw him.

“About…my parents?”

She nodded again.

He raised a brow. “So sorry you were going to kill me?”

He felt her forearm flex before her fingertips trailed up his arm, playing just below his tattoo. “I was going to put you out of your misery.”

“Don’t do me any more favors, Solange.”

But as her fingertips continued to play on his skin, he lowered her weapon. Warren’s words revisited him as he stared into the cocoa depths of the woman’s eyes.
Death’s not important…not even a violent one
. Thoughts were crucial, he’d said. Actions exposed one’s state of mind.

After a few more moments of staring and still living, Solange lifted slightly and ground her pelvis into his. Still half clothed and, surprisingly, half hard, he swallowed, met her gaze…and slid easily back into her warmth.

“Ah. So even superheroes,” she whispered in rhythm, “crave the illicit.”

Her hot breath sent chills down his arm.

“And you crave…?” he asked, somehow knowing he was giving it to her. He pushed deeper.

“Not much.” She waited until she was coming again, breathing the answer into his mouth. “Mere relevance.”

Why don’t I kill her?
Why, despite being natural enemies, did JJ instead lie with Solange on the dented hood of his car, until the full of the high desert storm had passed?

Maybe it was because she, too, had been born into this life of battling sides—good versus evil, Light and Shadow—and she recognized, or was at least willing to admit, that perfection and compulsiveness and vigilance would get them only so far. They could both act like model agents, but if either so much as breathed in the wrong direction, the same gruesome death they’d watched his parents endure would readily be theirs.

Normally his mind shied from that memory, but with his enemy’s head on his shoulder, he admitted that
that’s
what happened when a person gave himself over entirely to the lifestyle. It was why he was burned out, and why he resented the mortals he’d sworn to protect. He found the thought of continuing to exist for the mere good of someone else unbearable. But…

If I had something for myself, something that was mine alone.

“What do you recall?” Solange asked him, the heat in her voice threaded soft.

JJ gazed up at the black metal sky. Not the battle, that was sure. That was muddied with the confusion of a five-year-old’s mind, a swirl of color and sound melding into a singular cry of pain. When he thought back to the night his parents died, he didn’t even remember the red carnage, or not much anyway. Yet he could clearly envision his parents touching hands, holding to each other until the very last. They’d died because of him…but they’d lived because of each other.

“It was my fault,” he finally said, in lieu of his truest thought, which was:
I’ll never have that.
“I wanted to see the fireworks. They were permitted to take me from the sanctuary because no one could stand to listen to me whine any longer. So we were on the golf course, out in the open, because of me…and I think we were tracked because of me, too.”

He knew now, eyes following the tail of the receding storm, that his emotions had been high, a young boy’s excitement even stronger than the fireworks staining the sky.

“Your joy was like tingling, warm taffy,” Solange confirmed, turning her head so she was staring directly into his eyes. “It was the sweetest thing I’d ever sensed.”

JJ swallowed hard. She broke eye contact first, nestled closer, and looked back to the now-clear sky, stars so bright they looked scoured. He could snap her neck in one swift jerk.

“I follow the constellations,” she said suddenly, as if the words and her voice were at odds. “Never someone else’s orders. Not even my own whim. So, in a way, the sky is a map of my mind. Nobody else knows that.” She tilted her head up to his, exposing her neck like a dare. He bent, kissed its hollow, and found it salty and slightly sharp. When she spoke again, her voice thrummed against his lips. “So if you know what constellation I’m tracing, you can connect the dots and predict my next move.”

“What constellation are you on now?”

She gave him a look like he was crazy.

JJ laughed, liking the way she could surprise him. “Fine, then tell me this. Are you on an upswing or down?”

She shook her head, lifting to lean on an elbow. “You’re missing the point. The stars aren’t what’s important. They’re just pivot points to send you off in a new direction. It’s the space between them that’s relevant. Everything that can actually be seen—the stars, you, me—is less than four percent of what’s out there. The rest is…dark.”

“Because it’s invisible?”

She shook her head. “Because it’s unknown.”

She sat up, turning suddenly so both elbows were propped on his chest, her weight entirely atop his, though he felt little of it. “You know, most people think everything they do is so important. They sweat the small stuff—traffic jams and spilled milk—and get pissed off if things don’t come off exactly as planned. Most go their entire lives without realizing plans don’t matter one bit.”

JJ knew. They were at the mercy of something much bigger and, he often thought, more uncaring than that.

“The greatest mysteries—life, love, loss—are destined to remain a dark matter.” She jerked her chin at the crystalline sky. “We don’t even know what we’re looking at right now.”

He dropped a kiss atop her damp, perversely refreshing, cynical head. “It’s the Universe.”

“No.” She nestled closer, and pointed at the sky. “That’s a violent, evolving panorama of births and deaths. Just like us. The Universe,” she said, pointing to the spot he’d just kissed, “is in here.”

Which was the same shit Warren had been telling him earlier. Which was the same shit, he thought, sighing, that he already knew. Except for one thing. He tapped his head. “Which means you think that ninety-six percent of what is up here is dark matter.”

“Exactly.” Linking her slim arms behind her head, Solange smiled. “And chaos reigns.”

It was hard to argue against people being predisposed to chaos, JJ thought as he hauled a skinny mortal from a seedy downtown strip club. The idiot had been about to challenge a Shadow over a woman who called herself Destiny. Yeah, JJ thought, posing as a bouncer, Destiny was really worth getting your head ripped, literally, from your shoulders.

“Maybe it’s why you guys need protection in the first place,” he mumbled.

“What?” the man asked, his tone matching his terrified face.

“I said you should take a serious look at the way you spend your free time.”

“Look at you, man!” The scrawny redhead jerked down his shirt after JJ threw him against the wall. “Like you have any right to judge!”

Score one point for the village idiot, JJ thought, because as much as the comparison rubbed, for the first time he was indulging his darker side, too. And enjoying it. Still, he had a job to do, and was finding a perverse joy in that again as well. He reentered the club and headed back to the VIP room to give the lone Shadow a real taste of destiny.

“I don’t think the Kairos will be found entertaining a late night stag party,” JJ said, parting the curtains of the private room, and dropping into the seat nearest the door. “But that’s just me.”

The Shadow, a small but stocky man who was all but lost between two manufactured breasts, froze. He swallowed hard, dark eyes darting, the glyph on his chest beginning to smoke, but he otherwise didn’t move. When he saw that JJ was alone, visually measuring the distance between them as being great enough, he tried to play it cool. “Can’t be too thorough, though, can you?” he said, smiling, as he ran a hand down Destiny’s thigh.

“No. You can’t.” And JJ unfurled his whip with a crack. Destiny screamed even though she’d been a whole four inches away from the nearest barb, and began tottering from the room on Lucite heels. JJ caught her in one arm, pulling her close to his chest as he yanked, snapping her john’s neck.

By the time Warren arrived, Destiny was “resting” in a dark corner, the Shadow appeared passed out on the velvet sofa, and the room’s security tapes were in JJ’s pockets.

“Who?” Warren asked, eyes assessing JJ for injury.

JJ smiled, handing the tapes over. “Shadow Pisces.”

“Where?”

He jerked his head back at the club. Warren motioned, and a cleanup crew emerged from the night like ninja warriors, slipping inside the back door. The corpse would be gone in five minutes. The kill spot—with the Shadow’s death and JJ’s claim to it—would remain forever.

Warren clapped him on the back, a wide grin splitting the furrows of his craggy face. “Nice to have you back, son. On the side of Light.”

“The side of might,” JJ finished for him.

Though pleased with the night’s work, he wasn’t sure Solange would feel the same. He arrived at their meeting spot, a motel off the I–15, sure she wouldn’t come. If she did, it would only be to end their affair. In fact, she might even break their unspoken truce by bringing her troop with her.

Instead, she met him wearing silk and garters and holding a glass of champagne.

“I’d have been worried,” she murmured as he closed in on her, “if you’d wrapped that thing around one of the girls instead of the guy.”

The morbid humor stoked their lovemaking like rocket fuel. JJ stroked her hair, remembering how it trailed behind her as she’d fled Gregor. He thought of her tomahawk whirring through the air, and it was all he could do not to laugh into her mouth. How could he explain the rush of knowing this dark, lethal beauty was his? Who would believe that he fought hard and well and heroically to return to that wry, promising smile? Coming together with Solange was, very simply, like riding a cyclone.

“That was wonderful,” Sola said after their final collapse, sending him a look that would have sucked the air from his chest, were any left. “But the next time you save me from being cornered by the Scorpio of Light, I’ll kill you.”

She was referring to a small skirmish two days earlier. He’d been sure she hadn’t noticed. Tucking a strand of hair behind the delicate shell of her earlobe, he said, “I know, sweetheart.”

“I wouldn’t stop any of my allies from slaying you.”

He hummed his understanding against her lips.

“And you’ll kill me as well?” She pulled back, but said it like she was asking for a date.

He shrugged, dropping his eyes. “If you’d like.”

“It’s not about what I
like
,” she said, biting off the last word. She forced him to look at her. “It’s about authenticity. We need to be as honest in that as we are in all else. Otherwise, this means nothing.”

“In that case,” he said, licking at her skin, “I’ll wrap my whip around your middle, let the barbs bite into your organs, and rip it free before you even make a sound.”

He kissed her lightly and she sighed into his opened mouth. “You’re such a romantic.”

JJ swallowed her wicked laugh, and met the lift of her hips.

“Find the Kairos yet?” she asked, licking at the hollow of his neck.

He kissed the top of her head. “Stop fishing.”

She put on a pout. “Like you don’t care what we’re up to.”

“Honey, if your side had our world’s weapon of mass destruction, I wouldn’t be lying here now.” And a part of him was careful to keep this in mind, even when he was notched deep inside her. “You guys have no idea where the Kairos is.”

Knowing she was beaten, she curled up, back to his chest, leaving JJ to wonder if she wasn’t merely a gorgeous, exciting, and, yes, dangerous pet project. Proof that even someone raised by people dedicated to chaos and destruction could choose the right thing, if only provided the opportunity. Perhaps, he thought, stroking her hair, if they had someone to believe they were good.

Playing savior was no basis for a relationship, but as his actions weren’t being reported in either the Shadow manuals or the Light, he didn’t worry too much. Disguised as comic books and consumed by mortal minds, these manuals were as important for what they omitted as for the battles they recorded. Perhaps his deeds weren’t being shown because he was getting through to Sola. He chose to believe the Universe knew she needed anonymity if she was to continue working her way toward good. After all, his side would try to stop him if they knew what he was doing, and hers would kill her outright.

Thus, he decided, the Universe itself was upholding their right to choose—to choose each other or to choose to walk away—and to do it without interference from those who wouldn’t know of the affair unless they saw it with their own eyes. That was a natural law; and therefore an obvious sign to JJ that Sola was wrong and he was right.

So he held out hope she would soon realize this, even while unable to fathom such a reversal in his own moral code. The great irony? His involvement with her hadn’t lessened his desire to save the world, but strengthened it. So how could it be wrong? Besides, his heart’s longing was a small, private matter: he wished only to love whom he wanted, to be with whom he chose.

But she was right about one thing. Why should he be the only one not getting what he wanted? Why should every small pleasure be sacrificed to duty? If he was going to die in the same gruesome fashion as his parents—a risk he took every time he stepped from his sanctuary—then he should be allowed to take joy where he could. So when she woke and turned to him in the middle of the night, asking yet again why he bothered fighting her kind, he smiled against her side.

“I need to,” he said simply. “I’m a superhero.”

“You’re a man,” she said, her throaty voice soft as smoke, her hand resting on the tattoo that was both shadow and light. “I have what you need.”

Yes. For some reason he needed her, too.

And for some other reason, she was willing to be his need.

“Don’t get it.”

Sola’s eyes were on JJ as he leaned from the bed to check his cell. Warren. “I have to.”

“You’re putting work ahead of me.” Her bottom lip, swollen from his kisses, would be sticking out.

“Ahead of the competition, yes.” He smiled as he angled back, but she turned away. Snorting, he putting a hand over the receiver in case Warren came on the line. “Don’t even try it.”

Solange threw the sheets from her body, backside swaying as she made her way to the bathroom. A few seconds later water began running into the tub. “Yes,” he said, tone altering at Warren’s voice. His leader had begun calling JJ first, whether it was to assist with recon, stakeout, or especially attack. How ironic that he had Sola to thank for it.

“I’ve found her.”

JJ stood. “You haven’t.” But he began pulling on his jeans one-handed. “Where?”

“Right where she’s supposed to be.” Warren laughed, and it wasn’t his maniacal spiral, though it couldn’t be called tame, either. “She wasn’t in hiding or kidnapped by the Shadows or even in jail over a traffic violation. She went to fucking Maui, but now she’s back.”

Maui.
JJ rolled his eyes. Tonya Dane predicted his world’s savior and then went surfing. “Where are you?”

“The motel on Fremont.”

“I’ll be right there.” JJ flipped the phone shut and slid it into his pocket. Getting to Tonya first was a huge coup. That woman’s mind—mortal, but a psychic’s—was a big red arrow on a map that, with luck, could lead directly to the Kairos.

Solange was soaking in the tub, slim and shining legs propped against the faucet, dark tendrils pressed against the damp curve of her long neck. JJ smiled reflexively when he saw her, but she didn’t even look up.

“Off to play angel of mercy?” She wrinkled her little nose, and sourly truncated his reply. “I don’t understand why you bother saving those who won’t lift a finger to save themselves.”

Given his recent burnout, JJ was surprised to find himself arguing. “We allow freedom of choice from your influence. We don’t interfere unless there’s an outright victimization. We simply counteract
your
machinations so the mortal population remains autonomous.”

“Shadows can’t influence those who aren’t already predisposed to chaos,” she answered, as quickly. “All you do is delay the inevitable.”

“We grant a person time and space to make a better choice.”

“You waste your life to better the future of those who are undeserving.”

“Everyone is deserving of a chance,” he answered simply, hand to her cheek.

She mimicked the movement. “I told you you’re a romantic.”

“You are, too.”

She pulled away at that, the lips he loved to lick pursed in a tight bow. “Uh-uh. I live for myself. I put my life above all others. It will always be that way, mark my word.”

“And is that written in the stars?”

“You know the answer to that.” It was written between them.

“Go.” She lifted a leg in the air, soaping one tight calf, her mouth still thinned in a pout.

He wanted to say he was sorry, that she knew how duty called, and all that, but it wouldn’t deter Sola from a mood she was determined to be in, and it was also untrue. He wasn’t sorry, because the moment she got wind that the soothsayer was back in town, she and her entire troop would swoop down upon her as well.

Right now he ignored Sola’s combative words by lifting her from the water and pulling her to him. She squealed, though he could tell she was delighted. How could one of the softest things he’d ever touched also be one of the hardest people he’d ever known?

“You won’t be far behind,” he reminded her, circling his hands on her bare hips.

She shrugged one slim, wet shoulder, like she didn’t care, but beckoned him forward after another moment. Lifting to her toes as he curled about her, she tucked her hands into the back pockets of his jeans, wetting the front of him with her warm body, her tongue darting gently to meet his lips. He opened to her, but she didn’t deepen the kiss, just pulled back to stare up into his eyes, the fingertips of her left hand rising to circle the tattoo that lay beneath his T-shirt.

“Be careful out there.”

He reached around to cup her ass, lifted her slightly, and deepened the kiss himself. Her response was fired, and seconds flipped into minutes. “Find me again tonight?”

“That soon?” Surprise lightened her voice. They usually waited at least a day between meetings.

He smiled. “I’m hard now.”

“I’ll be here.”

JJ was still smiling as he let himself out into the morning light. Behind him was an enemy mistress, who made him feel bold, oddly heroic, and shockingly alive. In front of him was a mortal Seer, who might or might not know the identity of his world’s savior. He tried not to think of himself as being caught between them. He still wanted it all.