Vengeance Borne (37 page)

“I can feel you,” she whispered, and tiny pulses of shock raced up his spine. “Everything you harbor in your heart, I know. You’re laid bare to me, you can’t hide it.”

“Are you really a witch?” Not that he was scared. Nothing scared him anymore. “Seriously. That’s what
they
said you were.”

“I am nothing more than what I am,” she said.

“That was a stupid answer. You think you’re smarter than me, but you aren’t. You’re no better, either. A lot of people thought they were better than me. Willie, Bree, even Finn. But in the end they’re the ones who are dead, and I’m still alive.”

“Do you really think so?” Trish asked.

He hated her riddles, and he hated her. He needed to shut her up, keep her voice from snaking into his ears. “I think you
are
a witch. They don’t lie to me. Not ever. There’s something about you that makes me feel strange. And I don’t like it.”

“Then let me go.” Her gray eyes reminded him of storm clouds racing across wind-whipped fields. His insides felt mushy, and he remembered for a moment the person he’d been. The sadness, the self-loathing. “Let me go.”

He took a step back. And then another to put a little distance between them. With those strange eyes, she’d seen into his soul. His angels were right. The old woman was a witch and she used her eyes and big fat mouth to cast a spell on him. “I’m going to kill you,” he said. “I promised them I would. But not yet. I can’t bring her here until this place is ready for her. And you’re going to make it ready. I said I didn’t want to hurt you, but that’s a lie. I want to hurt you so bad I can taste it.” He raced to the counter and grabbed a length of twine, an old dirty rag and a roll of duct tape. “I don’t want you in my head anymore.” He quickly bound the old woman’s hands and stuffed the rag in her mouth, ignoring the gagging sounds she made. He ripped a strip of tape off the roll, and pasted the rag in place.

He paced for a moment to collect his thoughts. Now that he’d shut her up, he could think clearly.
Keep the witch from casting spells. Put her to work
. From a closet in the old Finnish-style kitchen, he produced a bucket and a mop. Next to that he piled towels and bottles of household cleaners. Time for her to do what he’d brought her here to do.

“Did you know that the kitchen is the biggest room in a Finnish house?” Jacquelyn would like these fun-facts. His mother used to tell him about their house time and again, delighted by the stories. “It’s the biggest room because they spent most of their time here. Cooking, eating as a family, canning and preserving food for the winter. People just don’t live like that anymore. They’ve lost the art of family, you know? But we’re going to change that. We’re going to be a family together.”

The old woman’s body slumped against the wall as she choked against her gag. He could still feel her trying to dig around in his head, maybe because her eyes were still open and trained on his face. Though he could fix that problem with a teaspoon. Scoop those cold gray eyes right out of her head. But then how would she see to clean the house? Probably not the best idea. Yet.

“Can you cook? I bet you can. Most old ladies around here can. Maybe if you behave we’ll keep you around for a while. I don’t know if she can cook or not, and she might want to learn now that she’s got this great big kitchen.” That was a sound idea. Jacquelyn might not be much of a cook. She lived by herself, after all, and had never had a family to take care of.

She snorted. He couldn’t tell if it was meant as an insult, or maybe she was insulted that he even had to ask. Some ladies were very sensitive when their domesticity was called into question.

“I bet you can bake pies, fry chicken, and mash potatoes. You look like the sort. I’ve got a garden in the summer. And there’s an apple tree out back, too. You can teach her how to bake apple pies. I love apple pies.”

He floated on wings of hope. A god and his goddess living in peace. She’d love him. He knew she would. Maybe not right away, but he could be patient. She was worth waiting for. And after Trish taught her how to be a good wife and a good cook, he’d kill her. It might make Jacquelyn a little sad, but she’d be so happy with him that it wouldn’t hurt her for long. She’d get over it. And then it would be just him and her. Forever.

“Come on.” He scooted the bucket close to Trish. “Get up. I’m bringing her home soon, and the house has to be perfect.” But she stayed still and calm, resting in the corner. Rage burned inside of him, frustration that this woman would dare to defy his orders. Eyes closed, he pinched the bridge of his nose. He might have to hurt her again, just to give her the proper motivation. “All right, you asked for it. I’ll try to watch myself; I don’t know my strength yet. It’s still gonna hurt, though.”

Her flinch was more the reaction he wanted. Just a little more motivation and she’d be ready to help him. “That’s it. Get up, now. I’m going to untie your hands but you’d better behave or else I’ll have to hit you again. We have to get this place cleaned up and it’s going to be hard enough for you already with that sore shoulder.”

She inched her body up the wall, standing on wobbly legs. “Good. I knew you didn’t want to be hurt.” Everything was falling into place. He smiled.
Smile and the world smiles back at you
, his mom always said. “Look,” he poured some cleaner in the bucket. “I’ll even give you a hand. She’s going to be so happy. And I’ll be sure to tell her you helped.”

His life would be perfect in just a few short hours. He’d have her, the only thing he’d ever truly wanted. He’d be happy, complete.

Soon.

Chapter 29

JACQUELYN PULLED UP to the fire station, an angry fire burning in her stomach. She’d known Wes for years. Finn had been Wes’s friend for literally decades. They were closer than brothers. She would never have considered him a threat. Though, truth be told, Wes had seemed a little more bummed over their break up than either Jacquelyn or Finn. But she figured that had more to do with him thinking things might change between them and they wouldn’t hang out anymore. Then there was the whole issue with his desire to become a demon-hunting-side-kick, a fact that had always been a sore spot between Jacquelyn and Finn. If the Sentry ever got wind that a civilian was up on their activities, there’d be hell to pay. And if Wes did in fact, have anything to do with Furies in her town, she might as well kiss her ass goodbye right now. Jacquelyn swallowed down the shame rising in her throat like bile. She’d let the situation get way out of hand. Never should she have allowed herself to be so weak, as well as ask Micah to remove her grief and sorrow. She should have kept a clearer head. She should have done her goddamned job.

Worrying about what she had or hadn’t done right wasn’t going to get Trish back, though, and Jacquelyn finally felt more like herself. With a Bearer at her side, she stood at the double doors leading to the lower garage level of the fire station, her breath stalled in her chest. Please let him be here, she silently prayed. But if he was here, then what? Jacquelyn didn’t think Wes would have stashed Trish in one of the fire trucks for safe-keeping. He’d keep her off-site, away from prying eyes with, perhaps, the Furies to keep guard. Worst case scenario—he was already long gone, holed up somewhere and waiting.

“Are we going in?” Micah pointed toward the door.

He’d really stepped up to the plate. Never in a million years would Jacquelyn have thought Micah ready to take on the responsibilities he had. And yet he he’d taken all of them and then some. A true Bearer and a good partner to have, she couldn’t think of anyone else she’d rather have at her back.

Except, maybe, Finn…

Stop. Not now. You can cry your eyes out and worry about him later. Walk it off, damn it. Get your shit together and do your job.

“Just taking a second to prepare.” Jacquelyn shrugged a shoulder. The holster that held her Glock swayed under her arm, protected by her jacket and just below it, her dagger hummed with warm energy. “Are you ready?”

Micah flashed a championship grin. “I’m good.”

A buzzer sounded at their entrance, notifying the upstairs employees that someone had come in. Not quite six o’clock, the day shift had already left and the guys that worked the twenty-four hour rotation were transitioning into dinner time and their stand-by hours. She’d been to the station a couple of times with Finn. A fair share of the town’s population served as volunteers on the fire department, working in the capacity as EMTs or First Responders. It was a public point of interest, and more than once she’d shown up at the station just to shoot the breeze.

“Hey, Jax!” Sarah Thompson said, coming down the stairs. “Haven’t seen you for a while. What’s up?”

Nothin’ much, just looking for a slimy bastard killer, you
? “Oh, you know, same old, same old. I’m actually looking for Wes. Is he around?”

“I don’t think so. He may have taken comp time this afternoon. You’re more than welcome to go look in the maintenance bay. His office will be unlocked if he’s here.”

“Great. Thanks.” Grabbing Micah’s hand, she steered him toward the garage to the left of the staircase.

“Wait a sec!” Sarah called, taking the last five steps in one leap. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

Oh good Lord
.
Just once, God, an ugly, nondescript partner
.
Or must I always be punished with one Adonis after the next
? They didn’t have time for this dating game bullshit, no matter how sexy Micah looked. Besides, he was way too young for Sarah.

“Sarah,” Jacquelyn said through clenched teeth forced into a smile, “this is Trish Whitney’s…nephew, Micah. He’s staying out at the ranch for a while.”

“Hi, Micah,” Sarah drawled, shaking his hand. “We’re always looking for new recruits. You ever think of volunteering?”

For your studs of the month calendar? Bare-chested with a fire-hose between his legs?

“Well,” Micah looked around as if he were sizing the place up. “I guess that depends on how long I’ll be sticking around. I’m actually here to talk to Wes about it. He told me to stop by and he’d give me the run down.”

“He offered to sponsor you?” Sarah asked.

“Something like that. But we’re in a bit of a hurry. Aunt Trish is waiting for us. It was nice to meet you, Sarah.”

“Stop by any time!” Sarah waved as Jacquelyn dragged Micah into the garage.

“Friendly lady,” Micah commented as Jacquelyn led him through a maze of fire trucks to the maintenance bay.

“Sure. Whatever.” She refused to massage his ego at a moment when they should be focused on work. Sarah wasn’t blind, though, nobody could deny Micah’s appeal. Cut, dark skin, light brown eyes and a million-watt smile. Jacquelyn swallowed down the guilt that settled in her stomach like a heavy stone. She shouldn’t be thinking of Micah that way. Especially with Finn in the hospital, beat to shit. No time for sifting through her feelings right now. She’d have plenty of time to dwell on all of it later. Right now, she needed to find Wes, get Trish back, banish some Furies, and ask some questions. In that order.

The vast garage that housed the department’s several fire engines led to a small hallway that opened up into an office. Beyond that office was a smaller garage that housed the ambulances. Jacquelyn turned the knob on Wes’s office door, her heart skipping a beat when it gave way and turned. Sarah said the door would be locked if Wes was gone. And for once it looked like luck was on their side.

But the office was dark and cold. No one had been there for a few hours at least. Flipping on the light, Jacquelyn stared at the bleak, white concrete walls and the sad old metal desk set in the corner. Several photos had been spread across its surface as well as a few heavy texts and a couple of notebooks. Jacquelyn flipped on the light and sat down at Wes’s desk to take a closer look. Micah loomed just behind her, his presence like a soft bubble against her back. It comforted her to know he was there, put her mind at ease.

Many seasons graced the pictures, spanning the course of a year or so. Faces smiled back at her, remnants of happier times. The central theme of each picture sent a sharp spike of tension through her shoulder blades. In each and every photo, the same trio of faces smiled back at her.

“You’re in every single picture,” Micah said, leaning over her shoulder. He rifled through several photos. “Well…you, Finn, and I’m assuming the other guy is Wes? And what are these books?” One by one, Micah perused the titles. “A History of Demonology… Occult Practices Through the Decades… Ancient Norse Mythology…” His eyes met Jacquelyn’s full of concern.

Jacquelyn looked over the contents spread across Wes’s desk. The photos weren’t much of a shock. When Jacquelyn and Finn were a couple, they hung out with Wes all the time. And she knew Wes had been a wreck when he showed up at Finn’s house to load him up in the ambulance. He was obviously worried that Finn might die. She knew that Wes had a heroic spirit, not to mention a healthy addiction to dangerous activities like rock climbing, B.A.S.E jumping, sky diving, since the day she met him. That need to flirt with danger was why he was more than interested in her and Finn’s
extracurricular
activities. Micah’s concern wasn’t unfounded, though. There was enough damning evidence here to make her at least suspect Wes more than she had. Shit.

Micah slumped down on the desktop, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. He massaged his temples before looking down at Jacquelyn, his expression somber. “We’ve got a problem.”

She didn’t like the darkness in his tone. Or the way his power buffeted her, like tiny insects crawling over her skin. Micah was damned agitated and it sent a spike of adrenaline through Jacquelyn’s bloodstream. What emotions did he sense? Had something happened to Trish? She hadn’t heard the Banshee cry for a single one of them. Were these Furies so dangerous as to frighten the wailing woman from ushering the souls of the departed into the afterlife? “It’s worse than we thought, isn’t it?” Her voice sounded small in her ears.

She wanted to throw up. All over Wes’s office. Was Micah right? She’d been the objective? The Furies, the victims, the needless deaths…this was all about her somehow. Or more to the point, about her position as Waerd. It seemed impossible, but could it be that Wes wanted to be the hero so badly that he’d attacked his best friend just to take his place as Jacquelyn’s partner? It would explain why he’d taken Trish as well. Maybe he thought she could teach him, give him some sort of power. Infuse him with Finn’s gifts.
Oh, god
. “We’ve got to find him, Micah.”