Waking Eden (The Eden Series Book 3) (5 page)

A tidy but sparse and aged study, the decor at least two decades old.

The woman in her mother’s doorway stood beside a man whose dark-haired head was bowed over a large desk.

“Please, don’t make me go there,” she said. “God forgive me, but she’s the most judgmental, sanctimonious person I think I’ve ever met.”

The dark-haired man looked up. “I need you, Lisa. You can reach her. Someone needs to. She’s making the rest of our parishioners nervous.”

Trinity dropped the woman’s hand and reality rushed to greet her.

“I’m Lisa O’Dell. My husband’s the minister at your mother’s church.”

That’s why she seemed familiar. Trinity had only been to her mother’s church-of-the-month a few times, much to Mom’s dismay. “That’s right. I remember now. It’s good to see you again.”

Lisa stepped out onto the stoop, making room for Trinity to pass through. “Such a nice daughter to come and spend a quiet lunch with your mother.”

Behind her, Trinity’s mother scoffed.

Lisa didn’t seem to notice. “Now remember what I said, Carol. I know you mean well, but the church is about tolerance and love. Take a few days to think it through, and if you feel you need someone to talk to, I’ll swing by for another chat.” Her words were sweet and her smile was locked in place, but she bee-lined it to the car before her mother could answer.

Trinity pulled the screen door closed and shut the main door behind it, blocking out the cheery noonday sun. The dreary room matched everything about her mother—thinning, dull blond hair with ample gray, and clothes in every shade of drab. “What was all that about?”

Silly to ask. After all these years with her mother, the routine seldom changed.

“I simply shared with the minister my concerns about the youth at church and their wanton behavior.” Her mother crossed her arms and frowned, the wrinkles around her mouth etched deep from years of scowling. “Evil must be stomped out before it can take root. The smallest amount of tolerance can lead to ruin for their souls.”

Trinity sat her purse aside and glided to the small kitchen. The scent of spice and bubbling cheese filled the room. Mexican chicken casserole if she had to guess. The thought of eating while sitting through one of her mother’s vile spiels made her queasy.

She pulled her old emotional armor tight. If those innocent children were sporting evil in her mother’s eyes, then Trinity was the devil himself. “Lisa’s right, Mom. Let their parents handle it and know that The Gr—God—will see to their needs.”

Carol opened her mouth to argue.

“So, anything else interesting going on at church?” Trinity grabbed plates from the old white cabinets and set the table. Her mother’s social life consisted of worship service, charity functions, meddling in the lives of churchgoers, and praying for her adopted daughter’s soul.

Her mother shuffled to the kitchen sink with the dated, cornflower blue Formica surrounding it, and washed her hands. “They’re holding a pot luck and a silent auction tomorrow night. I told them you’d be there after the library closes down.”

Show up. Listen. Speak your truth. Let go of the results.

“I’m sorry, I can’t. I’m working extra to get the hang of my new job.” Damn. Not the truth. Speak the truth. “And after a long day of good work, I want to go home and get my new place settled.”

“Well, that’s a little selfish, don’t you think?” She dried her hands on a faded green towel nearly as old as Trinity and leaned one hip on the counter. “You can unpack your things after church on Sunday. I’ll come help.”

Shit. At this rate, she’d have to speak her truth with a baseball bat to make an impact. “Mom, I appreciate the offer, but this is something I want to do, and I want to do it tomorrow after work. On my own.”

Carol dropped the casserole she’d pulled from the oven to the maple table with a clunk. “You’re awfully quick to distance yourself from me and the church. Ungrateful, if you ask me.”

Well, I didn’t ask you.

The television on the side table in the corner soundlessly streamed the midday news and the clock on the wall showed twelve-twenty. Twenty more minutes and she’d have an excuse to leave. “How’s your back feeling?”

“Hard to get around. I spent most of yesterday resting in bed, but doing a little better today.” She spooned enough casserole onto Trinity’s plate to feed a lumberjack. “Of course, if you’d been here, I never would have injured it in the first place.”

Twelve twenty-one.
Note to self: seriously re-think visits to Mom and limit to no more than thirty minutes.

“A mother shouldn’t have to bribe her daughter with lunch to see her.”

“I offered to come, Mom. I wanted to check on you, find out how your back’s doing, and see if you needed anything done while I’m here.” More like ease her guilty, mother-fueled conscience for moving out in the first place. Boy, was that plan a bust.

“I don’t need anything from you, Trinity. I’m fully capable of taking care of myself.”

Ah, backhanded guilt. Awesome. Well played.

Carol’s gaze locked on the television. A frozen video clip stretched to cover the whole screen, a black Pegasus with its wings outstretched and ready for flight on a silver background. At least she thought it was a Pegasus. The detail was horrid. Beneath it the caption read,
Clues Emerge in North Texas High School Phenomenon.

Without so much as a blink, her mom snatched the remote control and upped the sound.

“For nearly a month now, forensic video analysts have been combing through blurred images captured at what dozens of Friday night football spectators claimed was a preternatural combat in the North Texas High School parking lot. Government and military officials engaged in researching the footage when witnesses claimed that the fighters, all large in stature and comporting themselves in a way consistent with military training, cast either flame or electrical strikes from their palms.

“Today reports surfaced indicating that the image you see on your screen has been identified as a type of insignia on more than one of the men in question. Facial recognition is still unavailable, but authorities assure they will continue to identify and locate the men in question.”

The remote clattered from Carol’s hand to the kitchen table. “Devil’s work.” Face tight with fear, her gaze slid to Trinity.

Tingles started at the base of Trinity’s neck, cupping the back of her head like a specter’s hand. A roar filled her ears.

Bad news. Very, very bad news. That fanatic gleam in her mother’s eyes never boded well. Combined with Trinity’s built-in warning radar, she could only expect something close to emotional Armageddon.

Her mother’s lips firmed, her frail body nearly shaking with whatever fury was gaining speed beneath the surface. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

Damn it. She should have expected this. “Mom, I’m just a girl. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Normal girls don’t see the future.”

“I don’t see the future.” Well, not yet anyway. Only if she caved to Kazan’s urgings and accepted her gifts.

“Then tell me how a seven-year-old girl can warn her father not to leave the house on the same day he gets killed.”

“It was a fluke, Mom.” Not that her warning had helped save David’s life. It was also the last time she’d ever opened her mouth to share such a feeling in front of her mother. “I just didn’t want him to go.”

“Devil’s work. I knew it then. I thought I could do my part to save your soul, but I was wrong.”

God, she was so tired of this. Maybe Kazan was right. Maybe she should accept her mother’s tenuous grip on reality and let her go. Carol had always been a little intense, even before David died in a car wreck. After that, it turned into something more. Something sick and scary. But she’d still cared for Trinity, despite her inability to touch.

The weatherman droned in the background, promising fall’s first cold front. Twelve thirty-two. Close enough to call lunch finished. She could fathom her next steps with her mother in the sane, controlled safety of work. “It’s time to get back to work. Do you need me to do anything before I leave?”

Carol shook her head, gaze aimed through the big window overlooking the small, plain backyard. “Go.” Her hands opened and closed over and over into tiny, nervous fists. “Get out and let me get on with what I need to do.”

The urge to placate and soothe her mother’s anxiety with blithe assurances that everything was fine bubbled to her lips.

No. This wasn’t her problem. Not anymore. She was free. On her own and no longer beholden to this woman in anything beyond loyalty and love. “All right then. I’ll check in with you in a few days.”

She pushed from the table and snatched her purse. She could do this. Just walk out the door and keep her mouth shut.

She opened the front door and the sun lit up the dark entryway like a breath of fresh air.

“Trinity.”

Mid-stride across the threshold, Trinity glanced back and the buzz-tingle combo flashed back to life.

Her mother’s flat, brown eyes glared from the kitchen entry. “I know what you are.”

Trinity pulled the door shut behind her and jogged down the sidewalk. Her mother couldn’t know. Not really. But God help her if she ever found out.

R
amsay hustled
across the plaza in front of the downtown Dallas library and dug his iPhone out of his back pocket.

Four-forty-five. Way too damned close. Maybe he’d catch a break and learn she worked a later shift, but odds were on her being an eight-to-five girl.

The library’s sand colored exterior with dark tinted windows and clean, once-thought-futuristic lines screamed eighties architecture. He opened one of the many glass doors and strode across the neutral, yet dated marble floors to the main desk.

An older woman straight out of a textbook librarian image peered up at him with a friendly smile. A white security badge dangled around her neck, the name
Martha
in big black letters. “Can I help you?”

Rows of teak-colored tables stretched behind her, all walks of life taking up random seats while others roamed in and out of the tall shelves on either side.

“I’m here to see Trinity Blair.” His words came out more winded than he cared for, a fact he’d like to blame on the rush to get there. Truth was, his body hadn’t stopped pulsing since he’d stepped foot out of the council building.

Martha scanned the row of offices along the far wall, all with doors closed except the one on the end. “I’m sorry, but she appears to be gone for the day. Is there something I can help you with?”

Not unless she knew a convenient way to rewind this whole damned day so he could show up thirty minutes earlier. “Any chance she’ll be back in this weekend? There’s something I wanted to run past her and was hoping I wouldn’t have to wait until Monday.”

She grabbed a pink pad with
While You Were Out
blazoned in blue text at the top. “It’s against our policy to give out employee schedules, but if you want to leave a message, I’d be glad to pass it on.”

“Oh, this isn’t business.” He flashed his most charming smile, the one he used on Orla when he was tired of bachelor food and wanted a particular meal. “Trinity’s a friend of mine. I needed to ask her a quick question.”

Her mouth pursed in an attempt to hide a knowing grin. She failed miserably. “If you’re friends, then I’m sure you’ve got her contact information. You can call her and ask when she’ll be here again or meet her outside of work.”

Damn. Schooled by a little old lady he could snap like a twig. His pride rebounded. “You’re right. I’ll shoot her a text and see what her schedule looks like. Thanks for the help.”

The lady smirked, but went back to her work.

Great. Now what?

He meandered toward the offices, winding through the aisles until he was sure Trinity’s guard dog, Martha, had forgotten he existed. He pulled a book from a nearby shelf and pretended to check the contents. With a mental push, he tried the doorknob on the first office.

Locked.

He tried the other closed doors.

All locked.

He snapped the book shut and shoved it back on the shelf, no doubt plugging it in the wrong spot.

All wasn’t lost. He could hit Ian up to do a search. Maybe see what his PI skills turned up. Still, approaching Trinity at her house wouldn’t go over well. Not with a girl like her.

A pair of women with the same library identification tags ambled into the main lobby from a side hall, one of them gesturing wildly to match whatever story tumbled from her lips.

He might not be able to charm info out of Martha, but women under the age of fifty were a whole different ballgame.

“Excuse me.” He strode toward the girls, checking to make sure Martha kept to her business. “Trinity’s office is locked up, and I was supposed to meet her here before she went home. Any chance you guys know where she’s parked so I can catch her before she leaves?”

Manufacturing an innocent, good-natured boyfriend expression wasn’t one he had any experience with, but he gave it his best shot.

The dark-haired woman who’d been telling the animated story brightened and pointed toward a door at the end of the hall, a green Exit sign overhead. “Oh, no problem. We just left her. Out that door and over to the parking garage. If you hurry you can catch her before she gets there.”

“Thanks!” He winked and jogged down the hallway, giggles from the two girls trailing behind him.

The security door
kachunked
open.

He blinked against the blinding afternoon sun. A mom hurried across the street with two toddlers in tow. Businessmen and women exited the buildings on all sides, some on phones, some chattering with those next to them. Cars raced between the stoplights and the drone and honks of traffic from the nearby freeway buzzed behind him.

Fuck. Where was the parking garage?

The light across the street turned green and a cluster of people stepped off the curb. A flash of blonde caught his eye, the owner’s petite form moving more leisurely than the rest of the crowd.

“Trinity!”

His shout garnered more than one turned head, but the blonde head in question turned more sharply than the others.

He jogged to catch up with her, earning a honk from an impatient driver before he cleared the curb.

Trinity took a cautious step back. “What are you doing here?”

Ramsay kept his distance, her death grip on her briefcase’s shoulder strap and the fear in her eyes slapping his conscience. “Sorry. I was trying to find you to apologize.”

“And you knew to find me here how?” She might be nervous, but the bite in her tone said she didn’t lack backbone.

“I, ah…” Ramsay ducked his head. Shit. Coming clean on this one was going to be tricky. He looked up and cocked what he hoped was a sheepish grin. “Your friends mentioned where you worked.”

Her cheeks flushed a bright red and she turned for the garage. Yep. Definitely a backbone.

Ramsay darted forward and gripped her arm. “Wait.”

She spun around so hard her briefcase nearly took out a woman passing on the sidewalk.

Ramsay held up his hands. “They only told me where you worked. I promise. And believe me, that took some doing.”

Trinity scanned the street. Was she planning to run or looking for a cop?

“Listen, I’m afraid I came off like a class-A dick yesterday,” he said. “I was kind of hoping I could make it up to you. Maybe get some coffee. Something public. Simple.”

What the hell was he doing? Coffee? The extent of his conversations with women usually centered on music, social life, and sex. With Trinity and a coffee shop he’d be in a whole different realm of shoptalk, unless he got lucky and her librarian side had an affinity for military history. That he could talk about.

She took a deep breath and stared past the parking gate to the dark shadows beyond.

“Come on,” he urged. “Just coffee. Or dinner, if you’re hungry. Someplace quiet where we can talk.” He motioned toward the cars parallel-parked in front of the library. “I’ve got my car parked around front. We can stay close. You pick.”

Trinity shook her head, straightened to the peak of her whopping five-foot height, and headed for the garage. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He followed, but kept a decent distance. “I promise. I just want to get to know you. Make up for the way I acted. What can I do to make you feel safe?”

She stopped and ran a hand through her hair. A chunk of her nearly platinum locks fell across her brow in a sexy tousle.

Damn but that was a good look on her. One he’d give a lot to see under entirely different circumstances.

She shoved the strand out of her face and held out her hand. “Give me your license.”

Well, she wasn’t storming off anymore, so that was something. He dug in his back pocket, tugged his license from his wallet, and handed it over.

Trinity plucked it from his fingers. “Oklahoma?”

“My twin and his bain—wife live there.”

“So you’re here on business or pleasure?”

Don’t fuckin’ blow it, lover boy. Stick close to the truth.
“A little of both. They’re newlyweds and driving me nuts. Plus I needed to research some things for our family business. The trip here covered both.”

She tapped the corner of his license for a minute then dug in her purse. She whipped out her phone, snapped a picture of his license, and handed it back. “I’m texting a copy to three of my friends. I’ll call them before we go in and after we leave.”

She pursed her mouth in the cutest way. Her lips were a pretty pink. Pale to match the rest of her coloring, not at all like the darker skin tones prevalent with his race. And they were full. Kissable.

Wait a minute. He was here to find out about the necklace, who the hell she was, and how she knocked him on his ass. Not lock lips and see if that perky personality of hers transferred to the bedroom. “So, where are we headed?”

Trinity readjusted her shoulder strap, dropped her phone in her purse, and squared her shoulders with a determined air. “How do you feel about pizza?”

* * *

S
erena glided
through the stark council hallways toward her first taste of freedom in weeks, Thryus waddling beside her. She opened and closed her right hand, willing the tingles left behind from Ludan’s perusal of her memories to fade.

The bastard. Signing over all she’d inherited from Maxis, including his palatial estate, had been bad enough. Being forced to submit to Eryx’s somo was the worst kind of torture.

Thank The Great One for Thyrus’ intervening gift. Most solicitors had the ability to act as a gateway for memory scans, keeping the browser to the parts of life that were under evaluation and leaving the more intimate details in the shadows.

“I know you’re disappointed not to be fully exonerated,” Thyrus said between choppy huffs. “But considering how things might have gone, you’re really very blessed. Try to look on the bright side.”

“The bright side?” Serena froze. “I’m one misstep away from being cast out of Eden with no powers. No one in my family has so much as raised a hand to acknowledge me, and I have no idea where I’m going to sleep tonight.”

Thyrus patted her shoulder and urged her to keep moving, completely unaffected by her outburst. “Not to worry. I’ve got a few apartments you can choose from for the time being. Give yourself a day or two to settle and see what develops.”

An apartment? Was he out of his mind? Her room at her family’s estate was bigger than most warrior homes.

They turned the corner, the council foyer abandoned but for a few straggling ellan and warriors guarding each door. A slow steady burn started behind her chest. This wasn’t how things were supposed to turn out. She was meant for more. Greatness. Power. Not driveling behind her solicitor and accepting his handouts.

The doors opened and the late afternoon sun washed over her, warm and soothing. A step up from the dark confines of the warrior training grounds where she’d been held.

A respectable crowd waited, not a crush, but at least fifty people up close and several others in scattered huddles further away. Maybe another hundred.

She moved to the first of the council steps and two people moved in on her right.

She halted, and her hand jerked to her throat. Not just random watchers, but her mother and father. Their heads were held high, proud smiles on their faces, the picture of support and concern.

“What are you doing here?”
she asked her father, smoothing her expression to mask her surprise.

Reginald wrapped one arm around her shoulders and guided her down the steps.
“Why, supporting my beloved daughter, of course.”

The four of them navigated the crowds, Thyrus leading the way.

“Odd, I didn’t notice any support while I was locked up, or through the trial.”
Outwardly, she might be the epitome of grace under pressure, but she made sure her disgust was evident in her tone.

“That was before you built a following.”
He handed her a news flier folded to accent the header of the top story.

Reginald tightened his grip on her shoulder, more of a warning than anything born of affection.
“Chin up, dear. You’re a bit of a blooming celebrity. Have a mind to how you use it.”