Vicki Pettersson - Cheat the Grave

I’d been right about the incense then, I thought, frowning. And the drugs Carlos had given me the first time were disguised in drink…thus calling forth the water room. I didn’t even want to know what I needed to bring on fire.

I tried to meet Hunter’s gaze, but after working so hard to push even the thought of him away, his sudden appearance was jarring. His eyes were warmly intense, destroying the illusion that I’d let go of this man emotionally. I hadn’t. Not even a bit.

As usual, I covered my discomfort with attitude. “So why are you here?” I asked, crossing my arms.

He took in my body language, blinking fast like he too was making a mental adjustment, and lifted his chin.

“We’re both a part of this world now,” he said softly.

“So that means what? I’m at your mercy? I’m trapped and have to wait until you and your wife decide to let me go.”

He tilted his head. “Don’t you have an anchor grounding you back home?”

“I didn’t mean to come here.”

“No wonder she’s so angry.” His brow furrowed, and for the first time he looked unreal, as if the expression was pressed upon his face like putty, altering a moment after he willed it. Did I look the same? “We really are connected…”

His gaze flitted to my lips, then back to my eyes. I thought about the way he’d strung me along, pulling me in until the very end. Even in the moments before forever leaving Las Vegas for Midheaven proper, when trapped in a tunnel before the rushlight that would ferry him to Solange-his wife, his grail-he’d played on our intimacy.

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you. Not even in the darkest corner of that beautiful soul.

No, I thought now. There’s not. But there’s something wrong with someone who could equally want, love, two women. I didn’t believe that was possible, and getting my life back meant letting go of every impossibility. If friends were the family we choose, then it was time to let Hunter go completely. He’d been no friend to me.

“No, Hunter,” I said coldly. “We’re not even from the same world.”

His jaw clenched at that. His nostrils flared. It was a wonderful display of masculine pique. “Who’s Carlos?”

I drew back. “What?”

“Carlos. You called out his name the last time you were here. You called for him to help you.” His voice was so strained it almost made me laugh. Was he jealous? While biding in another world, locked in his new/old lover’s embrace?

“Carlos is a friend.” A real one.

“How-” He broke off and cleared his throat. I thought he was going to ask how long I’d known Carlos, but he switched it up on me. “How long have I been gone?”

“Ten weeks.” And three days.

A shudder moved through his entire body.

“Over here?” I asked, because time passed differently in Midheaven. It ran backward or sideways…by some other means than that which flipped the earth around its axis.

“I’ve counted only two days.” And the strain in his voice meant he’d been counting hard, almost as if the loss of his life on the other side of the tunnel system-the one he’d so freely left behind-pained him. It made me frown.

It made him irritable. When he opened his eyes again, the worry had already been shuttered. “Ten weeks, huh?

Shit, the weather probably hasn’t even changed, and you’ve already found a new ‘friend.’”

“Well, I’m just like the weather, Jaden. You just don’t know when it’s going to change.”

“So what’s the forecast now?”

“Cloudy,” I said. “With a good chance of fuck you.”

“So, the usual,” he said dryly.

It made me want to smile, so I bit my lip against it.

Hunter stared a moment longer before his expression cleared, and then he strode to the table…and poured me some tea.

O-kay, I thought, still casting glances into the surrounding rain forest as I followed and lowered myself to the stone bench opposite him. Inhaling deeply, I scented cloves and leaves and flowers, pressed and steamed into a pulpy death, and realized my sense of smell was still powerful over here. The strong mixture was almost as relaxing as chanting.

“Don’t you have to ask permission to enter the earth room? Get a hall pass or something from the wifey?”

His face hardened as much as it could in its strange putty state. “I stole your gem from Solange’s planetarium. All I had to do then was wait for your return.”

I gave him the same look I would have had he told me Santa was real. He’d stolen from a woman even the other matriarchs in this world feared? “And what would be worth that risk?” I asked coolly.

His returned gaze was funeral sad. It made me feel like I’d been the one to trample what was between us underfoot, which was ridiculous. I should have blurted out then what had happened to me in the time since he’d left, but for some reason I didn’t yet want to confess to him my mortal state. Maybe I’d just have some tea first.

Hunter returned his attention to his cup, but instead of pouring black tea as he had in mine, the same pot spit out a hot, sugary brew of cardamom and ginger and creamy milk. One side of his mouth quirked at my astonished stare as he returned the pot to the table’s center. “You can have anything you wish when you’re dreaming, right?”

“Is that why you look like you?” I asked suddenly, lowering my cup. He was the Hunter I’d known, lithe and coiled strength beneath burnished skin, glossy black hair pulled into a low, blunt club. Jaden Jacks was more imposing, with his shock of bleached hair above a frame so large it almost burst. He was more like what you’d think a superhero would look like. Except, I thought, for those sun-spun eyes. Those hadn’t changed at all.

“In dreams you become as you wish to be.”

I didn’t know what that meant, and it made it sound like this was as much his dream as mine. So I concentrated on what I did know.

“You should have told me who you were,” I said, setting down my cup so suddenly it clattered against its saucer.

“I told you what truth I could.”

“Which part was truth, Hunter?” The part where he made love to me but was thinking of Solange? When he claimed he could tell me apart from any other woman by touch alone? Or was it when he told me the Light inside me was magnified because of the Shadow?

I waved my hand in the air, dismissing the subject before he could answer. It no longer mattered.

Not looking at me, Hunter took a deep breath, then paused. A moment later he tried again. “I once told you drinking almost killed me a decade ago, remember?”

I nodded, but didn’t tell him that I’d read the manual called Dark Matters. That I already knew about the night Solange nearly drove a tomahawk through his chest.

Solange then. Solange now .

“Well, it was really only three years past my metamor phosis. I was twenty-eight, in my prime. I was seduced, blindsided by… her .”

He shot me a meaningful glance, which told me he didn’t want to say Solange’s name. Names had power no matter what realm you inhabited. They could call a person to you, and alert them to your presence. Since he’d stolen a gem from her sky of stars, and was now having tea with the woman whose soul he held, I didn’t blame him.

My own voice fell to a whisper. “And why couldn’t you tell me that much?”

“Warren forbade it. And no one else in the troop knew. Warren wiped the memory of what I’d done from all minds but mine.” Eyes unfocused, he ran a hand over his head, pulling loose a few strands. “That was my punishment for succumbing to a Shadow.”

I believed that. On the night I’d given up all my powers, Warren told me he’d known Hunter would be attracted to me. He said that I, a half Shadow, was just Hunter’s type. Saying nothing, I glanced around the garden-the strange amalgamation of English Victorian and Asian chic-and sighed.