The Lost Soul Trilogy (Primani Book 5) (78 page)

“Let me help you,
please
. I can’t stand to see you like this.”

He scowled and tensed up. “Like what? Violent? Angry?”

“I was going to say terrified. What are you afraid of? I see it in your eyes. I can feel it in the air around you. You’ve been dreaming again. You’re distracted…haunted. What’s freaking you out?”

He glared into my face and started to yank his hand away but I resisted. Instead of arguing, I just looked into his eyes and offered my own to him. Come and look, I thought. You know what’s in there. I trust you.

His face was tortured as he whispered, “I can’t remember…there’s something I need to remember, but I can’t. It’s a shadow; a half-formed thought...It’s making me crazy.”

“A dream?”

“No, it was real. I feel it. I know it was real, but I can’t see it!” He jerked his hand away and rubbed at his face. His heart was racing so fast I could feel it against me.

“Maybe I can help. We can fix this. We’ve worked miracles before. I know we can figure this out.” He was tensing against me and I was getting desperate again. “Sean, stay.”

He pushed me back and staggered to his feet. He said, “I don’t understand you at all. Why do you want to help me? You don’t owe me anything.” He turned and said brokenly, choking on the bitter words, “Jesus, Mica, our baby is dead! Our
son
is dead. It’s my fault. I can’t make that right. I can’t…” He sucked in a ragged breath. “I can’t look into your eyes and know that you see the ugliness inside of me. I can’t hide from you. You see too much.”

Flinching at the rawness of his voice, I took his hand again. “I love you! I’ve always loved you! I would do anything for you. Damn it, Sean! It wasn’t your fault!” He pried my fingers off of his hand.

With surprising gentleness, he picked me up and carried me to my bed. I tried to struggle but a familiar paralysis seeped into my bones and I hung limply in his arms. He kissed me very carefully on the mouth and leaned his forehead against mine. The rhythm of his heart filled my head as he touched my face in silence.

His black eyes held my gaze, unfathomable in the darkness.

He was so far away from me.

My heart broke into a thousand pieces and I whispered, “No, Sean, please don’t.”

With a sigh, he said, “Don’t look for me. I don’t exist.”

THE MELANCHOLY SOUND of church bells drifted through my head. They rang clearly in the misty gardens of my dreams. I tossed and turned trying to escape the fog. But it clung persistently…swirling around my ankles as I ran along the winding stone path. The dream refused to let me go. Running lightly, I shoved a branch out of my path and followed the sound until I saw it. There. That’s what I was looking for. Grey tendrils of ivy swallowed the side of the tiny stone church. It sat at the end of a narrow driveway now overgrown with summer grass. The mist swirled around the base of the church making it float above the earth. My ears rang with the calling of the bells…inside, outside, echoing and surrounding me.

They led me here.

They
drove
me here.

The bells called me to this place. Why? What was here for me?

The church was bare, dreary--A simple stone church. I hesitated on the front step, unsure if it was open.

“Don’t be afraid.”

A shiver crept over my skin. I knew that voice! I turned slowly, my smile only half formed; I was wary of being disappointed. So many times I looked for him…so many times he was gone. I turned with a tiny flame of hope burning in my chest. But the churchyard was empty. Disappointed, I spun around and looked everywhere.

I was alone.

“You’re never alone,” he said quietly, his voice rusty from disuse.

Whirling back around, I scanned the shadows. The mist spun and turned in the chilly morning air. The trees dripped with dew as the first pale rays of sunlight warmed the ether. The bells had stopped. I was where I was supposed to be.

“Will you stand there forever?”

“Where are you?” I called out. The brume was nearly gone now and the shadows were lightening. I peered under my hand but still didn’t see anyone.

“Just go inside.”

The voice came from the other side of a sprawling pink rose bush. Its tiny blooms climbed voraciously up the side of a leaning wrought iron fence. There he was! Why was he hiding from me? What stupid game was this? I marched around the bush ready to confront him. As I turned the corner, I stumbled to a stop against the base of a statue. Startled, I stepped back and looked up.

It was Sunday. I knew this because my cell phone said so. I paced the house ready to kill someone, anyone, but preferably someone named Sean. He was gone. Of course, he was gone!

I had been asleep for days again!

I tried to swear creatively in Latin but couldn’t remember the right words.

Semper Fi
…that’s all I could think of, and that wasn’t a curse. I had to settle for English and called him every filthy name I could think of. My parents would be horrified.

He had vanished and who knew where he was now. He had a two-day head start. I had no way to follow him. But Killian could.

Killian? Will you please answer me? Don’t make me use technology!!

The low tone of his voice vibrated softly inside my mind when he answered my plea.
He’s gone, isn’t he?

You know?

Yeah, I had a visitor. You okay?

Not really…

Did he hurt you?

It’s not that. I screwed up. I let him go. I couldn’t hold him!

If it’s possible for telepathy to have volume control, his voice went up to a shout.
This is not your fault!

Can you come to me? I need a hug.

Silence.

Killian? Can you come to me?

Sorry, babe. I can’t right now. You have to meet me in Paris.

What? Who says?
That’s not what I wanted to hear.

Raphael says.

Oh…crap. That changes everything. I can’t argue with him.

I still need a hug.

Pack up and get to Paris. I’ll hug you then.

After that promise, he was gone. I sighed and got to work. There wasn’t much to pack. I rummaged around and found a backpack in one of the closets. It was army green and black. One strap was torn and dangling. A rusty stain splotched across one side of it. Awesome. Who’s blood? Geez. I’m surrounded by blood these days.

Choosing to ignore the blood, I dug through the pockets and found a 6-inch utility knife and a small Leatherman. The rest of the pack was empty except for a worn out t-shirt balled up in the bottom. Curious, I unfolded it and caught my breath. It had once been red but was faded from sun and saltwater. The logo was still there:
Rip Curl
…My eyes watered and I held the shirt to my face and breathed to capture his scent again. The fishy tang of the sea filled my head…and a faint green scent that brought his face to life. Oh, Dec. Where are you? His lopsided grin filled my vision and I nearly reached out and touched him. Surely he couldn’t be dead? He had to be somewhere, right?

With a heavy heart, I shoved my clothes into the backpack. Sean hadn’t bought much on his little shopping trip. Other than that white dress, he’d picked me up a pair of jeans and a hoodie. I packed my commando clothes and donned the jeans and Dec’s t-shirt. I slung the hoodie around my waist. The combat boots weren’t negotiable. They had steel toes and I wasn’t going anywhere without them.

I was ready to go but not sure what to do. I stood in the living room thinking over my options. The laptop was gone. Sean had taken it with him. In its place was a brown envelope. I sifted through the contents with mixed emotions. He hadn’t left me stranded after all. He’d left me a passport and a plane ticket from Shannon to Paris. He’d left me a credit card and some Euros too. At the bottom of the envelope was a note. I scanned it. Not believing my eyes, I read it again. That’s it? That’s all it says? I’d hoped for an explanation, an excuse, an apology…something! But there was none of that. It just told me how to get to the airport.

One of these days, I was going to strangle him.

The landing at Charles DeGaulle airport in Paris was smooth enough. The wheels bounced twice and we rolled up to the gate. It was 1:00 in the afternoon and my stomach growled to remind me I hadn’t filled it since the apple I had for breakfast. I shuffled off the plane with the rest of the sheep and moved off to the side to get my bearings. The airport was packed with travelers who all must be late judging from their frantic pace. People flowed past me like a raging river…surging forward and bumping into anyone who moved too slowly. No one was happy to be here, I guess. No one smiled.

I was alone in the crowd. This wasn’t the first time.

I found a restroom and tried to do something with my face. The image in the mirror scared me and I shuddered at it. My face was thin and pale, cheekbones sharper than they should be. The purple smudges under my eyes only emphasized the exhaustion I felt inside. My blue eyes were unremarkable today. They just sat there waiting for another disappointment…

Okay, Mica, get it together! It was time for a pep talk, I thought sternly. I couldn’t stand to wallow. There were a lot of things I couldn’t do anything about. I had no control over pretty much anyone other than me. I took a good long look at my face and got to work. 

I could do something about this.

I washed my face and added some makeup. I didn’t have much, but Sean had bought me some eyeliner and mascara for our little undercover charade. He never really liked eye shadow or foundation so he hadn’t bought either. I would’ve liked some shadow, but this would have to do. I took time to brush out my hair and stood looking at it from all angles. It was heavy and wavy down to the middle of my back. Maybe I needed to cut it again. Hmm. Musing, I lifted it into a ponytail.

The woman at the next sink tapped her manicured nails on the counter and said, “You have such sexy hair! Leave it down for your man so he can drag his fingers through it, eh?” Her accent was light. French? No, I didn’t think it was French. Italian?

She was tall and gorgeous and dressed like a supermodel. Glancing self-consciously at my jeans, I felt plain beside her. She smiled at me and pulled my hair through her hands, twisting it into different looks. Finally, she pulled out some pins from her purse.

Ten minutes later we both grinned into the mirror. She’d worked a minor miracle. Thanks to her help, my dark circles were hidden and my hair was artfully curled and pinned into a messy bedroom style that flowed down my back. With a sweep of delicate color over my pout, I was ready to rock a porn movie. Killian would have a stroke.

On impulse, I hugged her and said, “My boyfriend will die when he sees this! Thank you so much!”

Laughing gaily, she kissed me on both cheeks and said, “We ladies must stick together! Keeping our men is an ongoing battle, no?”

Killian’s smoldering eyes came to me and I had to grip the edge of the sink to keep from falling over. Fanning myself, I laughed with her. Keeping him wasn’t the problem; keeping up with him was! 

After a minute I explained, “I’m supposed to meet him in Paris. But I don’t know where to go. Do you know a café that’s easy to get to? I can call him from there.”

Taking my arm in hers, she led us out of the ladies’ room. “Come with me. I have just the place. Let’s go.”

An hour later, I was perched on the edge of a white wrought iron chair outside of
Clair de Lune
. The adorable café sat on a busy side street in the middle of Paris. The air was heavy with the smell of rain and flowers. Exhausted, I inhaled the fragrance and sighed. Roses filled my senses and I fingered a petal on the pink bloom that stood alone in the miniature vase on the table. Entranced by its simple beauty, I held it against my nose…perfect. Sipping my mineral water, I gazed around me.

Paris! The most romantic city in the world!

Soon Killian would come and sweep me out of here and everything would be all right. I could see us walking through these streets, stopping to admire the pretty buildings and gardens. He would pull me into a handy alcove and kiss me until I was dizzy with wanting him…

“It is a tragedy to find such a beautiful woman sitting alone.” A flirty male voice interrupted my pornographic daydreams. Before I could protest, he pulled up the other chair and straddled it.

Startled, I stared while warning bells clanked through my head. Tall and broadly muscled, he overwhelmed the tiny chair. He was good-looking with an underlying ruthlessness that I had seen before. His features were heavy…more rugged than I was used to though. He had a heavy brow bone and deep-set eyes that reminded me uncomfortably of Scott Flynn. His wide mouth curled into a cocky grin that spoke louder than words. He was used to getting what he wanted. With a small knot in my stomach, I looked into his eyes. They were blue. Of course they were.

He had ‘Primani’ written all over him.

Even his shaved head and hoop earring couldn’t hide the supernatural current running through his blood. I felt the thrumming from across the table. Encouraged by my silence, he leaned closer to me.

“I won’t be alone for long.” I glanced around. No Killian in sight. “I’m meeting someone,” I said pointedly.

Smiling good-naturedly, he brought my hand to his mouth and kissed it with a flourish. His mouth lingered just a hair too long to be considered polite. “Allow me to keep you company until then. I’m Rivin.”

“Rivin?” Rivin sounded like a demon name to me. I rubbed my hand suspiciously, but it wasn’t burning or doing anything unusual. He looked mildly insulted when I dunked a napkin in my water and wiped it off. “Are you French?”

Rivin threw back his head and laughed. The people next to us turned to stare. A young waiter raised an eyebrow at me. I shrugged. He shook his head and moved along.

Rivin said, “French? God, no! I hate the French; bloody sanctimonious bastards, all of them!” His voice carried and several people grumbled nearby.

Okaaaay. The accent was definitely British. Not French.

Waiving a huge hand at the waiter, he ordered a beer and offered me one. “Come on,
cherie
, have a drink with me. We’ll celebrate.”

His cajoling tone was charming and I found myself relaxing. “Okay, I’ll bite. What are we celebrating?”

His eyes lingered meaningfully on my lips and he murmured with a wolfish grin, “The best night of your life.”

“Not even close,” Killian said behind me. His tone was harsh, but the hand he rested on my shoulder was gentle. He squeezed it affectionately.

“Walk away, Leahy. This isn’t your business.” Rivin stood up, knocking his chair over.

“Wrong. Mica is
all
my business.”

All conversation stopped and people scattered like pigeons. Alarmed, I stood and wrapped my arms around Killian. Leaning up, I kissed his cheek and said, “You’re late, baby. I was getting worried.”

“It couldn’t be helped, Princess.”

Incredulous, Rivin looked back and forth between us and said, “No! Tell me this isn’t Mica.” He gestured at my porn star hair and general cuteness and complained, “
This
is your charge?”

With a wicked grin, Killian answered, “Oh, she’s much more than that.”