Shades of Gray: A Jude Magdalyn Novel (4 page)
Warm water dripped on my back and I hissed at the sting, the small pain temporarily clearing my mind. Williams’ hands were gentle as they washed the blood off and as the air came into contact with the open wounds I hissed again. Pain on the level I was experiencing meant a lot of opened flesh.
“I don’t think it’ll scar. They seem to be more surface wounds than the full monty, so to speak.”
“For these small miracles,” I muttered. When the room was quiet enough I could hear a drop of water roll off my back and drip on the floor, I sighed. “Talk. Now.”
“Very well.” The direction of Gillian’s voice put her to my left, most likely perched on the toilet. Since it would have been more disconcerting to stare at her shoes than just listen, I kept my eyes closed and my head turned away. She had a good voice, one for stories, and it made me wonder idly if she had any children.
“Your mother was a member of an… organization, for lack of a better word, as was your father. More than a religion, it was a way of life. One open to those with… gifts.”
She paused and I sighed again, prompting her. “Gifts?”
“Those with the power to see, to heal, to communicate with other worlds, to call the elements and spirits. More than either voodoo or Wicca separately, a compilation of the two. What worked was kept. What didn’t was tossed aside. The Covenant was born of the results.”
“The Covenant?” Apparently I was more injured than I thought I was. Not only was this making sense, it sounded familiar. “It’s a myth. It doesn’t exist. Half the kids on the street who are convinced they have psychic powers talk about the Covenant. Nobody has ever actually known a member of it.”
Williams smoothed something thick and gel-like over my back. I bit my lip to keep from whimpering at how good it felt. His voice was once again cultured and controlled when he spoke. “Over the past quarter century, the Covenant has lost a number of members due primarily to the fact their power source was absent.”
I could feel myself getting drowsy and realized there must have been some sort of sleeping aid in the balm. I should have been furious, but couldn’t work up the energy for it. “What’s the power source?”
The last thing I heard before sleep washed over me was Williams’ low chuckle. “You, Jude Magdalyn.”
The sound of glass breaking
and a man cursing woke me up. I was still more asleep than awake, lingering in the moment when everything in the world seems like a dream and you could lay in bed forever. Something always happens to ruin the moment - and today proved no exception.
I swear, I felt like a small inferno raged on my back. I’ve never been set on fire, but take the little tingle of pain you get from a match burn, magnify a hundred times over, and you’d be close to understanding what I experienced. I’ll admit, I let loose a girly shriek. But hell, if I couldn’t make the pain stop, I was damn well going to vocalize my discomfort.
I was struggling to sit up and keep the sheet in place when Williams came around the edge of the repositioned folding screen. Whether it was my continued pain or the sight of his very appealing chest, I panicked. I grabbed the closest object, which happened to be a cast iron paperweight from my nightstand and hurled it.
Faster than I could blink, Williams ducked. The paperweight sailed over his head, crashed into the wall and left a good sized dent before thudding to the floor. I would have cursed the loss of my security deposit, but squealed instead when Williams launched himself from his crouching position pushed me back into the mattress and pinned my wrists.
“You make me wonder if this alliance is worth the headache, Jude Magdalyn.”
“Well, somebody should have thought about how I’d feel waking up with a strange person in my apartment, especially after the crap that happened last night.” The sheets were rubbing my back, which hurt like a bitch. I prayed none of the wounds reopened and I wound up with blood on the sheets. Something told me I wasn’t going to have time for laundry today.
Williams’ face was close enough I could have counted his eyelashes, which were long and thick enough to make most women green with envy. Up close he was even more striking, soft curves and angles blending together in a way that was beyond amazing. His lips parted slightly, the breath coming from between them blew gently across my cheek.
I was so absorbed in studying his face it took me a moment to realize he was only using one hand to hold my wrists against the headboard. I wondered briefly where the other one was then felt his fingers glide down my jaw line. His touch was warm and I shivered slightly. He smiled, more a mischievous curve of the lips, and I trembled - and not because it was cold in my apartment.
“I thought you didn’t need to breathe.” Distracting my hormones through insane questions seemed a good idea. I wasn’t sure if I wanted it to work or not.
“I don’t. I choose to make the motion to appear more human than I am.” Williams moved back, using his hand on my wrists to pull me to a sitting position. I gave him points for not trying to lower the sheet. I wasn’t entirely sure how I would have responded. “Now, let’s see what all the fuss was about, shall we?”
Awkwardly, I twisted around to give him my back, pulling my hair aside to give him an unobstructed view. I bit my lip and whimpered when he ran his hands over the wounds with the whisper of a touch. His quiet sigh told me whatever was back there wasn’t great.
“Apparently what they say about healers is true. You may be harder to injure, but your injuries are harder to heal.” The bed shifted, and footsteps headed toward the kitchen. Clearing my throat, I called out, “Are you going to explain your statement or do I have to guess what you meant?”
His muttering drifted to me from the kitchen along with the sound of cabinets being open and shut. A thought occurred to me while I waited for him to come back and do whatever he thought needed doing. “Didn’t you mention to what’s his name, Hart, that he’d made the same mistake two hundred years ago?”
“A little closer to two hundred and fifty.” Williams’ voice rose in volume as he returned. I started to turn but the twisting motion set my back on fire again. I grimaced and settled for staring in the bureau mirror. He settled behind me with a wooden bowl, my basting brush, and some torn fabric. I hoped it wasn’t one of my good kitchen towels.
“Hart, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, is a vampire. I am also. We were turned by the same man, who recently decided he’d had enough of life, after six hundred years, and impaled himself. The will dividing up his businesses and territory, as well as naming his successor, is mysteriously absent.”
“And let me guess. The two possible heirs are yourself and Hart.” I shook my head, careful to keep my back straight. The nuns would have been so proud of me -mostly. Except for the wearing a sheet and being in bed with a relatively stranger part. That wouldn’t have gone over so well. “Please, tell me this isn’t just an inheritance dispute.”
“You would be correct. This is much more than an inheritance dispute.” I watched as he stirred whatever was in the bowl a final time. He paused for a moment, brush half-raised, dripping with some thick, gelatinous mixture. “This may sting a bit, but seeing how the balm last night did little good, it might be prudent to try something else.”
“No pain, no gain, right?” I attempted a laugh, but ended up making a sound like a dying rat when he swept the brush down my back the first time. “Ok, that’s more than a slight sting.”
“As you said, no pain, no gain.” I watched his reflection as Williams bit his lip in an effort to not smile and I decided I wouldn’t punch him in the jaw at the first opportunity. “Perhaps you’d like to hear more about the situation and your role in it.”
“Gee, one would think I hadn’t been asking questions along those lines for the last half a day or so.” If you can’t laugh or fight it off, drown it with sarcasm. “So far, there’s feuding vampires, the Covenant, which has always been deemed fictional, dead parents, and some other freaky shit. Maybe we can start tying it together.”
“You forgot the proposed alliance.” I almost ground my teeth at his mild-mannered tone, but remembered grinding my teeth gives me a headache.
“Roughly twenty-six years ago, when your parents were hand fasted, word of the Prophecy resurfaced.” Another brush stroke and I gave up trying to be stoic and twisted my hands in the sheets.
“The Prophecy. Is it a requirement that everything sound mysterious and archaic, or do people just like it like that?”
“Probably a little of both. Either way, the Prophecy stated someone with no past, lost in the present, will bring in the future through gifts of this world and the next. Your father was an orphan who, until he met your mother, had been a feckless wastrel.”
“So people assumed the Prophecy was in reference to him.” Now that Williams had put the first layer of goop on, my back didn’t seem to be as much of a pain pit. He started over, spreading the ointment on thicker. His calm voice lulled me into a semi-relaxed state.
“Some did. Fearing what would happen if he came into full power, for his gifts lay with visions and contacting the spirit world, they tortured and left him for dead. None of the healers of the Covenant could do anything.”
“Did they ever catch the people at fault?”
“Some of them. They refused to name the rest of the conspirators, despite much… persuasion.” The way he said the word persuasion made me wonder if the Covenant’s interrogation methods were as brutal as the murderers.
“Your mother was grief-stricken. If she hadn’t known she carried you, she might have grieved herself into the grave within a few weeks.”
“And she ended up dying anyway.” I watched in the mirror as Williams set the bowl and brush aside and began laying the torn fabric against my back. He was concentrating solely on his task and his tale, and seemed to miss the irony in my statement.
“Yes, she did. Your mother was a good woman, skilled at healing, but not overly strong. She must have known what the future held for you, though, since she was very specific about your name.”
Jude comes from Saint Jude Thaddeus, the patron saint of lost causes and desperate situations. Magdalyn from Mary Magdalene, the patron saint of women.” Williams pressed gently on my spine, and I bent forward so he could apply the makeshift bandages to my lower back. “Your mother sealed your destiny with your naming and her death.”
I have to admit, it took me a moment. My brain wasn’t functioning at full capacity, probably due to information overload. “Hold up. Are you telling me that this prophecy, the Prophecy, is in reference to me? Cut the crap, no way.”
“Denial is to be expected. But can you deny you have no past and spent the years since you left the orphanage wandering, lost? Can you deny that even if you had none before, you are manifesting power now at an incredible rate?” His voice was reasonable and something about it just pissed me the hell off.
“Yes, I can deny it. I can deny anything I want to. In case you missed the memo, denial is the fifty-first state in the union, and I’m so a resident, especially in moments like this.” I scrambled off the bed, taking the sheet with me, and wrapped it toga style. I had a moment of weakness seeing his perfect body sprawled across my bed but shook my head to clear it. “I don’t know where you guys get your intel, and really, I don’t care, but if you’re looking for someone to step up and be the general in this war you’re hinting about, you’re looking at the wrong girl.”
“This is your destiny, Jude Magdalyn. You have a people, indeed, a city, depending on you to fulfill this destiny.” Williams’ face was urgent, bordering on desperate, as he rose to his knees and gripped my crossed arms. If it had been any other situation he would have had me with the look and the urgent pleading. I’ll admit, I’m a sucker for a good-looking guy on his knees, but this was way beyond ordinary.
“Like I’ve said, you’ve got the wrong girl. Whatever powers I have are probably just proximity related, and I was a ready outlet.” I paused and shook my head at the technical-ness of the statement. “And now that we’ve finished with story time, I think you need to go.”
Williams gave me a withering look. I rolled my eyes. “Right, sorry, the whole daylight explosion thing. Whatever. Go sit in the bathroom or something, just leave me alone for a few minutes. We’ll deal with the fact that I’m stuck with you for another ten hours or so when I’ve had some coffee.”
He slid around me and headed toward the bathroom. I let out a relieved breath but couldn’t hold back a giggle when I heard him mutter, “Americans and their coffee. I will never understand it.”
There’s something calming about
Mass, even when you don’t want to be calmed. You’re sucked into the peace, but when it’s all said and done, you’re better for it. Even if God never comes and speaks directly to you, you feel better for having been in the presence of something bigger than yourself. It’s hard to explain, almost impossible, but here’s hoping you understand what I’m talking about.
After listening to the same words I’d heard throughout my youth, I turned to what had become my new source of outside information. I’m a con artist at the cards. If you had asked me yesterday, I would have admitted this freely; today, I’m not so sure. There are some who have the gift, you can tell by looking at them. When I need help, guidance, whatever you want to call it, I go to Suzanne.
I fake the fortune teller look. Suzanne embodies it. You would think we shopped at the same places, and for all I know we do. It just looks better on her. She was maybe ten years older than me, but looked my age or younger. I’d never seen her blonde hair up, or makeup around her brown eyes. Suzanne was always laid back and natural. And blunt - she almost put me to shame.
As usual, she got straight to the point. “Normally, you would be showing others what they seek. Today, you look for yourself.” Yeah, there’s no moss growing on Suzanne.
“It’s been a rough twenty-four hours. I just need some good news.”
Suzanne studied me for a moment, and then took my hand. She smiled and even though it was friendly and Suzanne, it disturbed me on some level I couldn’t identify.
“Love. It waits for you. All you’ve ever wished for, truly wished for, will be yours.”
Great - like life wasn’t complicated enough at the moment. I smiled back, because Suzanne really can’t help what she’s given to say, but I wasn’t happy about it at all.
Being who she was, Suzanne tried to refuse the twenty I gave her. In the end I won, and headed toward the river and Cafe du Monde. It may have been approaching ninety degrees without the heat index, but I needed more coffee. And beignets - God, did I need a big plate of those. Nothing can be entirely wrong when you have sugar and caffeine flowing through your system.
Unfortunately, I never got my beignets. There I was, minding my own business, until someone bumped into me. Normally, I wouldn’t have cared, but it wasn’t just your normal bump.
On the off chance you ever are about to or have hit someone with a car, don’t slam on the brakes. It’s pretty ugly - there’s no other way to describe it. The brakes lock, bones and internal organs get shifted around in ways they’re not supposed to, and it’s a foregone conclusion - whoever had the misfortune to be on the receiving end of the car is going to die.
All that being said, in retrospect it’s a good thing he bumped into me. Before I realized, I grabbed the man’s elbow and pulled him back onto the sidewalk. He turned to yell at me, but it was difficult to hear exactly what he was trying to say, due to the blaring horn as a car ran the yellow/red light at Decatur in front of Cafe du Monde. In the moment it took him to realize what might have happened he went from yelling to keeling over with his head between his knees. The woman with him, his wife judging by the impressive rock on her left ring finger, knelt next to him, patting his shoulders. It took them a moment to compose themselves and think about the other person involved in their melodrama.
By that time, I was a block down Decatur and lost in the crowd.