So, they had thought they could break into his house when he wasn't there? Those stupid fucks. Sebastian smiled as he boarded the plane that would, eventually, get him back to New Orleans. Alexa thought he had relented and was taking her home. By contrast, he was simply moving them to where his prey had hidden. If that happened to be his so-called abode, then even better.
He wondered how many of them he had managed to kill with his electrical bursts. As he found his seat and sat down, he couldn't help but wonder if his luck was finally changing. It was always a matter of time with these things. Alexa sat down next to him, smiling. Her eyes darted quickly around the plane.
Sebastian knew why she did that even if she didn't know it herself. She still thought she felt an Outsider watching her. That was ridiculous, of course. He would certainly know if one of them was around before she would. The woman didn't even know that's what they were—Outsiders. She continued to call them Cult Members and, if he had his way, she would continue to do so until the day he ended her life. He blinked at that last thought. Perhaps enough of them were dead now and he could get on with helping Alexa draw her last breath.
She buckled her seatbelt and took a deep breath. Maybe she'd felt one of the Outsiders leaving this world and going on to his or her next one. They were sure to face a massive amount of disappointed losers. There had been so much hope that the Outsiders could beat him. He smiled at that. Nothing felt as good as shoving the presumptions of those who had always been on the opposite side of the fence from his family down their own throats.
His first Outsider kill had been Samuel Quinn. Now who was dead?
"The presence is still with us, Seb." Alexa sounded tired. He really didn't give two shits.
He rolled his eyes. "You need sleep."
"No, I'm telling you…"
He interrupted, unable to stop himself from raising his voice. "You don't tell me anything, got it?"
"What?"
"I don't need to listen to bullshit. I have no time for it. Now, I've told you that there is nothing here. Nothing. Go to sleep. You'll feel better in New Orleans."
Alexa's eyes got huge. "Why are you talking to me like that?"
"Just go to sleep."
She slumped down in her seat, her eyes away from him. Alexa was correct. He had never, ever spoken to her like that before and with good reason. Before today he'd needed her to believe in him, to have no doubt that he was a prince who had rescued her from a fate worse than death.
Sebastian had to be the good guy to Alexa. Otherwise how on earth could he have made Gabriel out to be the evil one? Now, however, it wasn't going to matter what she thought. Let her stew and wonder. She should have doubt and pain before she died. Fucking Outsiders. He couldn't wait until every last one of them was gone from the Earth.
He'd made the right decision hooking up with the Twelve. They had resources his human self just didn't have.
"You've been acting so strange. I'm just trying to tell you that there is someone here, a cult member or something."
He bit down on his tongue until it bled. Finally, he spoke. "On an airplane? There is a hidden cult member on the airplane?"
She nodded.
"Alexa, I think we might need to get you some sort of mental evaluation."
She flinched like he'd struck her, which was why he had said it. The years she'd spent in and out of foster homes had been filled with horrendous mental health workers. Alexa would never think a psych evaluation was anything but torture.
"But?"
"Are you crazy, Alexa? Are you?" He stared into her dark eyes. A true Outsider in possession of her true powers, supported by her Unit would tell him where he could go. The fact that she flinched showed him how far she had fallen. And he loved her pain.
"Sometimes I feel like I don't know you."
"Or maybe you know me too well." He closed his eyes. Maybe she didn't like what she knew and what that meant about the decisions she had made over the years.
"You really won't believe me?" He didn't have to open his eyes to know she would have a desperate look on her face. "After all we've been through?"
"Nope."
When he got back, he needed to make sure he thanked the Twelve. They were the best minions a demon could ever want.
* * * *
All he could hear in his apartment was the ticking of the clock on his mantel and even that seemed too loud. There had to be some kind of rhyme or rhythm for why he got sent to the places he went. Christophe leaned back in his chair. If he could figure out what that was then maybe, just maybe, he could figure out how to control his movements or even use them to locate Leonardo. That had to be the ultimate goal.
So far, as much as he could tell, since he'd moved to the United States, he'd appeared in Ruby's bedroom, which had been a huge surprise, but that had only lasted a matter of seconds. He'd appeared in someone's house where Leonardo and others were being held captive. That experience hadn't lasted long enough for him to speak to an unknown woman and to call some people for help. Then, just recently, there had been the incident with the ghost.
Three separate traveling experiences, all quite different from one another. Why him? Why did he get sent to those places?
"Maybe you are asking yourself the wrong questions."
Christophe jumped to his feet. "Who's there?"
He swung around, arms raised, ready to fight anyone who presented themselves, if need be. But there was no one in the room.
"What the hell is going on?"
"Always such a disbeliever. You would think a person who can see and speak with ghosts would have a little more faith." The strangest sensation of a hand passing over his cheek jarred him and he jumped backward.
"This isn't funny. Whoever or whatever you are, I demand you show yourself now." Christophe rushed into the kitchen and grabbed a knife from one of the drawers. He wouldn't be defenseless in his own apartment.
"Do you think you can stop me with something as benign as a knife? You can't even see me."
"So, stop being a coward and show yourself."
"All right, brother, as you wish."
Brother? Christophe blinked as a man appeared before him. One second there was nothing but his leather couch and coffee table in the middle of his living room, the next—whoosh—a dark-haired man in his early thirties sat on that couch with his feet perched on the edge of the coffee table like he belonged there.
Christophe charged forward, knife in hand. "Who are you?"
"If you make any attempt to strike me with that thing, I'll just vanish again then you'll be shit out of luck for finding out what's going on."
"You come into my home, play games like this, and dare to tell me what I should and should not do?" Christophe saw red spots in his vision. He had no idea who this man was but he wished to do physical violence to him.
"There you go, showing that French aristocratic temper. Find your sense of humor, Christophe, I know it must be buried somewhere in there beneath all of your posturing and snobbery."
"Who are you?" Christophe was going to give this fellow one more minute to state his intentions and then he'd show him what his French aristocratic temper could do.
"My name," the man stood up and had the nerve to mock bow, "is Colin Knight. You don't remember me at all?"
"Non." Although that didn't seem to be exactly true. Somewhere in the back of Christophe's mind there was a nagging sensation that he had, in fact, met Colin somewhere before. Like he had a memory somewhere that included Colin but he couldn't access that information no matter how hard he tried.
"Don't give yourself a headache, Christophe. We have too much to do and too little time for you to get a migraine over this."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Insolent asshole.
Colin walked forward, his eyes roaming the room as if he assessed the value of all Christophe's possessions. Christophe could almost see his mind calculating everything. Five dollars for this, twenty for that.
"It's to
o bad you don't remember me because I remember you quite well, which has always seemed odd to me. Even for what we are, we were babies when we last saw each other."
"Babies?" This was a most frustrating conversation and Christophe wondered if perhaps he missed intricate things he should be picking up because of the language issue. He spoke almost fluent English. Every once in a while, he understood something incorrectly.
"That's right. We're brothers. Twins, actually. But you definitely got the better deal in terms of where we got dumped."
* * * *
Drew closed his eyes. He hated flying and as a person who had to spend a lot of time on the run, he'd been doing it an awful lot lately.
"Can I get you anything, sir?" He looked up at the stewardess. She was an older woman with graying hair and friendly eyes. A nice change from the staff on the last flight. That woman had looked like she was two seconds away from having a nicotine fit.
"No." Unless the flight attendant could give him a new start to life. One where he didn't fuck everything up when he was eight years old so he could never be happy for the rest of his life.
"Let us know if there is anything you need."
He smiled again, although it made his face ache. The muscles were no longer used to the action. It felt like a strain.
It helped that he'd spent a fortune on the first class ticket but he'd needed to get back and that had been what was available. The flight staff should be nice to him for what he'd paid. Maybe he should request something like a drink.
"Cheer up, things could always be worse. You could be me."
He jumped, staring at the seat next to him. It had been empty when they'd taken off. Miami to New Orleans wasn't a popular trip in the first class section but now, seated next to him like she belonged there, was Marina.
She leaned her head against the side of the window, staring at him from the corner of her eye. Drew had never been so excited to see anyone in his entire life. He had no idea how she'd ended up on the plane but she was there. That was all that mattered. Joy filled his soul as he reached out to stroke her dark hair.
His hand passed right through her and he gasped.
"Yep." She nodded, looking put out and scared at the same time. "I'm dead."
Marina turned to look at him straight on. His heart clenched as he saw the sorrow in her eyes. Sudden grief for all that could have been if he'd been able to make different choices threatened to overwhelm him. She was dead. Staying away from her to keep her safe had fixed nothing.
Drew closed his eyes from the sadness that he knew would never end.
"Pretending I'm not here does not make this any better on either of us."
She'd misinterpreted the reasons behind why he'd closed his eyes. Marina always took what he said or did differently than he wanted her too. He seemed unable to make any sense when he was in her presence so most of the time he said as little as possible. Now there was so much left unsaid.
He opened his eyes to stare into her dark depths. Maybe for the last time. "I don't want to pretend that you're not here, Marina. I want to be dead with you."
She blinked rapidly at his words and something, an emotion he couldn't work out flashed in her eyes, before it disappeared. He'd never opened his mind up to Marina; never let himself wander around in hers. There were parts of her he would never understand.
"You say that to me now? After you've spent our entire acquaintance running from me?"
"There are things." Drew's words stuck in his throat. He had to swallow before he could speak again. "That you'll never get. Parts of me I have no choice but to keep hidden."
"Sounds like a poor excuse for intimacy problems, Drew."
He raised an eyebrow. This was not the time for laughter but what she just said had two very different meanings. He knew what she meant but did she? "Intimacy problems?"
She shoved at his shoulder, which he couldn't feel and made her groan. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Drew. You didn't want me that way either."
"Oh, yes I did. Still do, even as you're dead."
Marina gasped. "You do?"
"Sir? Are you okay?" Two flight attendants stood next to him, one of them wearing a smirk, the other a concerned expression of near panic. So much for thinking they were a nicer crew than the flight he'd just been on.
"Um." He choked. "I'm fine. I was just talking to…"
"They can't see me, Drew." Marina sounded amused. "Dead, remember? You're seeing me as a ghost. They can't. Outsider abilities and all that."
"To myself." He spoke louder so he could be heard over Marina even though he was the only one hearing her. "I'm an actor. I was practicing lines. Sorry, if I scared you."
"Oh." Both the stewardesses laughed as they spoke in unison.
The whole scenario would amuse him if he wasn't certain that he was about to lose Marina forever. How would he ever continue without her? Even if she'd lived an ocean away he'd known she was there on the planet somewhere.
Could life continue without Marina in it?
* * * *
Ruby couldn't believe that she'd gotten all the way to Maine, boarded a boat, and arrived on the doorstep of a strange looking old house only to find no one home.
She rubbed her nose as another snowflake hit it. The storm had stopped the day before but now it started again. Oh heavens. Maybe she was crazy. A voice in her head tells her the Outsiders need her and that she should show up here in this odd place to help and she does it!
"Hello." She banged on the door again like this time it would make the damn thing open. "Is someone there?"
Well, she was downright screwed. If she didn't get inside before the snow started she'd be dead in no time flat. Freezing to death didn't rank very high on her list of 'to-dos'. As a matter of fact, it wasn't on it at all.
She grabbed the door handle. What was the chance they'd left the place unlocked.
Her eyes widened as it turned in her hand. The door opened with a creak. "All who belong here may enter." A female voice she didn't recognize sounded in the air around her.
Ruby jumped. "Hello?" She called out again even as she knew, instinctually, that the house remained empty. The voice she'd heard hadn't been spoken by anyone there. It sounded like a recording; something meant to play if the right person tried the door.
"Why do I know this?"
So much of what she was doing relied on her trusting her instincts. Not something she'd ever done. She was a historian. Her job—her passion—involved translating texts others couldn't make sense of. Even if she had to teach classics to the occasional freshman class whose combined IQ wouldn't purchase her a stick of gum.
Ruby should've been home doing that and not standing on a doorstep wondering if she should enter a home based on, for lack of a better word, magical instructions. She looked up at the imposing sky. The clouds held low and she had a bad feeling about their intentions. They looked kind of full too.
She bit down on her lip. Ruby might be a California girl but she'd lived in New York long enough to know when a storm was on its way. Even then she had a feeling she hadn't seen real snow living in New York City. Not like she was going to see on a deserted island in Maine.
Maybe if she'd made a better decision about coming here in the first place she could have avoided going into the house but now she had no choice at all. The boat that had dropped her off had left before she'd even turned around. Not to mention the snooty captain who had charged her an arm and a leg to travel such a short distance. Apparently the locals didn't like this place.
Ruby couldn't blame them.
She stepped into the house. The lights were off but the brightness from the outside lit up some of the front hall.
"I'm friendly. I'm foolish to be here but I wish no one any harm." She called out, knowing no one could hear her. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry in this regard.
Not getting shot by an irate homeowner was high on her agenda, like not freezing to death.
A large chandelier hung
down from the ceiling. It looked to be made of crystal but then she wasn't an expert. Maybe it was just fancy glass. She tugged her jacket closer around her. When the people who lived here had left, they'd turned off the heat.
The good news? There looked to be a working thermostat on the wall and she was inclined to turn it all the way up. Well, maybe not all the way. The owners might not like it when they came back if she'd done that. Their gas bill must be extraordinary living on this island. It had to cost a fortune to heat this place.
Other room. The words traveled over her like a whisper in the distance. It looked like her guide was back to speaking to her. Well, either she was being led or she was a lunatic. She preferred the first thought but would gladly seek out help if it turned out to be the second. Ruby didn't ever want to make a trip like this again.
Of course the house had been here. Just like the voice in her head had said it would be.
"Oh, what the hell." She walked forward in the direction she felt her instructor had wanted her to go. Eventually, she left the massive hallway and entered a study. It felt warmer. The hallway had been chilled but the temperature was comfortable in this room.
A book lay open on an old oak desk. As she watched, it closed itself and reopened on the first page.
Ruby pointed at the book. "You brought me here to read that?"
Even as she asked the question, she knew better. They'd brought her there to translate it.
Chapter Thirteen
Don't tell me you're getting nervous, now?
Eden rolled her eyes at Samuel's question. It's perfectly normal for me to be nervous about this kind of thing.
She hoped. It's not like she'd ever pretended to be a hostage before. But, she steeled her back, she could do this. She'd seen herself all but accomplish the task, which helped her fear. Sort of.
Still time to back out, if you want to.
She knew that was true. If Eden said she wanted to turn around and run home, Samuel would do just that. Even as there was part of her that found that idea appealing, she knew she couldn't even contemplate such an action. Marina and Leonardo counted on her. Whatever dysfunction they existed in, they were her family. The only real family she'd ever had.