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Philadelphia
WHEN HE EMERGED from the rift, Pellus found Barakiel sitting on the bank of the river in the late afternoon sun with a number of scruffy cats around him. Pellus approached with a cheerful step. He’d been forbidden to visit the Earthly Realm and was surprised by how much he enjoyed ignoring the prohibition.
I seem to have been infected by my warrior’s taste for rebellion.
Though risky, the trip was necessary. The two Covalent needed to discuss how they would convince the Council to return Pellus to his duty as Barakiel’s traveler, and the local followers of the false monks were still out there. More important, Pellus did not want the task of blocking the Corrupted from coming through the axial rift left to any other traveler. Barakiel had defeated them once, but it was by no means a given.
“I will never understand your affection for those creatures,” Pellus said, gesturing to the cats who moved off as he neared.
“Have you ever seen a cat hunt? They have the pure focus of the natural predator.”
“You have your notions.” Pellus sat beside the warrior. “We need to discuss how we can get me back to my rightful duty.”
“Honestly, if I continue to fight the way I did during my last battle, I think they will grant my request to have you as my traveler again,” Barakiel said. “I think it would help if the Guild were to vouch for you, and you were to stay on your best behavior.”
“You mean, like not sneaking off to the Earthly Realm when I am supposed to be with Jeduthan?” They shared a smile before they discussed what this best behavior should entail, for the adept and the warrior.
“So, have you been able to make any progress in the search for the false monks’ followers without me?” Pellus asked.
“No. I am not good at that like you are.” Barakiel stared at the ground and dug at the dirt with his foot. “I have the name of the business agent for the entity that rented the house. I need you to infiltrate its computer system.”
“I cannot do that until I am reassigned as your traveler,” Pellus said. “I doubt it will be before the equinox.”
The two Covalent watched a ship make its sluggish way downriver as Barakiel recounted the conversation with Osmadiel at the feast. Pellus sighed with relief before he noticed Barakiel rubbing his forearm.
“All right,” he said. “What is bothering you?”
“Uh, the terrible things I said about Jeduthan.” The warrior gave him a sideways glance from under a furrowed brow. “Will she forgive me?”
“You should make it right with her as soon as you have the chance.”
Barakiel gripped his forearm, his discomfort unabated. Pellus told him not to worry. “She will forgive you,” he said, rising to leave.
“I hope you are right.” Barakiel did not look convinced. He blinked a few times. “Zan is coming here in a little while,” he said with sudden enthusiasm. “You should wait and say hello. She was overjoyed when I told her we had resolved our differences.”
The adept sighed again, although this time it was not with relief.
If I want him to make it right with Jeduthan, I suppose I can say hello to Zan.
“I am wearing robes. She will find it odd.”
“You have clothes here. You can change. And do not forget to make yourself seem older.”
Zan arrived a half hour later. Pellus sat with Barakiel at the kitchen table. They rose as she entered.
“My love. Pellus waited here to say hello, though he cannot stay long.” Barakiel kissed her, running his hand down her arm to clasp her hand in his. What Pellus saw nearly caused him to fall back into his seat.
What in all the realms?
When Zan had come through the door, Pellus adjusted his perception to see only the surfaces of things so he would seem less strange to her. But when Barakiel touched Zan’s skin a burst of energy brought the phenomenon screaming to his attention.
They vibrate in time! Guardian save me, their energy communicates! How is this possible? Has he transformed her somehow?
Pellus lowered his eyes when he saw Zan react to the quality of his stare. Fortunately, Barakiel had not seen his reaction because he was still gazing at Zan. He squeezed her hand, exciting their components once more. Zan’s energy answered her mate’s. They were in harmony. The adept’s mind raced.
He must have done it to her. Love. I am looking at love. I thought he was deceiving himself.
“Wonderful to see you again, Pellus,” Zan said. She shook his hand. Pellus tried manfully to quell his confusion.
“Lovely to see you, Zan. I hope you have been catching many criminals.”
“Not so many lately, but we will persevere. How about you? Things going well in the business world?”
“August was unusually busy. I expect Barakiel and I will have even more to do this month.” He hoped his agitation had not crept into his voice. He glanced at the clock over the kitchen sink. “Oh, look at the time. The cab will be here any minute.” He hesitated and looked around.
My robes.
“Pardon me, Rainer, but I think I left the package I need in your guest room. Let me fetch it.”
“I’ll get it.” Barakiel walked off before Pellus could stop him.
Zan took a deep breath. She smiled weakly. “I’m so happy that you and Rainer resolved your differences,” she said, a slight quiver in her voice. “I know you have your doubts about this relationship, but he seemed kind of lost without you. I was worried sick about him.” She gave Pellus an earnest look. “I hope you know I don’t ever want to come between you.”
“I know. Do not worry. The last thing I want is to cause him pain. He has had enough of that in his life.” Pellus spoke with a gentle tone but he wanted to shake her.
And thanks to you, his worst pain is yet to come.
“Yes. I can see it sometimes. Take care of him, Pellus. And really, you don’t need to worry about me. I have good intentions. I love him.”
Guilt crept in to replace Pellus’ anger, along with a whisper of tenderness that surprised him.
After all, none of this is her fault.
“Your love is becoming quite plain to me, Zan. I am sorry for all that has happened.”
“We can get past it,” she said, his words lighting her up.
He has given himself to you. If I told him what I see, he would tell you everything. I cannot allow it. Forgive me, Zan.
The elevator couldn’t move fast enough for Zan. She shifted her weight back and forth on her feet, drawing glances from her fellow passengers. She was anxious to begin her video conference with Marie Joselet, the inspecteur général in Aix en Provence.
Almost a month had passed since Grenat, the FBI’s legal attaché, had sent the dagger south. Zan had exchanged numerous telephone calls and emails with Joselet. The day before, she had finally received the anxiously awaited message. Joselet had something to tell her.
When the doors opened on her floor, Zan bolted to her office. Mel was already there.
“Slow down. You’ll spill your coffee.”
“I’m all excited this morning.”
“Ah, yes. The mysterious Madame Joselet and her cryptic email. Good luck.”
A few minutes later, Zan greeted Joselet through her computer screen. Her curly black hair and dark eyes were complemented by perfectly applied coral lipstick.
“Nice to see you, Agent O’Gara.”
“Nice to see you as well. How are things in the South of France?”
“Very well, thank you.”
“I can’t tell you enough how much I appreciate your efforts on our behalf. I know it’s not your job.”
“It’s our pleasure. My colleagues in Paris know Monsieur Grenat. They like him very much,” Joselet said with a faint smile. “I think you’ll be happy with our results. We have questioned Archibaud. He told us he thinks the men who bought the daggers live not far from the city of Arles, in the Camargue near an old abbaye. He described the men, but they paid cash, so he doesn’t know if they gave their real names. They bought sixteen of those daggers. Archibaud said the price was more than €20,000. Who pays that much in cash?”
“Criminals.”
“I would say so.”
“Do you think Archibaud is involved?”
“No. I think he only did this work for them.” Joselet reached for a folder and held it up. “We checked his background. No trouble with the law. He is religious and he, er, goes to Church functions. Helps with them. What would you call it?”
“He’s active in his Church?”
“Yes, active. In his Church, in his town. Even so, he wasn’t happy to speak to us. At first, he seemed afraid. When he found out we were police, he was relieved.”
“Do you think he’s in danger?”
Joselet shrugged. “Who can say? We have asked the district police to watch his shop and his home.”
“That’s good.” Zan took a sip of her coffee, nervous because she had no way of knowing whether a trip to the Camargue was a huge pain in the ass. “So, will you go to the Camargue? Or ask the local police?”
“I will go. A visit to the Camargue will be nice. Something different. It’s not far.” Joselet told Zan that she would enlist the help of the local police as well. The marsh was mostly empty, so if they were there, Joselet was confident she would find them.
“And then, Agent O’Gara, we will see what they have to say for themselves.”
Barakiel surveyed the place settings. They looked imbalanced in the corner of the huge table, but he liked the flowers he had bought for Zan. Ivory blush roses.
Soft and inviting, like her skin.
For the first time, he’d cooked Zan dinner. He hoped it tasted as good as it smelled. When she came in, she hugged and kissed him so exuberantly that he grabbed her shoulders and looked at her with a question in his eyes.
“Remember I told you that the legal attaché said the auction house in Paris had identified the man who made the daggers?” she asked.
“Yes, I remember.”
“Well, the police in Aix en Provence questioned him. He told them where they can find the men who commissioned the daggers.” Zan danced around, rubbing her hands together. “They bought sixteen blades and paid in cash. Definitely up to no good. This is it. We’re going to find these fuckers.”
Before he could get a handle on his expression, Zan asked what was wrong. He looked down and said the only thing that came to mind.
“You didn’t even notice that I made dinner.”
“Oh, honey,” Zan said with a tender-hearted laugh. “I’m sorry. I’m just so excited. And it’s thanks to you. All because of you.” She pulled him down, covering his face with greedy kisses. The feel of her velvet lips and her intoxicating scent threatened to make him hard. He quashed it. He needed to find out what else Archibaud had said.
I should not be so nervous. If he had told the police about us, she would not be acting like this.
“You would have found them on your own, my love.” Barakiel hoped he appeared enthusiastic. He had to be careful. Every day, he grew less able to hide his emotions from her. “I’m so happy for you,” he continued. “Did he give you any other useful information?”
“Yes, lots of great stuff,” Zan said. “He thinks they live near some old monastery. He physically described them and said they call themselves monks, but they’re not like any monks he’s ever heard of. He’s afraid of them.”
Without thinking, Barakiel loudly exhaled. Zan squinted at him. He saw his mistake.
“Good, ah, even better. Anything else?” he asked.
“What’s up with you?” Zan tilted her head, still squinting. “You look like you just found out the tumor is benign.”
“I’m glad I didn’t fail you.”
“My sweet, sensitive soul, even if your information had gone nowhere, you wouldn’t have failed me. I told you before, none of this is your responsibility.” She reached up to push a piece of hair away from his face. “You’re not depressed again, are you?”
“No, I’m not depressed.”
“Good. Then tell me why you’ve been acting so wacky. You and Pellus. When he was here last week he stared at me like I have six heads. It’s been bothering me ever since.”
“I wasn’t aware my behavior has been strange. As for Pellus, his behavior is always strange.”
“Right.” Zan took a few steps away from him. She looked over at the fireplace. “Why did he come here last week?”
Anxiety lit up Barakiel’s brain. All his set excuses deserted him. He stood there stupidly. Zan wheeled to face him.
“Are you going to answer me?”
“I’m thinking.”
“Jesus Christ. What is there to think about? Just answer the goddamn question.”
He couldn’t lie anymore. If he tried she would know it, but his silence fed her fury.
“I am so sick of this!” she said. “You are hiding something from me. Maybe a lot of things. You go on these business trips. Why can’t I talk to you on the phone at night when you’re in the hotel? I just get these weird texts and emails. They don’t sound like you. Do you even write them? Where the hell do you go? I can tell you one thing, they’re not fucking business trips. Not legitimate business, anyway.”
Thoughts crashed through Barakiel’s mind like wild horses.
I have to tell her. Balance help me, it cannot be now. I need Pellus as my traveler. I must fight the demons at the equinox. If she leaves me, I will be a mess.
“You have nothing to say? Unbelievable!” Zan paced. When she got back to where he was standing, she stepped in close and peered up at him.
“Are you a criminal?”
“No, I’m not a criminal!”
“No?” Zan walked behind the kitchen counter. She noticed the pots and turned off the gas burners. “What is it then? You passed our background check. Someone is helping you. Witness protection? Foreign intelligence? Alien race?”
Her desperate humor at the end was like a rope around his throat. He kept his eyes on the floor and took the long way around the counter to get to her. He reached for her hand. She let him hold it as she gazed at him, unblinking.
“I am hiding things from you, Zan. Many things.”
“Yeah. Tell me something I don’t know.” She hung her head. “I tried so hard to convince myself I was wrong,” she mumbled, withdrawing her hand from his and pressing it to her mouth.
“Remember when I told you about Patrick?” she asked, sounding like a little girl. “And you said you tried to save someone, too? You said you weren’t ready then, to tell me that story. But you never told me. I waited and waited, but you never told me.”
Pain and guilt speared his chest. He’d been so unfair to her.
“Be patient with me, my love. I will tell you everything. I want to, more than anything, but I need a little time.” Anger crept into her eyes. He cupped her face, desperate to forestall it. “I love you, Zan. You know this is true. Please give me a little time. I’m in a difficult situation right now, but I’ll make it right. Less than two weeks. That’s all I need.”
Zan expelled a weary sigh and pushed his hands from her face. “You expect me to go on for the next two weeks like nothing has happened? Like we never had this conversation?”
“Yes.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you love me.”
An extraordinary look crossed Zan’s face, some potent mix of anger, tenderness and resignation. “Christ,” she said, casting her eyes to the ceiling. “For a man with secrets, could you have picked a worse girlfriend?”
They looked at each other, then burst out laughing. They laughed for a good, long time. When they had exhausted their frantic mirth, Barakiel kissed her hot face and took her hands.
“Do you love me?”
“Yes, I love you.”
“Do you trust me?”
“I trust you.”
“Enough to give me time? Enough to believe that I have good reasons for my secrets?”
“I shouldn’t,” she said. “But what can I do? I’m weak-in-the-knees in love with you.”
Relief washed through him. He filled his kiss with all the longing and admiration he felt for her. When they parted lips, Zan couldn’t speak for a second or two.
“Your dinner,” she finally said. “I think it’s ruined.”
“Ah, who cares?” He kissed her again.