Blood Promise (A SkinWalker Novel #4) (A DarkWorld SkinWalker Novel) (45 page)
T
HE
L
ETTER
I
SAT
ON
my bed, staring at the piece of paper. Only a single sheet had been contained within the envelope that Jess had given me. She'd promised me a gift and what I'd received was the last thing I would have imagined.
I glanced at the words again, and managed a small smile. A little ray of hope entered my bleak life.
I bent my head and read the words one more time.
In the Dark World, when the night is black,
When darkness looms, to swallow you whole,
A quartet of courage will bring forth hope,
And reach across the planes to save heart and soul
She who shreds the Veils and she who hunts the Demons,
She who mend Minds and she who speaks beyond the Grave
And she who bears the face of all - these five shall be as one.
For they are the saviors of the DarkWorld, they are the Niamh...
The poem could mean only one thing, as far as I could understand it. a SoulTracker, a DemonHunter, a Mind Mage, a DeathTalker and a ShapeChanger; Mel, myself, Darcy, Nerina and Cassie- we were the Quartet of the Niamh.
And we had our work cut out for us.
To be continued . . .
The SkinWalker Series
&
Also in the DarkWorld
The SoulTracker Series
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Want more of the DarkWorld? Try BLOOD MAGIC!
Read
Blood Magic – Book 1 in the SoulTracker Series
BLOOD MAGIC – A DARKWORLD SOULTRACKER NOVEL #1
1
My phone buzzed and I grabbed it from the seat beside me, while keeping my eyes on the road. I flipped it open, gave it a quick glance and raised my eyebrows in surprise. Martin Cross. Desperate father in search of his missing child. Something I knew a lot about. I'd just taken his case, a stressed mechanic whose kid had disappeared into thin air months ago. A case I'd assumed would be pro bono considering he didn't appear to me to have exceedingly deep pockets.
He was confirming my payment had been deposited and I should see it reflect in the account tomorrow. For once, I was happy to have pegged someone so wrong.
I threw the phone back on the seat and peeked at the rearview mirror. It never hurt to be cautious considering I'd pissed off enough paranormal criminals in my time, but no one was following me.
***
I drove to the outskirts of town, wondering again why I bothered with these visits. I could hear Drake's voice. "Why do you waste your time? The man probably doesn't even know you're there."
Drake Darvon was my best friend and my sparring partner. He was also a gargoyle. Real live blue-blooded in-the-flesh gargoyle. Drake didn't realize I went because I needed to. Because something deep inside me drew me to Samuel.
I pulled up in front of the house, a part of me refusing to enter the grand old house, the other part wanting to rush in there and take Samuel away from it all. To take him away and fix him and make him whole again. It still felt like my fault, even though everyone, including Samuel himself, insisted it wasn't. But if I hadn't been so persistent, if I hadn't wanted to find Ari so badly and finally bring her body home for some closure, maybe Samuel would still be whole. Maybe he would still be around to guide me.
Not that I needed his training anymore, though. Samuel Fontaine had once been the Master Teleporter. There was only one person who exceeded him in his ability to cross the Veils and enter the Other worlds. And that was me. A secret only Samuel and I knew. Both Omega and Sentinel could never be privy to that piece of information. Samuel contracted to both organizations so he was allowed on occasion to do his own search and rescue jobs. Storm had arranged for Samuel to train me, to help perfect my astral projection, thus putting in motion a friendship of a lifetime.
But Samuel couldn't be hoodwinked. He'd forced me to admit my front as an astral projector was a sham. Then he'd taken it upon himself to train me to teleport better. How to jump better, faster, smarter. And to this day he was the only one who knew exactly how powerful I was. How far I could jump, how strong my self-protection was, that I could move through most magical wards.
I rested my head on the steering wheel. Maybe I should just start the car and go home. Maybe Drake was right and coming here only made things worse for me and for Samuel. No. I punched the steering wheel, as if it was Drake arguing with me. I'd come this far. And Samuel deserved some company. I got out of the car, controlling the urge to slam the door shut. Fishing in my jacket pocket for my keys, I jogged to the porch, as if by walking any slower I would give myself the chance to change my mind.
Beneath the elegant French columns, with their flaking paint, I hesitated only a moment before I slipped my key into the lock, the rest of the bunch jangling against each other as I moved. I was about to turn it when the giant oak door swung inward so hard I had to let go of my keys or go flying inside with them.
Cassia stared at me, her honey-gold eyes as expressionless as she could make them. "Hello, Melisande."
"Hi, Cass." The skin at her eyes tightened. She hated it when I shortened her name. But it didn't matter. She pretty much hated everything I was and everything I stood for, all on account of the fact I ruined her life. I wasn't in the mood for a stare down so I tugged my keys from the lock, and took special note of the dark glare Cassia gave them, as if I had no right to have them. I brushed past her and headed for the stairs.
"He's not taking visitors," she said, her voice dripping ice as she pushed her tightly spiraled curls away from her face.
I stopped, my foot on the first stair, my hand on a banister badly in need of staining, and glanced back at her. I smiled sweetly. "Well, good thing I'm not a visitor then, isn't it?" I watched as blood rushed to her dusky cheeks. She smoothed her skirt down, tamping down her anger with the same action. I really shouldn't bait her. She did take care of Samuel. But I could care less if she left. I'd just hire someone else to look after him. I turned my back on her and left her to stew in her fury, taking the threadbare stairs two by two, knowing even Cassia would disapprove. Poor Cassia. Samuel's niece hadn't inherited his teleportation powers, and being born normal into an almost entirely magical family was a great burden to bear. The problem with Cassia was she bore it with vicious anger.
Sighing, I pushed Samuel's door open and walked silently to the table by the window. Today, he sat in his rocking chair beside the open bay windows. White gauze curtains billowed on a soft breeze and he seemed to gaze out at the trees but I knew he saw nothing of the view. My heart twisted for him.
I drew a rickety chair close and sat beside him. "Hello, Samuel," I said, taking his hand in mine. His skin was papery thin, the fingers bony, muscles weak and wiry. His hand twitched as I held it and I smiled. I knew he knew when I visited.
Samuel Fontaine was not an old man. He was in his late thirties, not the age of a man who should be lingering in a rocking chair. I stared at his once handsome face, high cheekbones now jutting out too far, and gorgeous green eyes now faded to a pale luminous non-color.
But sexy Samuel's been gone a long, long time. Ever since his brain got scrambled doing a jump for Melisande Morgan. What a way to go. My fingers tightened on his and I had to force myself to remember his frailty. I began to pull away when his fingers gripped mine with an intensity I hadn't felt in months. My heart stuttered as I stared at him, eyes wide.
"Mel?" his voice rasped, as if he hadn't used it in years.
"Samuel? Yes, it's me." I nodded and smiled, tears threatening to overflow.
He blinked, his expression slightly unfocused. Then he frowned. "Are you eating? You look skinny."
I snorted. "Don't worry about me. It's you we are concerned about. We need you back Sam-sam." I leaned close and he placed a palm on my cheek. The curtains billowed into the room, white clouds surrounding us in this impossible dream.
"I know, baby. But I'm not done yet," he said, smiling. "The girl . . . She needs me."
My stomach tightened. "What do you mean?"
A few seconds of silence crawled by as Samuel studied my face with far away pale green eyes. "Patience, Melisande. And don't forget what I taught you," he said softly, his voice fading. "Don't forget . . ."
"Samuel?" I called him, but I knew he was already gone and my heart ached for him.
"He spoke to you?" Cassia's voice rang out, so bitter and cold it dropped the temperature in the room by a few degrees. Maybe the woman was magical after all.
"Yes." I whispered, still holding on to his hand. He'd spoken. He was still there. And what had he meant? 'I'm not done yet?' What did that mean?
"What did he say?" Her question broke through my thoughts, an angry tide breaking onto my happy, grateful shore.
I looked up at Cassia and grinned. "He said I was skinny. And he told me not to forget what he'd taught me." I didn't see any reason to tell her the rest. I suspected she'd overheard the last of Samuel's words so that's just what I gave her.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Cassia snapped, her honey eyes flashing. "He hasn't been lucid for months, and you waltz in and he just talks to you out of the blue and says don't forget what he taught you?" She snorted, hands on her hips, eyes wide. "Who the hell do you think you are? You just come in here whenever you feel like, say whatever you want and then leave him to me? Who do you think looks after him? And he talks to you?" Her laugh was hoarse, underlined by a deep bitterness.
I watched Cassia, her anger an almost palpable thing. She was struggling with her own burdens but all I wanted to do was to slap her as hard as I could across the face.
"You know what? I'm a bit tired of your whining and moaning. I know you've had it tough but we all have our own bloody demons to deal with. As far as I'm concerned you can just suck it up." The color drained from her skin and I was certain she wasn't sure whether to be shocked, upset or angry. "Take Samuel for instance, he's way worse off than you. Maybe someday we will have him back – from what he said today, I am hoping his condition is temporary and wherever he is he's okay and he will come back. But until then we have to wait. So quit feeling sorry for yourself. If you feel this is all too much and looking after Samuel is a burden, then by all means leave. I'm sure we can find someone else to take care of him."