Broken (Book 1, The Watcher Chronicles, Paranormal Romance) (24 page)

“Let us know if we can be of any help,” Malcolm tells us before phasing himself and Malik on their run to
Paris.

“Those croissants must really be good,” I say.

“They are pretty delicious,” Mason agrees.

I’m not sure what to do next.  Since Malcolm interrupted
the rather intimate moment between Mason and me, it just seems like the mood has been broken for the time being.

“I should go check on the soup,” Mason tells me.  “Why don’t you stay up here and see if you can focus your thought
s, kind of like meditation if you’ve ever done that before.”

“
Took a yoga class once,” I admit, shrugging.  “I’ll give that a try.”

Mason grins at me and leaves the room to go check on his soup.  I sit back down on the sofa and assume the lotus position.  It’s the one thing I remember from the one
and only yoga class Faison made me go to with her.  With my legs crossed beneath me and hands resting on my knees palms up, I take in a deep breath and try to clear my mind of everything except finding the other humans who are archangel vessels like me.

I focus my mind on the crackling of the fire, letting the sounds guide me along the surface of my thoughts without thinking of any particular one thing.  I’ve always had trouble
keeping my thoughts along one linear path.  They’ve always acted like living creatures having minds of their own jumping from one aspect of my life to another without me consciously being aware of where they were going.  Now, I’m forcing myself to clear my mind so I don’t have any of the regular white noise to distract me from my purpose.

As I listen for every pop
from the fire, I begin to hear a distinct hiss.  At first I think it’s just part of the noise of the fire but soon realize it isn’t.  I focus on the sound to see where it leads me.  Like a dream, a scene opens up in my mind with white smoke swirling around a solitary figure with a blue spot light shining down on him giving him a ghostly glow.  It’s a man but he’s facing away from me making it impossible for me to see his face.  His arms are lifted at his sides and I hear the guttural beat of music fill the air.

I hear the ring
tone of my cell phone and involuntarily jump, breaking the trance I was in.  When I open my eyes, I see Mason standing at the entrance to the room with his arms crossed over his chest, leaned against the frame watching me.  He quickly searches his pant’s pocket and pulls out my cell phone.

“Hi
Lynn,” he answers, walking towards me.  “Yes, she’s fine.  Would you like to speak with her?”

Mason hands me the phone and I immediately feel guilty.  I hadn’t even thought about calling Mama Lynn o
r Faison to let them know I was ok.

“Hey, Mama Lynn,” I say, waiting to see how upset she
is with me for not calling her as soon as I woke up.

“Oh, Jess,” she says, relief in her voice.  “I was worried sick about you,” she
tells me.  “Mason called us a few days ago to let us know you had been injured on the job.  We wanted to come see you but he said you wouldn’t have known we were there anyway.  What happened?”

The question cat
ches me off guard.  How much should I tell her about my dual identity?  I decide to skirt the issue for now.

“I just came into contact with something and it had an adverse affect on me.”

“Something alien?” She questions, knowing since the Tear opened we had been inundated with advanced technology and strange flora and fauna.

“Something like that,” I tell her.  “You know I’m not allowed to talk about some
of the things I see.”  Which is true, but I’m using it as an excuse in this case.

“Oh
, I know.  But you’re better?  I don’t need to worry anymore?”

“I’m perfectly fine,” I reassure her.  “I’m sure I’ll be home soon.” I look up at Mason for confirmation and he nods his head.

“Will you be back by New Year’s Eve?  Faison’s arranged for you girls to have a spa day.  She thinks it might loosen you up for your date with Mason.”

My eyes glance in Mason’s direction as he still stands beside me
, and I hope he hasn’t overheard Mama Lynn’s last statement.

“One second,” I tell Mama Lynn holding the phone down to my still folded legs.  “Will I be home by New Year
’s Eve?  Faison wants us to go to the spa that day before I go to Angela’s party.”

“I would like you to stay here until tomorrow,” Mason says, concern on his face.  “Just to make sure there aren’t anymore episodes with Michael.  But I’m sure you can make your date with Faison.  I’ll
make sure I have you back in time.”

I lift the phone back to my ear.  “Tell Faison I’ll be
home by then.”

“Ok, Jess.  I’ll give her the message.”  Mama Lynn pauses for a long time and I know she wants to ask me something.

“Was there something else?” I ask, giving her an in to voice her question to me.

“
How are things going with Mason?” She tries to ask casually, but I can tell she wants to know if I’ve decided to take her advice concerning him.  It seems like everyone is trying to make me face my feelings for Mason even when I’m not quite sure what those feelings are exactly.

“Things are going good here,” I say, making sure I avert my eyes away from Mason’s direction in case I inadvertently make another Freudian slip.

“He made sure to call us twice a day you know,” Mama Lynn tells me.  I can hear how impressed she is with his thoughtfulness towards her and Faison.

“I’m glad
to hear that,” I say, letting my eyes drift back over to Mason.

“Well, anyway, I’m just glad to hear your voice.  Give me a call when you make it back home.”

“I will.  I’ll probably be back tomorrow.”

“Ok. See you then.”

“Bye, Mama Lynn.  I love you.”

“Love you too, baby.”

As I end the call I unfold my legs and stand up to slide the phone into my back pocket.

“Thank
s for letting them know I was ok while I was unconscious,” I say to Mason.

“I didn’t see any reason for them to worry unnecessarily. 
If I thought you had been in any real danger of not waking up, I would have brought them here.  I know how important they are to you.”

“They’re my world,” I tell him, wondering if its time I let one more person
be included in the small microcosm I’ve made for myself.

“I was watching you while you were meditating,” he says, no
t apologizing for his voyeurism.  “It looked like you were concentrating on something or I would have made my presence known.”

“I saw some
one,” I tell him.  “A man.  He was standing in this white smoke.”

“Fog?”

I shake my head.  “No, it was like that smoke that comes out of a smoke machine.  There was a blue spotlight on him and music playing but he had his back to me.  I wasn’t able to see his face.”

“Did you recognize the music?”

I shake my head.  “I have no idea what song it was.  But it did sound like something you might here on the radio.  Unfortunately, I don’t listen to a lot of music on the radio.”

“It’s a step forward though,” he says, full of encouragement.  “Whatever you did seems to have worked.”

Mason holds his hand out to me and I slip one of mine into his.  Besides my father, Mason’s the only other man I’ve ever held hands with.  The close contact feels so natural between us I don’t even try to second guess myself for accepting it without question.

“First, I think you should come down and have some soup.”

Surprisingly enough, my stomach agrees with him.

“Then I think you should go back to your room and get some
more rest,” he continues to instruct.

“I’m not tired,” I say, even though I end up yawning right
after I say it as if my body wholeheartedly disagrees with my words.

Mason smiles.  “Soup then bed,” he orders, leading the way to the kitchen.

The moment I taste Mason’s chicken soup, I agree that his is the best I’ve ever eaten in my life.  I eat two bowls of it one right after the other.  When I’m finished eating, Mason leads me through the maze of corridors inside his villa back to my bedroom.  The closer we get to the room, the heavier my eyelids feel making me wonder what magical properties Mason’s soup actually has.

Once
in the room, I lay down heavily on the bed.  I’m vaguely aware of Mason tucking the quilt around my body before I fall to sleep.

  In my dream world, I find myself back in my mother’s garden and Michael waiting for me in the gazebo.

“I see you’ve had a bit of success,” he says to me as I sit across from him in the gazebo just like the first time we met.

“Yes, I think I’ve had a glimpse of the person I’m supposed to find,” I tell him.  “I’m not going to sleep through another two days by talking with you again, am I?”

Michael shakes his head
with an amused grin.  “No.  You only slept that long the first time to allow your mind to make room for me.”

“Make room for you?”

“My conscience has been inside your mind since you were born but not fully awakened until now.  There are neural connections which need to be made in order for me to come to you when you want to speak with me.  Each time you sleep, new connections will be made to make it easier for you to contact me even when you aren’t sleeping.”

“Are you going to eventually take me over?” I ask in worry.

“No,” Michael reassures me.  “I would never do that to you.”

I breathe a sigh of relief at the news.

Michael smiles at me.  “I’m glad to see you’ve taken my advice about Mason.”

“He didn’t really help me,” I say.  “He ended up being more
of a distraction than anything.”

“Yes, but the fact you let him in and see some of what you feel for him did help you
connect with that part of yourself you try to hide away.  I seriously doubt you would have been able to connect with the other vessel otherwise.”

Michael’s smile fades.  “
You know, I’ve worried over Mason for a while now.  He holds onto his guilt like a blanket sometimes, using it as an excuse to not get close to anyone.  You are not the only one in this relationship who has been hiding behind a protective wall.  Mason’s added bricks to his wall for hundreds of years to a point where it’s more like an unshakable fortress.  If anything, his reaction to you surprises me more than yours to him.  I’ve kept watch over him since he was exiled here, and I’ve seen him hide from the world to a point where I never thought he would find a reason to rejoin it.  It was only his willingness to help Lilly when she asked that brought him back to the land of the living.  I sincerely hope his growing feelings for you are a sign he is on his way towards letting go of his guilt.”

“Me too,” I say, remembering what Mason said about his scar.  The scar d
oesn’t bother me in the slightest but it seems to bother him tremendously because of what it represents.

“So this
God of yours,” I say.  “How could He have been so cruel to Mason and marked him with that scar?  I thought he was supposed to be all loving and crap.”

Michael’s eyebrows lower as he glowers at me.  “Do not speak of
Him with such disrespect,” Michael warns.  “Our Father is like any parent.  He loves us beyond all reason but when we do something wrong, it’s that love which pushes Him to punish so we can learn from our mistakes.  If you have a parent who doesn’t push you to be the best you can be, that is not a parent who is doing you any favors.  You have to have discipline in your life or you will flounder and never find the true path that leads to your destiny.”

“I’ve never had much
reason to have faith in Him,” I say, finding my statement ironic considering I’m the vessel for an archangel.  “I think you know the reasons why.”

Michael lowers his eyes
to the floor of the gazebo, unable or unwilling to meet my gaze anymore.

“I’m sorry for what you went through,” Michael says.  “
I’m sorry you lost your parents at such a young age, and I wish I could have helped prevent your uncle from using you in such a vile way.”

“
Losing my parents wasn’t your fault, but why weren’t you allowed to help me with Uncle Dan?” I ask, feeling my temper begin to flare because being mad is easier than crying.  “You were inside me.  Why didn’t you do something?  Why not turn him into a pile of ash like you did that demon?  He was just as bad, if not worse.”

“Because Dan
is human.  A demon I can smite but not a human.  I suffered with you during those times you were abused by him,” Michael tells me, a glistening of tears cloud his electric blue eyes.  “You were never alone, Jess.  I was always with you.”

“A hell of a lot of good that did me,” I say, feeling my eyes burn but I refuse to cry.  I cried far too many times because of what Uncle Dan d
id and I refuse to let him take any more of my tears.  “Why would your God let me go through that?”