Jesse sighed toward her abandoned plate. The rigid set of her shoulders slackened. She blew out a frustrated breath and ran her hands over her face. “Which means lots of protein and working out?” Despite her words, she still looked doubtful.
“That’s exactly right.” Maddox eyed her again. Damn it, he should be the last man on Earth to be taken in by one of the infected. But he couldn’t stop looking at her; all pale, blond, and tall. Though she looked as fragile as crystal, an unbreakable shell of determination kept her from cracking and shattering.
Despite the odds stacked against her, this exquisite and extraordinary young woman had managed to keep herself alive.
Gut instincts aside, he already knew he’d soon be butting heads with Reyen. In the Indian’s mind-set, the only good demon was a dead demon. He could already imagine the argument his partner would give him: If Maddox was wrong about her control, he might be introducing a dangerous element into the group.
It was a good thing he had his own argument ready. At least, he hoped he did. Somehow he had to convince Reyen that Jesse was exactly what she appeared to be—a frightened woman in a terrible situation over which she had no control.
He’d also have to persuade Reyen that Jesse wouldn’t falter. He was convinced she’d be an asset to their small cluster.
Well, almost.
As one who’d lived well past a human being’s normal life span, he’d learned one thing: Don’t get personally involved.
The rule that had kept him alive didn’t seem to matter anymore. So far he’d bent it to the point of breaking. He wondered how much more flexibility he’d have before his disobedience turned around and bit him on the ass.
Jesse immediately picked up her fork and stabbed at the pile of cold eggs. Shoveling them into her mouth, she forced herself to chew and then swallow. “Tastes like shit.” Another scoop followed. “But I’ll eat until I puke,” she promised.
Maddox shook his head. “Don’t take it that far. Just eat until you’re full. And keep it down.” He glanced toward the clock again. Hmm. He needed to get moving.
Digging out his wallet, he flicked some money on the table to pay for the meal, adding a nice tip for Sassy.
“You going?” Jesse asked between bites.
Snuffing out the remnants of his cigarette, he slid out of the booth. “Yeah, I have to get to work,” he answered with a fatalistic shrug. “Work is the price a man pays if he wants to live on the face of this earth. Can’t afford to lose this job.”
She hung on his every word, nodding. “What am I supposed to do?”
His fingers dipped into his wallet again. He flicked a hundred-dollar bill toward Jesse. “Get a few things you need. Meet me on Bourbon Street around eight. There’s a bar called Big Mike’s. It’s not for tourists, so it’s a little hard to find. There’s no sign, but you’ll know it by the lamp outside.”
Jesse smirked. “Don’t tell me it burns red.”
Maddox puffed out an exasperated breath. “No. It’s green. You can’t miss it.” Sticking his hands in his pockets, he shook his head. Even knowing what he might have to face later, he still couldn’t bring himself to toss Jesse away like so much garbage. Even though he’d known her less than a day, he was attracted to her and felt protective of her. Consequently, he had the overwhelming urge to prove she belonged with his kind. His objectivity, if he’d ever had any since laying eyes on her, was completely shot.
Reyen might have other ideas, he reminded himself. But he didn’t have the heart to mention that to her now.
She popped a piece of bacon in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Is that like your bat cave or something? Where you hang with the slaying crew?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, I hang with the crew there. As for the secret bat cave, you have to earn your way into there.”
She shoved more meat into her mouth. “How do you do that?”
“You make good on your first kill and you get to be in the club. Then you’ll get a button and learn the secret handshake.”
She laughed, lightening her serious features. “I’d rather have a gun and a really big-ass knife,” she countered.
He couldn’t help smiling. “Somehow I think you’ll be getting your hands on both those things soon.”
Chapter 6
A
fter Maddox had departed for work, Jesse lingered in the diner for another half hour. The conversation she’d had with Maddox came drifting back. She had the strength of a demon simmering inside her. Though she’d hardly dared to explore the notion in her conscious mind, she couldn’t avoid listening to the demon shouting in her ear during the long stretch of time between sunset and sunrise. At night, when she was still and quiet and struggling to find peace, the beast inside roared through her skull like a cyclone.
It begged, pleaded, implored, and cajoled her to feed it, to give it a taste of the warm, rich liquid it so desired.
In return, it made promises, offering her the wondrous ability to walk through time unscathed, if only she’d agree. Yes, she would have to feed from the hearts of men. But what did it matter? Such a weak and insignificant race had little value, for had not the Enlightened One given Xaphan and his minions free rein over the realm of Earth?
It was the dilemma of temptation; one mankind had struggled with since the beginning of time. Which side should one choose when faith was shaken and the soul compromised?
She nibbled her lip with uncertainty and fisted her hand around her empty coffee cup, torn between the fear in her past and the uncertainty of her future. Would she still be Jessanne Jane Burke, daughter of Jim and Cheryl Burke, twin sister of Amanda Amy? Would she still have her own mind, her own memories . . . or would crossing over mean the demon gained full control of her body?
An unfamiliar weight lay heavily on her shoulder. A softly accented voice sliced through the chaos in her mind. “Are you all right, honey?” Sassy asked.
Jesse lifted herself with a jerky heave. Her entire body trembled with the effort. Nevertheless, she drew back her shoulders and called on all her inner willpower to appear calm. Her stomach was churning acid.
“I’m okay,” she mumbled, rubbing at her eyes. “Just a little tired.”
The black woman gave her a long look. “You look as if you’ve been places nobody wants to see, little girl,” she said presciently.
A tic of frustration tugged at the corner of her mouth. She was trying to be strong. “You aren’t kidding.”
Sassy offered another pat. “Whatever’s draggin’ you under, don’t let it win. We got a lot o’ trials in this bad world, but you gotta remember this: What don’t kill you makes you stronger.” Rolling her eyes toward the ceiling, she sighed and added, “I just hope this fallin’down place isn’t the death of me.”
Her words resonated.
If that’s true . . .
, Jesse thought. Then she stopped herself. No. Not yet. This wasn’t the time or the place.
Later, she’d think about it—when she had some time alone.
Right now she should get going. She’d wasted enough time.
Sassy scooped up the money Maddox had left behind, then picked up Jesse’s empty plate. “You want another cup of coffee, honey?”
“No, thanks.” Jesse eyed the hundred-dollar bill Maddox had left for her. Earlier she’d folded it into a little square and set it aside. A part of her felt guilty for accepting the money. Maddox obviously worked hard for the cash. Like so many others, he seemed to barely scrape by, living on the fringes of what could rightly be called poverty.
That was his choice, though. He’d said as much. There were more important things to spend money on than a nice apartment and a sporty car. Besides, did material possessions really matter in this world? The flooding from the hurricane should have taught people a lesson. All an individual truly had were the clothes on his back and the determination to survive.
The rest was immaterial.
Realizing that she needed to think about something else, Jesse snagged the bill. She had a lot of hours to kill before meeting Maddox, with no place to go and nothing to do.
She might as well shop.
Sliding out of the booth, Jesse stopped long enough to ask the cashier working behind the register to break the bill down into more manageable bills, mostly ones and fives. Waving good-bye to Sassy, she headed out onto the street.
The neighborhood that had looked so ominous and unwelcoming the night before simply looked sad by the light of day. Any decency or dignity the place might have possessed in the past was long gone, probably never to return. The Northside Ward had taken a bad beating from the hurricane. More than half the area had already been abandoned before the storms hit. Poor blacks and immigrant laborers desperate for homes, but unable to afford housing in other areas of the city, had risked flooding and disease to build their lives here. Isolation from the rest of the city and lack of adequate drainage systems had contributed to its slow growth. Those who’d dared to try to survive in the poverty-ridden area had mostly been driven out by the floodwaters.
The few who had returned to try to reclaim homes and businesses were struggling. It was a region of the city that would never recover.
Eager to leave the decay and desperation behind her, Jesse decided to head for the Lower Ninth Ward. A walk of a mile and a half took her to a bus stop. Service still hadn’t been entirely restored through much of the Orleans Parish, so her options of places to go were limited.
She took a seat at the back, facing the door, just like Maddox. Nobody was ever going to sneak up on her ever again.
The bus listed into motion with a chug and a sigh, its wheels rolling over cracked asphalt.
Jesse looked out the window, hardly recognizing familiar landmarks as they came into view. So much had changed since she’d last seen the neighborhood she’d grown up in. Lacing her fingers together, she kept her hands in her lap. One thing she’d already decided was that she wouldn’t go home. She didn’t want to see what condition their old house might be in. Moreover, she didn’t want to think about the past. Despite the hardships her family had faced, the Burke family had, for the most part, been a happy one. Both her parents worked hard to provide for her and Amanda. Jim Burke taught classes in English literature at the local community college. Her mother checked groceries at the local Save-a-Lot.
As for her and Amanda—well, what could she say? They were normal young women. Both of them had graduated, moved into their first apartment, and gotten jobs. They weren’t making a lot of money, but they were making ends meet. They ate a lot of Ramen noodles and raided used-clothing shops for vintage pieces they could swap with each other to double their wardrobe.
And like most young adults out on their own for the first time, she and Amanda liked to stop by the local pub to hang out, maybe have a few drinks, and shoot some pool.
It was all just innocent fun.
Jesse closed her eyes.
If only we hadn’t gone out that night
, she thought,
Amanda would still be alive.
The bus lurched to a stop, reminding her it was time to disembark. Though hardly spared by Katrina, the area she’d chosen was rich with small businesses, which included a lot of mom-and-pop corner stores. Many of the buildings were old and probably should have been demolished years ago.
Crossing the street against the light, Jesse headed toward one of the many consignment shops populating the area. A shop, dubbed Secondhand Rose, caught her eye. Experience had taught her that the smart shopper could often snag new or nearly new items for a fraction of their original cost in such places. One man’s trash was another man’s treasure, and the strangest of oddities sometimes turned up.
A little bell tinkled when she pushed open the door. The first thing that hit her was the smell. A musty odor permeated the air, thick, damp, and unpleasant. Though much of the merchandise had been replaced, the walls and ceiling still showed water damage. The ugly linoleum laid over bare concrete was cracked and peeling. Rack after rack of clothing stuffed the small space. An air conditioner propped in one back window labored to beat back the rising temperature. The late summer months were notorious for high humidity and even higher temperatures.
At ten o’clock in the morning the shop was relatively deserted. A salesgirl reading a rag sheet raised her head. “Anything you’re looking for?”
Jesse nodded. “Jeans,” she answered. “Preferably men’s.”
The girl pointed vaguely. “Over there,” she said before returning to her magazine.
“Thanks.”
Jesse made a beeline for the men’s clothing section. It wasn’t that she enjoyed dressing like a man, but their clothes were simply made to last longer than women’s.
She dug through the racks, looking for something close to her size, which usually meant something made for teenage boys. Though it took about twenty minutes, she finally came up with a couple of pairs of slim-legged boot-cut Levi’s that looked like they might fit.
She was about to hunt down the salesgirl and ask about a dressing room when a question interrupted her thoughts.
“Jessanne?” a women’s voice asked. “Jessanne Burke. Is that you?”
Jesse froze like a deer caught in oncoming headlights. Nobody had called her by that name since the abduction. After Amanda’s death, she’d refused to answer to it, cutting her name in half. As far as she was concerned, Jessanne had died the same night Amanda had. Jessanne didn’t exist anymore.
She was Jesse now.
Though the voice sounded vaguely familiar, she couldn’t quite place it. It was someone who knew her, but from where?
Drawing a breath, she turned around. A short brunette in a stylish pantsuit met her inquiring gaze. She recognized her ex-boss, Lenora Wilmington. Memories of sneaking a quick break behind the Chicken Shack when the boss wasn’t looking crowded into her mind. The job hadn’t paid a lot, little more than minimum wage, but it was fun.