Deceiver's Bond: Book Two of A Clairvoyant's Complicated Life (33 page)

I stopped in my tracks, keeping my back to the camera, and cut him off. “Randy, no. I can’t. Just … look at me.” I thrust out my hands so he could see how badly they trembled before crossing my arms, effectively hiding them. “It’s not just this incident. I’ve read a lot of bad stuff, lately. I just … I can’t. I’m s-sorry. I need a break.”

He nodded, looking crushed. “Okay. Yeah. I get it. I know you’ve been through a lot with that murder case and everything. How ‘bout I call you next week, just to see how you’re doing? I’d hate for there to be any hard feelings between us, you know?”

I mustered a smile, doing all I could to keep my teeth from chattering. “Sure. I’d like that. And I’ll send you the appraisals, like always. D-don’t worry, Randy. We’re cool.”

“Yeah? Okay … cool.” He cocked his head to glance around me, toward the conference room door. “Hey, I better get back.” He stared up at Kieran. “Take care of her, man. She’s the awesome.” He winked at me. “Right. Later.” As he strode away, he called over his shoulder, “I’ll call you.”

Kieran, his eyebrow raised, watched Randy before gazing down at me. I wondered what he was thinking.

“C-come on,” I mumbled, unable to hide my outward trembling any longer, “before that bastard Fisk decides to detain m-m-me.” I hurried down the corridor, pushing through the double doors leading to the Forum Gallery.

Away from the camera’s view, I slowed my pace to scan the area. The current exhibit involved interactive video about a foreign moviemaker I’d never heard of. Only two people were in sight, at the far end of the gallery, their heads down watching the large flat panel screen at one of the many towering kiosks that peppered the room. I plowed ahead and then stepped behind a display, out of sight of the doors we’d just exited.

Although I tried to contain the worst of my shakes, I could no longer stop my teeth from clamoring together. “C-can you throw a v-veil?”

Kieran frowned down at me, nonplussed. Immediately, the area around us darkened.

“How g-good are y-you? C-can you veil sound t-too?”

“Of course. What is wrong with you?”

I finally let myself go, releasing my breath and succumbing to my body’s wishes. From between my chattering teeth, I uttered, “J-just give me a m-m-minute.” I backed up a step and slid to my knees. I probably looked a sight—
just another pathetic human here, don’t mind me
—but there was nothing I could do about it. I’d been through enough gut-wrenching readings to know my body was going to have its release whether I fought it or not. I was just happy I’d managed to forestall it long enough to get out of Fisk’s view.

I shuddered uncontrollably, my vantage giving me a good view of Kieran’s sable-brown loafers, and fought to compartmentalize my new catalog of horrifying memories. The cold floor seeped though the fabric of my trousers, adding to my shivers.

After several minutes, Kieran crouched next to me. I imagined he’d gotten bored with watching me quake like a neurotic Chihuahua.

I turned my head aside, avoiding his eyes. I already felt like a fool. I didn’t need to see his superior expression too.

I jumped and almost toppled over at his unexpected touch on my arm. He tightened his grip, steadying me, and when I met his eyes, he looked genuinely concerned. In the shadow of his veil, his enlarged pupils pushed the edges of his iris to the point of inconspicuousness.

He tipped his head down, piercing me with his dark gaze. “As long as I am at your side, you will not come to harm. I promise you.”

I nodded mutely, aware that my trembling had diminished with his touch. “How do you do that? All you have to do is touch me and I have so much more c-c-control. It was the same with Vince. If you hadn’t h-helped me back there …”

“I’m glad I was some help to you, at least. If I’d been closer, I might have prevented your suffering to begin with. By the time I felt its corruption, it was too late.” He released my arm. “I am not surprised your lover’s touch offered consolation. Many of us have the ability to lend strength to those with whom we share an emotional attachment.”

“Or, those you protect,” I mumbled. I had no illusion that Kieran felt more than a professional obligation toward me. I wanted him to know it.

He nodded and offered me his hand, rising from his crouch. “Can you stand?”

I allowed him to help me up and thanked him while I dusted off my backside and straightened my blouse.

The sound of a door opening and solid footsteps drew my attention to Agent Fisk cutting a determined path through the gallery, pressing his cell phone to his ear, and speaking heatedly to someone on the other end. I couldn’t catch much more than a few ancillary words here and there, but ‘bitch’ came across loud and clear. Why did I think he was talking about me?

“That man is not who he appears to be. You would do well to stay clear of him in the future,” Kieran instructed.

“What do you mean?”

Frowning, he replied, “He is a part-blood.”

I snapped my gaze back to Fisk, watching him as he exited the gallery. “You know him?”

Kieran shook his head. “He is not one of ours.”

What did that mean? Did the King have enemies? And, since I was with Kieran, did that now put me at odds with them?

I scowled. “Figures. I knew reading that necklace wasn’t simple coincidence.”

“Because of the demon?”

“Not just that.” I gazed at him levelly. “The owner of that necklace is responsible for orchestrating the deaths of the emissaries. At the time of his arrest, there were two left on his kill list, both here, in the Pacific Northwest. You already know about Alex in Portland, but the other emissary lives on Bainbridge Island, just a ferry ride away from here. Do you know her? Kimberly? Is she the one you mentioned last night—the one you’ve lost track of?”

“It is not
I
who has lost track of her.” He glared at me.

Touchy, touchy.

“Right, whatever. That’s what Maeve meant about Daniel’s recent difficulties. She was talking about the emissaries.”

“Yes. The telepaths are partially responsible for their safety. They have not held up their side of the Compact. Their shortsightedness threatens to undo the fragile peace that has lasted for centuries.”

My eyebrows vaulted to my hairline. “Whoa. Excuse me? What peace? What Compact?”

He looked impatient. “With your information about Kim, our time would be better spent helping Daniel and Michael in their efforts to locate her. She is our only link to the Otherworld. If she dies, the King may declare the Compact void, especially if he learns the Amhaín is somehow involved in the deaths of his emissaries. With renewed conflict between them, humankind will not be spared.”

Of course it wouldn’t!

I spun on my heel and paced away from him before being brought up short by the nearest wall. I pressed my hands hard against my thighs. “Can’t I have just one freaking conversation without someone spouting something about the death of mankind or Earth’s impending doom?” I glared at the wall, staring past the massive black-and-white image of a man and woman in 1920s garb that had been enlarged for the exhibition. “I just want to help Vince. All this shit about compacts and sidhe politics and demon invasions and whoever the hell this Amhaín is—”

I wanted to say that I’d had enough.

I was done.

I wanted to go home, take a hot bath, and crawl into bed. I wanted to watch Miyazake movies, eat popcorn, and dream without being accosted by demons or woken by sexy, perplexing sidhe men who smelled of the Otherworld. I wanted to be left alone and forget everything I’d experienced since encountering Vince in the Chiliquitham interrogation room last month.

I wanted to say (and
do
, damn it) all of those things.

But I couldn’t.

Kim, the last emissary, was in real danger. Regardless of this mysterious Compact and whoever the King was fighting, I had to do something to help her.

Because, I knew what the demon had done to the others.

I cursed and issued an angry growl before turning to Kieran. “Tell me what you know about Kim.”

Kieran and I missed the 11:25 am ferry by just ten minutes. After learning from Daniel that Kim Pratchet’s address was listed for all to see in the Seattle area white pages, I levitated the two of us over Puget Sound and aimed to catch it.

Even though he’d watched me fly off the side of my building the night before, I had a heck of a time convincing Kieran that a nosedive into forty-eight degree water wasn’t high on my list of fun things to do. Flying was my latest obsession. I’d literally spent hours soaring over and around downtown’s skyscrapers. Adding Kieran to the mix hardly mattered, especially with his touch bolstering my focus. Deflecting bullets … now that was a different story. I had about as much confidence in successfully stopping gunfire as I did in finding street parking in front of Peabody’s Beans on a weekday morning.

After several exasperating trips around the parking lot to prove my ability, Kieran finally gave in when I pointed out that the ferry was still visible on the horizon. The longer we dawdled, the farther away it got.

Thankfully, the weather was overcast but calm. Linked arm in arm and cloaked by Kieran’s veil, I propelled us through the cool springtime air, forty feet above the rippling blue surface. I had little sense of our speed, but if my wind slicked hair, snapping clothes, and chilled ears offered any indication, we were bopping along at maybe thirty miles per hour. In the distance, I watched the MV Tacoma, one of the two ferries that served the Bainbridge route, steadily grow larger against the horizon.

Although Kieran appeared calm, his hand on my waist pressed me harder against his body the further we receded from land. I gave him a squeeze and shouted over the sound of air sluicing past my ears, “You doing okay?”

He nodded, jaw clenched, squinting against the stiff breeze. His raven hair billowed out behind him—a magnificently tattered black flag. Dozens of irreverent strands snaked across his nose and forehead before he tossed his head, forcing them out of his face.

Maybe it was childish, but my naughty side got a charge out of seeing him look disconcerted for once. “Enjoy the view. I’m not going to drop you,” I teased.

At my ‘drop you’ comment, his hand, which he insisted needed to be in direct contact with my skin for a better connection, wound from the small of my back toward my left side. Now, instead of just his left hand under my jacket and blouse, his entire forearm was under there, snaked around me, warming me, his hand clamped over the tender skin of my side. I might have questioned his motives if not for the severe expression on his face.

“Kieran?”

When he didn’t respond or even look at me, I reduced our speed and rotated in his arms, so we now appeared to be slow dancing, albeit in a very strange location and without the benefit of music.

At my move, he jerked his head down, meeting my near gaze, his eyes momentarily widened by alarm.

“What’s up with you? Don’t you trust me?” I asked.

His grip loosened a fraction. Straightening his shoulders, he glanced ahead of us and shouted over the sound of our movement through the air, “I’m fine. Just … look where you’re going.”

I laughed. “What are we going to hit? There’s nothing out here.”

His jaw clenched. Honest to God, I could probably cut myself on the sharpness of his jaw-line. Even looking worried, he was a sight to behold. Again, I wasn’t noticing.

“What’s the matter? Afraid you’re going to get wet?”

His arms constricted, briefly pressing me harder against him. He glared at me before eying the water, as if the mere mention of a splashdown had brought us closer to its surface.

I frowned, studying him. “You can’t swim, can you?”

“No,” he clipped out from between his nearly bloodless lips.

Aha.

Now, it became clear why he’d been so adamant about maintaining skin contact with me. I’d been ninety-five percent sure he hadn’t been angling for an excuse to touch me. After all, it was true—his direct skin contact increased my focus and gave me exceptional shield control. But the heaviness of rejection, deep in my chest, told me I’d managed to harbor a secret wish.

Admit it. You were hoping he just wanted to touch your irresistible skin. Weren’t you?

Grinding my teeth, I chastised myself and resolved to get my shattered ego under control. Time to stop looking for every possible way to feel sorry for myself. I was an attractive, intelligent, capable woman who didn’t need a man in her life to feel valued.

Just follow your freaking path. Okay?

I stuck out my chin. “Wow. I’ve finally discovered something you’re not perfect at.”

He glowered but didn’t look at me.

“You have nothing to worry about. I might not have the best control over my pyrokinesis, but I’ve got a good handle on my TK,” I said, giving his arm a squeeze. “And you were right. Skin contact makes a big difference. Feels like I could take us to China and not get tired.”

I guess my comments reassured him. After a minute, his embrace relaxed and his left palm retook its position at the small of my back, its warmth against my skin the barest reminder of our connection.