First Crossing (5 page)

“I know,” he said, his voice unreadable. “Mixed martial
arts. A reasonable grounding.”

“And I’m fit.”

“Yes, you are. You can run, swim, leap. A legacy of your
paternal grandfather, we are thinking.” His tone was matter-of-fact, steadying.
“You really have no idea of what you present to the world, Eve. That is why you
are being hunted.”

“Executed,” she said quietly, still not looking up. “You
said “a planned execution.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Can you be more specific about the ‘why’?”

“In our world, great importance is placed on prophesies,
both magical and clear visions seen by minds that can actually tap into worlds
of the future.” He reached out and tilted up her chin. “You, Eve, figure in
more than one of those visions – a child taken from the Otherworld at birth and
raised on Mortal Earth.  It is said that you will determine the balance of
power between worlds, and there are many who will kill before they let that
happen.”

She looked at him, his face caked with blood and his shirt
torn, and trembled at the thought of what was after her. “Eve.” He bent forward
and whispered against her lips, “They will not reach you. You will be safe,
until you learn the skills you need. You are strong. Remember that.” He leaned
forward infinitesimally and kissed her, his lips warm and comforting. “When
it’s time, I’ll come back for you.”

At that it simply became all too much. With a tiny moan, she
threw her arms around his neck and rested her head against his broad, hard
chest, listening to his heartbeat.

For a moment he held her tight, and then she felt the
change. His awareness flared, and at the same time the garage grew dark and icy
cold. He set her back from him quickly.

“They’re here, aren’t they?” Eve felt so scared she could
barely stand up.

“Yes.” He placed one warm hand on her cheek. “Ready?”

“What about you?” she cried, panicked.

“As soon as you’ve gone, I’ll lock on to another dimension
that is well known to them. They’ll realize immediately we’ve both gone, but
they’ll follow the last heat signature – which will be me.”

“But – “

“Where I’m going, there’s a Stargate. I can travel through
time and space; they can’t.”

The walls of the garage shook and rattled, and the iron on
the roof started to lift.

“It’s time. Lock on!
Go!
”

Eve instinctively reached within to coordinates of the
bright, hard path to the next pocket of time and space. The air around her drew
tight, and there was the now-familiar sensation of being at one with magic and
nature as she spiraled away. It happened so quickly; one moment she was looking
into Hunter’s eyes; the next she was gone.

This time the nausea won.

She was dumped on her knees onto a manicured lawn that swept
up to the broad marble steps of a two-storey white building. In the middle of
the broad sweep of green was an elegant fishpond leaping with koi, graced by a
marble statue spilling a sparkling stream of water from a tilted urn.

Eve barely saw any of it before she was heaving up her
lunch. This was far, far worse than the previous occasions. Every bone in her
body ached. Her head swam.

And oh, she was so, so sick.

Eve gripped the stone wall at the edge of the pond, felt the
world tilt, then laid her head on her arms and closed her eyes. She wanted to
die. If this was what crossing worlds did to you, she’d had enough.
Enough.

After a time, the world stopped revolving around her and the
violent shivering eased. The sun was blessedly warm on her back.

“Uh – excuse me.” The voice behind her was as warm as honey.

No. She couldn’t cope with anyone else. She just wanted
ibuprofen and a dark room.

“Excuse me?”

Acutely aware of what she must look like, with her damp
white capris streaked with dirt and her hair a salt-encrusted tangle, Eve
pushed herself upright and turned, wiping her mouth with a sleeve of the grimy
jacket. She looked up, and silently groaned. The woman who stood staring down
at her was immaculate: from the auburn hair that fell to her shoulders in a
glossy, straight sheet to her peep-toed black high heels. She was dressed in a
black suit, with the severity relieved by a cream blouse in some filmy fabric.

Eve got to her feet, staggering a little. “I’m sorry,” she
said inadequately, gesturing towards the fishpond. “I – uh – I was sick.”

“Yes,” said the woman. “I saw. I’m sorry you’re not feeling
well. Are you here for Mrs. Turton?” She gestured behind her.

Eve looked, squinting against the thudding pain in her head,
and saw a stream of people making their way along a path and up the wide steps.
Some were sneaking glances at Eve while trying not to be too obvious about it.
Others appeared to be too wrapped up in their own misery to care what she was
doing. “The service is about to start, but perhaps you would like me to escort
you to a private room until you are feeling better?”

A service? Eve twisted around to take a closer look at where
she was, and saw the elegant bronze letters above the front doors of the
building.
CrossOver Funeral Home.

She was at a funeral home?

“I’m not sure I’m in the right place,” she said slowly.
“I’m… supposed to meet my aunts.” She frowned and stared at the trim emerald
lawn, trying to remember what Hunter had said. Then her mind cleared, and his
words echoed in her mind.
Their names are Helena and Sophie. You will arrive
at their door, and they will be expecting you.

Eve raised her head and surveyed the double doors under the
gleaming bronze letters. Surely this couldn’t be the place? She looked at the
woman. “My aunts,” she said again. “Helena and Sophie?”

The woman’s mouth opened slightly. “Helena and Sophie are
your
aunts?”
Her face wore a comical expression of disbelief. She
surveyed Eve again, taking in every detail of her disheveled appearance, and
for a second Eve thought she saw her lips twitch. Then the woman’s face
smoothed into polite neutrality. She cleared her throat. “If you’d like to follow
me, I’ll take you to them.”

 Eve miserably trailed after her, around the side of the
imposing white building and into an underground garage. The woman exuded
sensuality, even clad in somber black. She looked, Eve thought, far too warm
and vibrant for a place like this. Although what did she know? She’d only been
in a funeral home maybe twice in her entire life. And never with the mother of
all migraines to add to the experience.

They went through a glass door, up a spiral staircase and
through yet another set of glass doors. Just past an office where another
perfectly groomed girl sat tapping at a computer keyboard, Eve’s escort stopped
and knocked on a door. If the gleam in her black eyes and the quirk to her lips
was anything to go by, the woman seemed to be trying – not very successfully –
to suppress her amusement. She wondered if The Aunts would also find it funny.

“Come in,” called a musical voice.

The woman opened the door and waved Eve inside. “Sophie,”
she said in a voice that tried and failed to sound neutral. “This young lady
says she is your niece. I found her out at the koi pond. She – uh – isn’t
well.”

Eve looked at the tall blond woman directing a charming
smile her way and thought,
viper.

“Thank you, Ken. I think you had better return to the
service now; they’ll be short-handed.” There was nothing in her aunt’s face to
indicate this was a reprimand, but everyone in the room knew it was.

The woman nodded graciously and left.

Eve looked after her as the door closed and blinked. “Ken?”

“He’s a shapeshifter,” said Aunt Sophie. “A kitsune; he can
assume any shape he wishes, but he mostly prefers to adopt the form of a woman.
It can be handy at times in this business.” She took her time looking Eve up
and down, her face remaining pleasant. “We were told you were coming.”

 
And I’m about as welcome as the plague,
Eve thought.
Holding on to her good manners by a fingernail, she smiled politely and said:
“I apologize for my appearance. It’s been a long day.”

“I would ask you to sit down, but…”

“I know.” Eve followed her glance to the spotless oatmeal
fabric on the seat of the chairs, and then looked down at herself. “I wasn’t
able to bring anything with me. I – I’ll need to buy clothes.” She could
imagine her aunt thinking
just as well
, considering the outfit she was
wearing, but she couldn’t even begin to explain.

“Helena is in the mortuary. We might as well go and see her
there.”

Eve nodded.
And get me out of sight of your staff and
patrons.

The barest hint of a snarl flashed in the back of her aunt’s
eyes, and Eve suddenly realised the other woman could probably read her
thoughts. Damn. Whole new ball game here. In a split second she buried her real
opinions under a quickly-erected shield, and pushed other, innocuous thoughts
to the surface.
Not that I can blame her, I suppose. I’m not exactly looking
my best.
Aloud, she said “I’ll follow you.”

With another saccharine smile, Sophie walked past her and
headed away from the entrance to a door at the end of the corridor. Eve took
the opportunity to study her from behind. Her aunt was tall, around five ten,
with a slim figure clad in a taupe suit. Her tawny hair was artfully streaked
with shades of toffee and russet, and worn in a sleek, modern style that
feathered around her ears and neck, and suited her small pointed ears. Her eyes
were a shade of blue Eve had never seen before: a deep azure. She was an
attractive, elegant woman.

Pity she’s a snake,
thought Eve down deep, while on
the surface she ran a mundane patter that she hoped would bore the stylish
shoes off her aunt:
I’d kill for a hot shower, God I’m tired, I wonder how
long this place has been operating…

Then the thought struck her that she couldn’t read her aunt.
She felt a curl of panic. So this is what it felt like when the shoe was on the
other foot.

Sophie pushed the door open and headed down the stairs. More
stairs. Eve could see she was going to get mighty sick of running up and down
stairs if she worked here.

Which prompted another thought: what would they want her to
do? What
did
people do behind the scenes at a funeral home? She hoped
she wouldn’t have to have anything to do with the dearly departed. Maybe there
was a clerical job upstairs, or she could interview families, or something.

Finally they arrived at a plain white door. Sophie opened it
and motioned Eve through.

A pint-sized woman was standing on a box, bending forward
over a very dead male, and pointing to his jaw while she shot rapid-fire
instructions to a harried-looking girl. “…and up here, you’ll need to add a bit
more filler. Then try to make him look respectable, for God’s sake. Bloody
claws. They shred each other.” She looked up as the door opened, and made eye
contact with Eve. Her jet black eyebrows came together in a frown, and her gaze
shot to her sister.

Another snake,
thought Eve. So that was what Hunter
had meant. “Difficult” was probably a euphemism.

“You may leave us for a moment, Calendra,” said Sophie
smoothly. “Start preparing the viewing room.”

“Okay.” With a curious glance at Eve, the girl removed an
apron and sidled out. As soon as she had gone, Sophie said to Helena, “This is
our niece, Eve.”

“Humph.” Helena stepped down from the box and put her hands
on her hips and surveyed Eve, not bothering with a pretense of welcome. “Well,
you were dropped on us like a bolt from the blue. We’d heard rumors of a baby
from our step-sister’s fling with a mortal.  Never expected to see you,
though.”

Helena’s rudeness served only to stiffen Eve’s spine, but
she was careful not to show it. Even if Hunter hadn’t warned her, she would
have known on a gut-deep level that she had to be wary of these two.

With excruciating care, she extended her awareness to a
hyper-alert level where she should be able to receive thoughts and impressions
without alerting the target. Nothing. Either she couldn’t read fae minds, or
these two were shielding themselves from her.

When Eve didn’t respond, Helena turned her attention to
Sophie. “What are we supposed to do with her?”

“Give her shelter, mainly,” responded Sophie, staring at her
niece assessingly. “Mother says she is to work here part of the time, and she
will arrange lessons in fae customs and history. And other things.”

Helena ran a hand through her hair, looking exasperated. “As
though we don’t have enough to do without training another newcomer. Staff go
in and out of this place as though it’s a revolving door.” She glanced around.
“I suppose you can clean the place up; hose it out. Wash the cars.”

Sophie gave a smile that was perfectly charming, but made
Eve feel like a mouse between her claws. “Well, actually, mother tells me that
Eve worked as a beautician on Mortal Earth.”

Helena’s frown magically cleared. “Ah.” She shot a glance
back at the man on the table. Eve’s gaze followed hers, and she guessed
immediately what was coming.
Oh no.

“I’ve never worked with dead people,” she said quickly.
“Only regular clients and accident victims. People who had some hope of
healing.” She cast a nervous glance at the cadaver.

“If you can do makeup for the living, you can do it for the
dead,” said Helena decisively. “Ken can show you how to use Restor-Skin and
Plasto-Wax. He can teach you embalming, too.”

“That’s probably a very good idea,” Sophie agreed smoothly,
as if it hadn’t been in her mind all along. “Stay down here in the background
until you feel more comfortable with the services we provide. Heaven knows, we
do need a mortuary cosmetologist.”

“People pay more when the word gets around that there’s a
good cosmetologist on the staff.” Helena sent Eve a challenging glare. “We can
always create an illusion that someone looks beautiful, but too many of our
clientele can see through it. It’s a nuisance, but we need staff who can work
on the physical plane. I suppose you
are
good at what you do?”