JEZEBEL
Jessie
cursed her own vulnerability. If time had taught her anything at all, it was that
nothing was worth opening her heart. And even if there were something out there
– it wasn’t David Bishop. She’d already been on that ride and
the thrill was overrated. The cost too damn high. She’d spent the last couple
of years trying to exorcise him from her system. Apparently without any success
at all.
She told herself that it was just proximity. Sensory memory or something equally
inane. Pheromones always seemed to have a mind of their own. But it was hard to
ignore the real fear she’d felt when she’d found him cornered in Lewisham.
In all truth, it was a new and powerful emotion. An immortal didn’t really
experience a whole lot of fear – and considering she’d been hung,
poisoned, and shot to death on three separate occasions – she was more immune
to the feeling than most. Basically, from her point of view, death was a less
than frightening experience.
Except when it was happening to David.
Even with Henri, the only other man who’d managed to penetrate her shell,
she’d never felt such raw, physical anguish. And she’d watched him
die. At the time she’d mourned Henri’s loss, her pain real, but it
had been nothing like the stark desperation she’d felt upon walking in on
David at Iverson’s.
She glanced over at him, sitting in the plane seat next to her. His eyes were
closed, his breathing even. Obviously he’d taken the adventure in stride.
In fact, he’d managed to act as if nothing of importance had happened at
all.
Of course there was the little fact that Iverson had quite possibly known the
location of the Protector. Her father wouldn’t be to happy when he discovered
she’d saved a mortal and in doing so had lost the key to the quest. But
then she didn’t have to tell her father.
“Having a little bit of trouble, are you?” The monitor embedded
in the seatback sprang to life, her father’s head sort of bobbing in place
against the dark blue background.
“What are you doing here?” Jessie whispered, shooting a sideways
glance at David and the passengers across the way. Thank God for first class –
she’d learned along time ago that people with money tend to tune out everything
around them. The epitome of turning a blind eye.
“Just checking on your progress.” Her father’s smile was
jaunty, but his black eyes were not amused. “I see you’ve picked up
the garbage.” For reasons Jessie had never really understood, her father
had reacted almost as violently to her liaison with David Bishop as she had. Practically
ordering her to stop seeing the man.
But Jessie had never listened to anyone. Particularly her father. And of course
the irony was, he’d been absolutely right.
“I told you I need his help.”
“Blast and damn, girl. You don’t need anyone’s help,”
her father thundered. Fortunately, no one but her could hear him. “Especially
not a mortal. What do they know?”
“Well, this one is an expert on the Protector of Armageddon, remember?
And if you want me to find the damn thing, I’m going to need his help.”
“I assumed you’d simply use your gift – after all that’s
what gives you the upper hand in finding things, am I right?” His smile
this time was genuine. Her father liked it when she played by his rules.
“I tried. More than once as a matter of fact.” Since she was a
tiny girl, Jessie had been able to see things, visualize who exactly held the
information she needed. Sometimes it was quick and to the point, sometimes it
was so vague it took her weeks to work it out, but always it was ultimately on
target.
Except with the Protector. She’d tried to find it years ago – for
David. And she’d been trying now – for her father. With absolutely
no success at all – except that’d she’d managed to locate David,
and stop him from being killed.
“I’m blocked. Or the box is protected in some way. Long and short
of it is, that if I’m going to find it, I’m going to need help, and
David’s been hunting the thing for years. He’s my best shot.”
“Well, I’d think the very fact that he hasn’t found it, would
mean just the opposite, but who am to question your choices. I’ll just believe
in your resourcefulness, and remind you how much is hanging in the balance here,
for you – and for me.” Leave it to her father to make it all about
him.
“I’ll get the box, Daddy. I promise. But no more popping in to
see how I’m doing. You owe me that much.”
For a moment, her father’s frown seemed to reach out from the monitor,
his eyes shooting flames, but then with a sigh, he capitulated. “Fine. Have
it your way.”
It was an old battle. “I don’t need your help. I’m perfectly
capable of taking care of myself. I’d think the last few centuries would
have more than proved the fact. ”
“What can I say?” her father’s head bobbed, “I’m
your father. I worry.”
“And the moon is made of green cheese.” She started to laugh, but
swallowed it, worried that David would wake to find her father ensconced in the
little monitor. “Look, Daddy, I learned my lesson. Relationships can’t
work. Not for someone like me. So I’ll handle this – without your
interference.”
She waited as her father digested the information.
“I’ll
have your word.” He opened his mouth to argue, but she shook her head. “If
you can’t give me that, then I won’t even try to find the box. You
can take your request to Lola.” She knew he couldn’t, her little sister
was capable of a lot. Wrecking havoc among men being chief of the list. But she
wouldn’t be able to find the Protector.
“I gave you the quest. And I guess I’ll just have to trust that
you know how best to find the box.”
It wasn’t a glowing endorsement, but considering this was the devil,
she’d take it.
