Eternally Yours 1 Page 26

  Before Adam the limo driver swung the door closed, Luc darted inside and settled himself opposite his one-time friend. “Hello, Matt.”

  Not surprisingly, Matt didn’t hear and didn’t respond. Instead, he reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a small yellow vial with a black rubber cap.

  Luc’s jaw dropped. “Goddamn it! I thought you gave that shit up years ago.”

  After all the times Luc had bailed this sorry coke-hound out of a jam, culminating in the fiasco in El Salvador… How could he have been so stupid? So blind to what occurred under his nose? Or at least, under Matt’s nose?

  As the powder flew up Matt’s nostril, a sharp sting pierced Luc’s brain. His eyes watered, and he closed them against the needles of pain. When he opened them again, his vision focused clearly on Matt. But this was a Matt he didn’t recognize. Or did he?

  Familiarity crawled up his spine, an army of tarantulas leaving shivers where every fuzzy leg touched. Fine hairs danced on his nape as Luc got his first peek into Matt’s black soul. A soul Luc had first naively befriended in New York. When the colony was called New Amsterdam.

  With a burst of clarity, he saw how many times their lives had intersected, and the results of each relationship.

  In the first incarnation, Luc saw himself as Erick Hamburg, blissfully happy in his marriage to the joyful, beautiful Greta. Until Proctor Verhoeven spun his web of evil around them both.

  Never before had Luc seen that particular life, how he’d allowed the minister’s supposed piety to tear him from his wife’s side when she needed him most. But, oh the viciousness of the proctor’s actions resonated, dragging bile into Luc’s throat. Simple-minded, superstitious Erick said nothing when the villagers arrested his lovely wife for practicing witchcraft, turned a blind eye when she was sentenced to be burned at the stake, and stood beside the proctor on that fiery morning.

  Erick watched his wife die, taking no action on her behalf, believing solely in his reward at heaven’s gate. But within hours of her death, remorse overtook him. Greta’s screams of agony haunted him for the rest of his days, which thankfully didn’t last long. Erick Hamburg died of typhus the following winter.

  Luc vividly recalled his next encounter with this vile snake from his past life review with Placide: the tragedy of Nathan Bledsoe and his beloved Christine. Once again, Luc placed his faith in a traitorous man rather than in the loyal woman he loved, a devastating error in judgment that caused his stomach to pitch now on waves of torment.

  But peering inside Matt’s soul, Luc now saw the truth. Just as with Daphne, he’d placed the blame upon the wrong head. Christine had never received his last letter, had never known her betrothed planned to hurry home to her. Stephen had intercepted the missive and turned it over to his British contacts for a handful of silver. Exactly like Judas.

  Nathan’s last thoughts before his death resonated inside Luc’s head: May God visit a painful end to Christine Grainger’s days!

  Riding in the back of a twentieth century limousine, Luc watched what had happened after Nathan’s death on that bleak February morning. Corporal Ruskin brought the news to Christine. She broke, like crockery shattered on the floor, into a million raw pieces, shards of screaming pain. Ruskin seized the opportunity to swoop in on the devastated woman and declare his passion for her. But Christine, shocked and disgusted, spurned Ruskin’s advances. She tossed him from her house, swearing to all in the county who might hear that she’d never love another the way she’d loved her Nate.

  Hours later, after the servants had snuffed the last candle and the family slept peacefully, Ruskin returned and lit a torch to the Grainger home. Wood and straw caught in an instant, engulfing the house in flames and thick black smoke. Blinded by tears and darkness, Christine managed to crawl from the wreckage. The rest of her family wasn’t so fortunate. They perished in the blaze. And poor Christine, Nate’s beautiful Christine, suffered agonizing burns which left horrid scars on her once perfect face, her soft hands, her delicate feet. Scars that stayed with her until the day she died, a spinster, alone and penniless, weeping for her lost Nathan.

  Watching her upon her deathbed, in her dimming eyes, Luc saw all the truth he needed. Her eyes had haunted him over generations. Her fathomless eyes of deep oceanic blue, always filled with softness and compassion, allowed the world to see her great capacity for love.

  Nathan/Erick/Luc could never erase the memory of those eyes or the burn scars she carried from one lifetime to the next and to the next.

  All the way to the Afterlife where she wore them like her own badge of courage, her personal reminder to hold on no matter how tough the situation.

  For Greta Hamburg was Christine Grainger. And Christine Grainger was Jodie Devlin.

  His one true love. His perfect match. His soulmate.

  Chapter 32

  The rage spiraled inside Luc, dragging him into a vortex of malice and violence. If he could, he’d wrap his hands around Matt’s throat and squeeze every drop of air from his traitorous body. Before he might act on the impulse, a whirlwind carried him up and out of the limo. He catapulted through the night sky, hurtled past the stars so fast they became long lines of white light bouncing off his ever spinning orb.

  Why had he waited so long to find the answers? How much time had he lost?

  Wind whipped, darkening his frenzied thoughts. The links from each lifetime grew stronger, more vivid in his memory. Era after era, Matt had done his best to destroy both Luc and Jodie. And era after era, he’d succeeded. From Erick and Greta to Nate and his Christine, and the dozens of lifetimes over which they’d tried to reconnect only to fail. All the way to Jodie and Luc, doomed to disaster once again.

  Sorry, folks, but not this time. Never again. Luc would see Matt Cooper flung into hell first. So what if the Afterlife didn’t have a hell? He’d create one. Just for the son-of-a-bitch. He owed Jodie some kind of peace for all the miseries she’d suffered over the centuries. Only after he’d meted out his own special brand of Karmic Justice would Luc return to Jodie.

  Guilt swamped him, impeding his progress through the astral planes. Proctor Verhoeven had whispered poison in Erick Hamburg’s ear. Poor foolish Erick had placed his faith in the false prophet and betrayed his beautiful, devoted loving wife in the name of piety. Which probably explained why Luc was an agnostic—he’d taken the wrong lesson from that life.

  Stephen had never considered the possibility that Christine hadn’t received his last letter, preferring to believe in her perfidy instead of the love and devotion she’d always given him. What lesson had he taken away from that life? Women couldn’t be trusted. Not like a best friend.

  Christ, what a muck he’d made of everything! He’d screwed up royally. And not just his own life. Lifetime after lifetime, he’d trusted a man rather than the woman he purported to love so deeply. Forget six degrees of separation. Tragedy and Luc went hand-in-hand. If he’d placed his faith in Daphne, given weight to her suspicions regarding Matt when they first met, he wouldn’t have put Matt in charge of running supplies to the third world. At the time, he’d thought the plan cost-effective. Matt had a pilot’s license, negating the expense of hiring an outsider, which Daphne wanted. If he’d trusted Daphne’s instincts, Jodie’s life would have been exponentially happier. No attack in Castelan, no burn scars. Her parents would probably have survived. She’d have married that Gabe guy and lived a long, happy life.

  His fault. All her misery was his fault. He had to confess his sins to her, reveal all the details of their sorry tale, including the secret of his hand in the Castelan massacre. He would have to beg Jodie’s forgiveness, pray she’d understand and grant him the chance to atone for every time he’d screwed up. But his Jodie—sweet, soft-hearted, generous Jodie—would forgive him. Because her great capacity for love would plumb the depths of his heart and see the truth.

  Thank God he’d finally come to his senses! They’d already lost so much time due to his stubbornness. A stubbornness that had nea
rly ruined them again. But now he realized why the Board had made them partners here.

  In fact, no matter what Sherman and the Elders said, the Board probably knew about the arrival of untimely deaths, as well as scheduled ones. Thus, after his death, they’d held him back from his next life, working as a bounty hunter until Jodie’s suicide could reunite them. Trainer/trainee. Pilot program, my ass.

  Of course. The idea made perfect sense. What had Sean said during that orb game? I know Sherman spouts crap about our reservations not being ready, but I think the Board wants us to realize what we threw away.

  At last, Luc knew what he’d thrown away. Now he would do whatever it took to gain Jodie back. This time, forever. He felt reborn, ready to turn his heart and mind around. Whatever she desired of him—the moon, the stars—he’d gladly give her. If only she’d forgive him for doubting her. When his target came into sight, he dove and plummeted toward the landscape. Increasing his speed, he hurtled down, down, down, down…

  Into the bleakest world he’d ever seen. Sky-high pillars of gray ice dotted the flat taupe landscape. A cacophony of groans and wails rose up inside him, nearly deafening in intensity, echoing misery over the eons. Luc hadn’t returned to the Halfway House or even to Ghoul Central. Luc had crash-landed in the Chasm.

  ~~~~

  Thanks to Sean’s assistance with her energy depletion, Jodie flew hard and fast to Sherman’s office, ready for whatever battle lay ahead. She’d find Luc and bring him home, no matter whose ass she had to kick to do it. And her first stop could only be the spirit guide. To her surprise, Sherman looked relieved to see her. In fact, he hurried forward and gripped her wrist.

  “Come,” he ordered, dragging her past the dazed throngs of newcomers. “They’re waiting for you.”

  “Who? Who’s waiting for me?” Her heart nearly exploded with joy. “Luc? Luc’s here? Oh, thank God—”

  “No, not Luc,” Sherman snapped. “Luc’s gone. For good. Poor bastard.”

  The world collapsed beneath her feet, and she pulled up short. “Gone? What do you mean, he’s ‘gone for good’?”

  The old man had to be mistaken. Luc couldn’t just disappear. Could he? Numbness stole over her bouncing electrons, emptying all her passion and excitement in a flood that soon slowed to a steady trickle.

  “He can’t be gone.” The words came out a rasp, a wish uttered through a strangled throat. He couldn’t be gone. Not yet. Not until she gained one more moment with him. One more chance. To tell him she loved him. Had always loved him. Knew from the very first time she’d seen him that they shared a link beyond Earth, beyond time.

  Sherman’s long, sorrowful sigh infiltrated her hopes, dashing them like sea spray against a rocky shoreline. “Please. The Elder Council is waiting. They will explain far better than I.”

  “I don’t want an explanation.” Okay, well that wasn’t entirely true. But she wanted Luc first. Explanations could wait.

  Sherman’s agate eyes clouded to stormy gray. “Please.”

  The power in his simple plea urged her forward. But each step she took echoed in her ears, a death knell. How long could she delay the inevitable? If she didn’t reach the Elders and didn’t hear the devastating news about Luc’s departure, maybe it wouldn’t be real? Her heartbeat ticked off time, dreading the moment she would learn that Luc had moved on, had already begun a new life, leaving her behind. Her head drooped with each step, until at last she stared at her feet. And saw the scars. From some deep inner well of logic, her conscience chided her. Steady, girl. Remember. You’ve borne more tragic losses than this. You’re not that pathetic weakling anymore.

  The auditorium doors snicked open at their approach, and Sherman stopped. With a sweep of his hands, the spirit guide ushered her past him into the private sanctum of the Elder Council. As soon as her feet crossed the threshold, the doors sealed shut behind her on a hiss of air that slithered down her spine. After her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, she discerned the lone chair, the dais up on the stage, and two Elders waiting. Serenity and…? What was Luc’s counselor’s name? Something soothing.

  Calmo? No. That was stupid. Placido? No, but that sounded close. Placide! Yes!

  With the names firmly implanted in her head, she focused on their expectant postures. This time she didn’t run to Serenity. She didn’t have to. Serenity and Placide came to her. In one eye blink they moved from their seats on the dais to stand before her, two odd figures from days gone by.

  “Jodie.” Serenity’s hand flowed toward the tall, staid gentleman to her left. “This is Luc’s Elder Counselor, Placide.”

  Talk about a contradiction! Whereas Serenity wore her voluminous toga and gold earrings, Placide’s attire reflected a more contemporary flair: dark suit, white shirt. Still, he was just the type of counselor Jodie would expect Luc to select—male, formal, and conservative. She automatically moved her hand forward, but quickly stopped when her fingers brushed her hip. What should she do? The man had such a stiff, regal air, like some formal English butler. Offering to shake his hand seemed far too gauche. Should she bow? Curtsey? Oh, the hell with it. She opted for a slight head bow, a gesture that, as a child, she’d learned translated as respectful in dozens of cultures.

  His baritone chuckle flowed over her like warm honey. “Yes, Serenity, I see what you mean. She is delightful.” One hand reached out to touch her chin, fingers lifting her gaze to his. Solemn amber eyes studied her until she had to fight the urge to squirm under his scrutiny by digging her fingernails into her palms.

  “You’ve come seeking Luc,” Serenity announced matter-of-factly, drawing her attention.

  The wise woman didn’t smile, showed no warmth whatsoever, a strange turn not lost on Jodie’s psyche. Still, she steeled her nerves to remain similarly impassive. “Yes.” No begging, no tears. Despite the knife stabbing her heart with each beat. Stay calm. Be reasonable. No hysterics. “Do you know where he is?”

  “Lost.”

  “Lost?” Her voice rose an octave as dread spiked. “Where?”

  “In the Chasm.”

  Composure deserted her. Knees crumbling, she sank into the lone chair.

  The Chasm. Luc had only briefly described the place for her when he’d lectured her about her flight to Gabe. His words came back to her now, each one draining her essence in increasing increments. A last resort for lost souls. Cold, lifeless, desolate. A land of no return. Bleak. Soul-sucking. The dread peaked, and she shot up again. “We have to go get him.”

  Serenity placed her hands on Jodie’s shoulders, easing her back into the seat. “No. He went O.R.A.L. and flew to Earth without authorization, fully aware of the consequences.”

  “He didn’t know!” Jodie pointed an accusing finger at Placide. “You never told him about Karmic Justice. Finding out so suddenly—from his trainee, no less—”

  “Partner,” Placide corrected, appearing unaffected by her indictment.

  “What?”

  “He made you his partner.”

  “Like it matters?” If not for the chair to support her legs, she would have sunk to the floor. Luc was locked in the Chasm and these two wanted to debate the semantics of her current relationship to him? “The point is I had to provide him with information he should have received from you!”

  She cocked her head, studying their stern expressions for a clue to their thoughts. Nothing communicated back to her. She may as well address two mannequins. “So in a momentary weakness,” she prompted, “Luc flew off to confront some demon from his past life. What or who was that demon?”

  “You.”

  Oh, what fresh hell was Serenity presenting to her now? “Excuse me?”

  “You are his demon. Lifetime after lifetime. What he mistakenly sought on Earth has been beside him the entire time. He betrayed you, Jodie, and is not deserving of your concern.”

  She folded her arms across her chest and glared sharp enough to shoot daggers through her eyes. “I disagree. And I’m going after him.”

/>   “No, you will not,” Serenity replied. “To do so would not only have no effect on Luc’s predicament, but would also place your soul in the same jeopardy. You would face eternity in solitude. Alone, helpless, in a world of endless suffering. Do not be foolish, my child.”

  “I am not your child, Serenity. In fact, I’m not a child at all. You expect me to leave Luc in this place of endless suffering? Alone? Well, I can’t. I won’t.” Tears swam in her eyes, blurring the figures in front of her to fuzzy outlines of humanity. How could they remain so calm, so incredibly lovely to the eyes yet so stony in their hearts? “Haven’t you ever loved anyone?”

  “Are you saying you love Luc Asante, Jodie?” Serenity asked. No censure filled her tone this time, only curiosity. “What about Gabriel, the man you left behind on Earth?”

  “You, yourself, told me Gabe was lost to me. But besides that, having the chance to know Luc has opened my eyes to things I’d never allowed myself to see before. Gabe and I might have lived a happy life together, but he wasn’t my true match.”

  “And now you believe Luc Asante is? What makes you so sure?”

  Jodie smiled for the first time since she’d walked into this massive room. “Because you wouldn’t have paired us up if he wasn’t. Our telepathic communications, the mind-blowing melds, even our arguments are unique from all other bounty hunters. You once told me our melding was natural. That Luc and I complemented each other. Why? Obviously because we are two halves of the same whole. I can survive without him if I have to, even find love with someone else. But we’re both stronger when we’re together.”

  Placide’s lips twisted. “Do you really think so?”

  His tone bristled against her nape. “Yes, I do.”

  He spun his finger. “Close your eyes, Jodie. Serenity and I will be happy to show you exactly how well you two fare when you’re together.”

  Chapter 33