Mosaic Moon Page 24

  "And that's not dangerous?"

  "No. But when I reverse it and send it back to John, it's going to leech some of your strength as well. Not a lot. You'll recover. I'm assuming you have a ride home lined up?"

  "Yes."

  One minute to go. "Why are you doing this?" he blurted.

  Ethan picked a blade of grass and twirled it in his fingers. "Because she asked me to, I guess. Don't worry, it's not some big valiant gesture to win her back."

  "I wasn't..."

  "You were. It's not. My lease is up at the end of the month, and then I'll be going home. You'll never be subjected to my presence again. I know how much you hate that."

  "I don't."

  "Do you lie to Emma like this? I hope not, because she can sense it, too, you know."

  Thirty seconds. Jesse's lips thinned. He didn't doubt that Ethan was there just because Emma asked. And he owed the other man a lot, whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not. Emma owed him a lot.

  "Do you have any other questions? We're about to start."

  Ethan flicked the leaf away. "No, I'm ready. Do what you have to do."

  The phone vibrated against his thigh, but Jesse didn't answer it immediately. He felt like he needed to apologize. Not because Emma loved him more than Ethan. But because Ethan never asked for a thing, and they still somehow managed to keep taking from him.

  "Are you going to answer that? Isn't time a consideration here?"

  Jesse started and dug his phone out of his pocket. Before he could speak, Gideon was barking at him. "Are you ready?"

  "We're all set here. You?"

  "Yes."

  "How's Emma?"

  "She's good. Did he show up?"

  "Yes," Jesse answered. "Okay, it's just like we rehearsed. Are you ready to start?"

  Jesse heard something muffle and then Gideon speaking to Emma, and then the other man's voice clear on the line. "We're ready."

  Jesse set the phone to speaker and sat cross-legged on the cool grass, facing Ethan. Ethan rested his arms on his knees casually. "Start reading on three. One...two..."

  * * * *

  "...three."

  Though she knew what was supposed to come, it was still surprising to hear the chant flow so fluidly from Gideon's tongue, the Gaelic falling naturally without faults or hesitations. Over the speakerphone, she heard Jesse chanting as well, creating a slight echo as the two voices melded into one. The slight breeze in the air picked up the corner of the page Gideon was reading from, but his broad hand shifted to hold it down, his gaze never wavering from the words.

  It had been a relief to hear that Ethan was there. Emma had slept poorly for the past two nights, haunted by the chaos of Ethan's emotions. Thankfully, Jesse and Gideon had been far too busy with all their preparations to notice her distraction, or if they had, they'd had the grace not to comment on it. But she had still worried. She'd been tempted more than once to call Ethan and confirm that, yes, he was going to be there, but each time, she'd talked herself out of it. She feared the risk of losing his help at all. At least now she didn't have to.

  The summer night was promising to be a cool one, thin clouds wisping through the sky. Though she had seen the graveyard by day, it was eerie at night, the plain markers for those buried in the Cook County Cemetery for the Indigent like black stains on the overgrown grass. Few of the graves were marked. It was a place for the forgotten to be lost forever. When Emma had seen the two spots where the ritual was to take place, she had insisted that Jesse put Ethan in the more populated Mount Calvary. She didn't want to give him even more reason to hate her.

  Seeing Gideon sitting cross-legged on the grass was weird, but probably no weirder than watching the flames edging the black circle around her dance in rhythm with his words. No speaking, they had said. No moving. But her skin was starting to crawl at the same tempo of the candles. Nobody had mentioned that. Nobody had said that she'd feel like someone had glued her butt to the grass while her flesh tried everything it could to escape its prison.

  Then the black powder that ringed her began to glow.

  Nobody had mentioned glowing, either.

  "Gideon..."

  She murmured his name without moving her lips, afraid to do anything that would disturb the ritual too much. He didn't lift his head, but by the flickering candlelight, she saw his lashes lift as he glanced at her through them.

  What was she doing? He couldn't stop the chanting and answer her questions. And the sight of the circle didn't even make him look twice.

  She needed to relax. It was just part of the spell. If Gideon wasn't worried, then she shouldn't be either.

  Gideon wasn't the one in the middle of it, though. And now, the wind was definitely stronger.

  Emma focused on the sounds of their voices. Jesse's, Gideon's...the knowledge that both of them were still speaking without interruption. Her walls had to be down for this to work, and for the first time since they'd decided who'd be where, she was glad she didn't have Jesse. She didn't want to know how he was feeling at the moment. It was better having a harder-to-read Gideon on hand. The last thing she needed was to have to deal with unexpected panic or worry that wasn't her own.

  The wind was whistling in her ears. From the dance of the flames, it didn't look as if it was blowing any harder, but her skin and senses said otherwise. She could barely hear Gideon any more, but she knew the second he stopped reading.

  That was the second the world went electric.

  * * * *

  Ethan had worked in retail, in customer service, for eight years, so it was easy to be pleasant. He just imagined himself in that damned red vest, wearing that damned smile, and treating Jesse cordially came easy enough. A million ways to sabotage the night had occurred to him in the past few nights, but ultimately, he decided that the red-vest-route was the way to go. Emma would never love him, but there was no reason to make her hate him.

  He forgot about his forced pleasantness when Jesse started the chant. His skin tingled, his bones itched, and it felt like his brain was trying to crawl through his nose. He tried to focus on the candles around him, but he couldn't see anything. The night was falling hard, all black and thick and he thought he would be lost in it. He struggled to keep himself from closing off. Jesse hadn't specifically mentioned keeping his walls down, but that seemed an obvious instruction. What good would an empath do them if he tried to resist the magic?

  But Ethan wanted to resist, like a child turning away from some heinous vegetable. The powder igniting around him offered a bit of light in the darkness, something that could focus him, but the comfort was short-lived. He watched the light move with the cadence of Jesse's words, following the quivering light with his mind until he found Jesse again. He clung to the words tightly, focusing himself to concentrate on each sound, until he was soundlessly mouthing the chant.

  Ethan wished he was drunk. He wished he wasn't there. He wished he hadn't tried to hurt Emma. He wished he had a chance to do everything again. His fingertips sizzled, and to his horror, he realized he couldn't hear Jesse any more.

  Where did he go? What's going on? Oh, fuck...

  The burn spread up his hands, like a million fire ants marching across his skin. There was a sharp buzzing in his ear, and it grew louder and louder, electricity humming in a still night. That was why he couldn't hear Jesse.

  Is this wrong? Something is wrong. Something is wrong.

  Once he had that thought, he couldn't shake the fear. Even as he realized his walls were down. Even as he knew he was broadcasting every single flicker of terror in Jesse's direction. Would it consume Jesse? Would it hurt him? Would it stop him? Was Ethan going to fuck up the ritual after all his best intentions to behave? Ethan tried to pull back the endless string of anxiety, but it pooled from him, spreading farther and farther, seeking another warm body.

  The world twisted suddenly, throwing him backward. He felt himself falling to meet the earth, felt it stunningly cold against his back. The ants marched up his arms
, down his chest, settled in his groin. The buzzing intensified.

  "Ethan."

  Ethan shook his head.

  "Ethan.... working... more... one more... don't... almost done..."

  The ground quaked beneath him, tossing him into the air. He slammed against the ground and was jerked up again and again. "Please...stop....please..." Maybe he said it. Maybe he didn't. His head was going to explode. Elephants marched through his skull, bruising his brain until he thought blood was coming out his ears, his eyes, his nose, his teeth.

  And then there was blessed, cool blue. Blue everywhere. A voice bled through the solid wall of color.

  "Gideon? Is Emma okay?"

  * * * *

  Gideon gazed down at the small body on the ground, afraid to cross the black circle that ringed her. Jesse's question rang in his ear, but it wasn't until he saw Emma stir that he could bring himself to answer.

  "It looks like she's fine. Can I cross the circle yet?"

  "Yes, go ahead. She's awake? Ethan's out."

  "Out?" He didn't waste any more time getting to Emma, stepping over the extinguished candles to crouch at her side. She groaned as she rolled onto her back, but the eyes that lifted to his were clear and coherent. "Why is he out?"

  "I'm guessing it was the blow to the head. He started blocking the magic. The harder he pushed, the worse it was for him. Wait a second..." He heard Jesse moving around before, "There's no blood. A lump though."

  Gideon pressed an expert hand over Emma's body, searching for any signs of injury. She didn't say a word as she gazed up at him, but her heart was gradually slowing to a natural rhythm and the scent of magic was dissipating from her skin. When she reached out a tremulous hand, he passed over the phone without hesitation, just relieved things went a little more smoothly on his end.

  "I'm fine," Emma said into the phone. "What's wrong with Ethan?"

  Gideon listened to Jesse give the same explanation again, slipping his arm beneath her to help her to her feet. "Ask if you can leave the circle yet," he prompted.

  Emma repeated the question and then said, "He wants me to wait a few more minutes. Just to be safe...what, Jesse?" Emma frowned. "No, he never mentioned who he was going home with." She held out the phone. "He wants to talk to you."

  "I think I need to take him to the hospital," Jesse announced.

  Gideon glanced at Emma, keeping his features even. "Do you want any help with that?"

  "I think I can get him to the hospital." Jesse paused. "You need to call Derek. And get Emma home. She sounds tired."

  "Home home? Or--"

  "Your place," Emma finished. "Please?"

  Gideon nodded, but said into the phone, "I'm assuming you don't have any problems with that."

  "No, no, of course not. Don't tell her that we're taking a detour to the hospital. I don't want her to needlessly worry right now. He might wake up before we get there."

  "We'll see you at home, then."

  Disconnecting, Gideon punched in Derek's number, bearing the slight weight of Emma's body as she leaned into him. Derek answered on the first ring, but the brusque tone of his voice already told him more than he wanted to know.

  "You want to tell me why I have a dead guy sprawled on a fresh grave, Gideon?"

  "Because we always get the bad guy in the end?"

  His quip fell flat. "This wasn't the deal. I'm supposed to have the collar, remember? Instead, I've got a guy who spent the past five minutes having a fit in the dirt, and then landed flat on his face. I can't lock up a dead body."

  "No, but you can link that dead body to all of your open cases, and save the courts the cost and bother of a trial. See how that works out?"

  Derek's disgusted snort blasted in his ear. "Consider yourself lucky that it was so many open cases. That's the only thing keeping me from showing up at your place in the morning and staking you."

  He hung up before Gideon could respond. He didn't blame Derek. They hadn't exactly been honest with him about how the ritual was going to turn out when they'd asked him to keep an eye on the third graveyard. He'd even accepted their explanation about why the ritual needed to finish first before he could make a move. Derek was likely going to be a little touchy to work with for a while.

  "The wind has stopped," Emma announced. "I think it's okay for me to get out of here now."

  Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Gideon helped her out of the circle. "Ready to go home?" he asked.

  The smile she gave him was small, but real. "Ready."

  Chapter 23

  * * *

  "Is he awake?" Michelle asked as she bustled into the room.

  Jesse shook his head. "They took him back to an exam room about twenty minutes ago. I haven't heard anything."

  "What did you do to him?"

  "Used him as a focal point in some dark magic to siphon and redirect power."

  "Oh, is that all?" Michelle asked, settling in the chair beside him. "Why did he agree to that? Why did you even ask him?"

  "Because Emma asked him, and we needed him. Can you stay?"

  Michelle nodded. "You're not going to?"

  Any other time, Jesse would have stayed right where he was. He wasn't the sort of guy to put another man in the hospital and abandon him there, but both John and Emma were waiting for him. And he was exhausted. Performing the ritual itself hadn't drained him, but the onslaught of Ethan's fear and pain, coupled with the effort of getting him to the hospital, had left Jesse feeling a bit weak.

  "I've got to visit a few other people."

  "You promised me an explanation," she reminded him.

  Jesse ran his fingers through his hair. "I can give you the short version right now. Emma and I love each other, I'm pretty sure Emma loves Gideon, and if he doesn't love her, he's quite fond of her, and we're all very happy together."

  Michelle didn't say anything. She didn't have to. Her disapproving eyes said it all.

  "I didn't plan any of this."

  "Just don't let her get hurt, Jesse. Ethan was good for her. He's safe."

  "I would never let anything happen to her."

  "Right, because then you'd have to answer to me."

  "Right." Jesse kissed her cheek and stood. "I've got to go now. Call me if...well, call me when you know what's going on."

  "Are you okay to drive? You look like shit."

  "I'll be fine," Jesse promised, glancing once more in the direction they took Ethan. He'd be fine, but what if Ethan had to deal with something more serious? Why did Ethan fight him so hard? Why did he try to resist the magic? He had almost fucked up the entire spell--and they were all lucky that the only person he ended up hurting was himself.

  He left Michelle in the waiting room, hurrying to the parking lot. John's house was only a few miles away. He could double-check on his friend, make sure that the spell had worked properly, and then be home to Gideon and Emma within the hour. That was all he wanted. To crawl into bed with them, hold Emma tightly in his arms, feel Gideon against him, know that they were both safe, and his, and everything was going to be fine.

  Jesse was still consumed by those thoughts when he reached John's. As he stepped out of the Jeep, the hair on his neck and arms stood on end, like the air was full of electricity. But it wasn't electricity, Jesse realized. The magic that had been leeched from John's home had returned. He knocked on the door and waited. This time, he wouldn't use the key John had provided him--the wards would be back in place.

  John didn't answer right away, but Jesse was saved from having to knock a second time by the sound of footsteps approaching the door. They were slow and even, but the simple fact that he could rise and do it at all was a good sign. It swung open to reveal a wan but upright John, smiling even before he stepped aside to allow Jesse room to enter.

  "I have my best tea brewing," he said. "I think tonight deserves a little celebration."

  Jesse returned his smile and stepped into the house. "It does, but I can't stay long. I just wanted to make sure that e
verything worked properly with no unforeseen consequences."

  John led him straight past the front room he usually used for entertaining and into the kitchen. "As far as I can tell," came the even answer. "There was some...well, I suppose interference is the best word for it. But as you can see..." He waved a hand and the sudden smell of fresh pastry filled the warm room. "Things are flowing smoothly now."

  "Good. I spoke to Derek. He was at the cemetery with our mysterious friend. Well, our late mysterious friend." He accepted the cup of tea from John. "You'll only use all your new power for good, right?"

  "Well, that's no fun, now is it?" At Jesse's frown, John rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. I think I'm allowed a joke or two in light of everything. And absorbing someone else's power is never an easy process anyway. I have no idea how this foe of mine did it so easily." He fidgeted with his collar. "I imagine it'll take some time for me to adjust to how it feels. It leaves me rather itchy, to be honest."

  "Itchy is better than being split in two by the force of the returning power. Derek should be able to get an ID on the remains. Hopefully, we'll at least know who this foe of yours was. For whatever good that'll do."

  A sly smile curved John's mouth. "It's always good to know where your enemies come from," he said. "Remember that." Almost daintily, he plucked a fresh scone from the platter on the counter. "How is the lovely Ms. Coolidge? No worse for wear, I hope?"

  "She sounds fine. I spoke to her, and she's tired, but Gideon took her home to rest. But the other empath, Ethan, is in the hospital."

  Some of John's mirth faded. "Why? I thought everything went well."

  "He tried to resist the magic and hit his head on the grave marker." Jesse set his half-empty cup down. "He was unconscious when I brought him to the emergency room. Michelle is with him now."

  The simple explanation seemed more than enough to satisfy John, and he turned back to his scone, pulling it apart into small pieces. "Not too bad for a night's work, then. One little concussion and a dead thief, and all is right with the world." He gestured toward the doorway, a fluff of pastry between his fingers. "I've set out some books for you in the hall. I'd like you to have them. Not payment, of course. A token of my friendship."