She glanced up at me and frowned. I guess she was probably wondering why I was going on about all this when she wanted to focus on her wedding details. She brought her attention back to the book and plucked off another Post-it note, placing it directly in the middle of the picture, like it was awarded Most Important or something. “Yeah, he got a flat tire—why are you asking me this?”
I took a deep breath, knowing there was one more question I needed to ask, one more piece to this puzzle that I had to find. “Who did we meet first, Rand or Sinjin?” I cleared my throat.
“Why does it matter?” she asked, clearly much more interested in the colors, bouquets, and table arrangements that were splayed around her.
“Um, it doesn’t matter,” I answered quickly, hoping to sound casual, unconcerned. “I just wondered if you remembered,” I added, trying to give my questions a semblance of normalcy. “Was it Rand or Sinjin?”
She immediately opened her mouth, as if she had the answer right on the tip of her tongue, but then shut it just as quickly and glanced up at me. Her expression told me she didn’t have a clue. She frowned and shook her head.
“Um, God, who was it? Jeez, is my memory that bad?” Then she was quiet for a little while longer, but it wasn’t because her attention was elsewhere, on the upcoming wedding, for example. No, she was genuinely trying to remember. She shook her head. “It’s really foggy. How weird! But I literally can’t remember who came into the store first.” Then she faced me again. “Who was it? Do you remember?”
“Rand,” I said as I debated whether to tell her about the whole time-traveling saga. I knew it would come up eventually, but so far I just didn’t have the energy to divulge it. And I couldn’t say I was feeling any more energetic at the moment. “Rand came into the store first,” I repeated. “We met him before we ever met Sinjin.” And that was the truth as far as I was concerned. It was also what I’d convinced myself to believe. Regardless of what Sinjin did to manipulate time, Rand had come into my life first.
Christa seemed to consider it for a few more moments and then nodded, looking up at me with a smile. “Yeah, that’s right. That’s how I remember it too.” She shook her head again. “How weird that I couldn’t remember it before. It was like I thought they both were first. Guess I’m not getting enough sleep,” she said and laughed. “Sheesh!”
I smiled back at her and couldn’t help the anxiety that suddenly flooded my body. It seemed that every time I thought about Sinjin, something rebelled inside of me and made me feel nauseous, sick to my stomach over what had happened between us and his banishment. I just didn’t feel good about the decision, even now. I couldn’t wipe away my fear that he might cross paths with the Lurkers, as improbable as that seemed. I mean, Sinjin could be anywhere and the Lurkers could be anywhere, so what made me think their “anywheres” might collide?
Christa closed the Martha Stewart book and moved on to the one just beside it, a, much smaller book that was black and red. She opened it and then smiled up at me impishly.
“What’s that?” I asked, trying to shake away the feelings of sickness that lodged in my gut. I felt light-headed, winded and ill—like I had motion sickness or something. It was sudden and … weird.
She opened the book and scanned a few pages, pausing for dramatic effect. Then she looked back up at me and smiled again. That’s when I knew something was up.
“Well?” I prompted as I shook my head, laughing all the while. “I can tell the book is naughty just by the way you’re looking at me.”
She giggled in return and then nodded. “ ‘How to Free Your Inner Sex Diva,’ ” she read from the cover, only to flip back to the inside of the book almost immediately.
I sighed deeply and couldn’t help laughing. “Chris, there’s no possible way you could free your sex diva anymore. It’s already broken its leash and is halfway down the block.”
She giggled again and sat up straight, crossing her legs Indian-style. She began thumbing through the pages before she glanced up at me and read: “ ‘Tip Number Thirty-two: It’s all about your nipples. Get in the mood by touching them. Massage them, squeeze them, and roll them between your fingers.’ ” She looked up at me again and then returned her attention to the book. “ ‘Put ice on them,’ ” she whispered in a sultry voice.
“Oh my God,” I said and rolled my eyes. “What kind of tip is that? What’s the point?”
She shrugged. “ ’Cause it feels good and gets you in the mood.”
“Ice?” I repeated. How could that possibly feel good? I exhaled, feeling like my overwhelmed mind couldn’t handle any more. I mean, I didn’t have the time or the interest to deal with wedding details, so I really didn’t have it in me to focus on silly sexual advice. “Can we go back to the wedding stuff?”
“This is important, Jules,” she argued, looking at me like she was a teacher disappointed with her star student. Then she arched a brow and considered me with interest. “I bet Rand would appreciate it.”
I shook my head, but I couldn’t help but smile. That smile quickly turned into a frown as I realized I was giving in and waving my white flag of surrender. “Okay, read me another one.”
She smiled and thumbed through a few more pages, apparently looking for something extra juicy. “Hmmm … pubic mound, lubrication … um, what else? Ah, here we go …” Then she flicked her finger against the page like she’d really found something worthwhile.
“What?” I asked, my tone halfway between resignation and interest.
“Watch yourself in the mirror,” she finished, and smiled up at me slyly.
“Watch yourself in the mirror doing what?” I fished. “That sounds pretty dumb.”
She frowned at me and then shook her head like I was a hopeless cause and it was a wonder I was even having sex. “Come on, Jules, watch yourself you know … titillating yourself, rubbing the ol’ kitty!”
“Oh God,” I started, shaking my head in disgust even though the idea didn’t totally appall me. It was just easier to pretend I had no interest in this sort of thing. Otherwise it would only encourage Christa and that would be like opening Pandora’s box. “Why?”
She frowned. “It’s supposed to be kinky and erotic, Jules. You need to get in touch with that side of yourself.”
I shook my head and just laughed. “So tell me how any of this helps Rand and me in the bedroom?”
She smiled again and slapped the book shut, as if I’d finally asked her the right question. “Because it puts you in the right frame of mind for sex and turns you into a sexual being, a sexual diva … like me. I think about sex constantly.”
“Trust me, I’m well aware,” I muttered. A dull ache began to spread behind my eyes, making me feel light-headed again and nauseous. I gripped my head and leaned back against the couch, closing my eyes.
“What’s wrong with you?” Chris asked.
“I just got a killer headache,” I said.
“Gosh, Jules, you don’t have to be such a prude!” she barked at me. Then she burst out laughing. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you just pretended to have a headache to get out of talking about sex with me! Ha, that’s supposed to just work on men!”
“No, I really don’t feel well,” I said, and shook my head, wishing I was pretending.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, her voice a little more caring.
“I don’t know,” I said, feeling the ache behind my eyes dissipate as I magicked it away. “I just suddenly didn’t feel very good. It was weird.” I opened my eyes and faced her again, feeling nausea bubble up inside of me. I magicked it away and felt it disappear as quickly as it had come. “I felt like I was going to throw up.”
“Hmm … maybe you’re getting the flu or maybe you ate something bad?”
I swallowed hard as I realized that the cause might not be so simple. Why? Because I had felt exactly the same way when the Lurkers attacked me in my sleep. I’d gotten incredibly sick afterward, and this was what it had felt like in the beginni
ng—extreme nausea and light-headedness coupled with a developing ache behind my eyes. Had I been attacked again? If so, it had apparently happened in the broad daylight! Could the Lurkers enter my psyche without going through my dreams? Did that mean they were getting stronger?
Jolie, you’re totally freaking out for no reason, I told myself. Maybe Christa is right and you’re experiencing the first symptoms of a flu. I mean, when you think about it, you really aren’t that sick. You’re just a little nauseous.
But this is how it felt after that Lurker attack, I argued with myself.
Yes, and this is also how it felt the last time you had food poisoning or the flu.
I stood up and smiled down at Christa, trying to appear unconcerned. I mean, there was no use in getting her worried—at least not until I knew what was wrong with me for sure. “I’m going to head home, Chris,” I said. “Not sure if I ate something bad or not, but I really feel sick.”
She stood up and gave me a hug. “Sure, don’t worry about it. And thanks for stopping by and helping me out with everything. It was great to see you.”
It was something you would say to someone you hadn’t seen in a while. I felt a rush of guilt. I knew it was true. We hadn’t been as close lately as in the past. It was mainly because my life had basically become a complete disaster. “Sure, Chris, it’s my job,” I said, and smiled. “Sorry I’ve been so busy, but I’m here for you whenever you need me.”
She nodded and smiled at me sweetly. “I know how busy you are, Jules, and I know you’re stressed out, so don’t worry about me.”
“Well, don’t hold back when you have questions about DJs, food, linens, or your dress,” I said, and started for the door, before turning back to face her again. “Especially your dress. I definitely want to be part of that.”
“Oh, you’ll totally be a part of that, Jules! I mean, you are my best friend—it’s like your duty.”
I laughed as she walked me to the door, opening it wide while I beeped my silver Range Rover Freelander unlocked. Suddenly seized with the feeling that I was going to throw up again, I hurried over to the car.
I made it as far as the rear door behind the driver’s seat before I hunched over on my knees and threw up between my feet.
Later that night, after convincing Christa I was fine to drive home, I went to bed early, still feeling under the weather. I decided that my illness had nothing to do with the Lurkers, so I didn’t bother warning anyone. Christa must have been right after all. When I focused my magic on them, the feelings recessed and I actually felt okay for a little while—something I hadn’t been able to do when I was attacked by the Lurkers before.
I felt another bout of nausea bubble up inside of me and closed my eyes, bathing myself in white light while I willed the feelings to go away. I felt better as soon as I opened my eyes, but I also knew that the feelings would return in a matter of an hour or so. I couldn’t seem to delay them permanently. Maybe I’d been struck with a really strong strain of flu?
Jolie? It was Rand’s voice in my head.
Yes?
Are you well? he asked, and I had to imagine that somehow my nausea had transferred over to him through our bond.
Yes, I think I just ate something bad and now I’m paying for it. I tried to remain unconcerned. Are you feeling the same way I am? I hope you’re not sick too because of our bond?
He didn’t answer, but somehow I knew the answer was no. He must have shaken his head or something because the feeling had transferred over our mental connection, slight though it was.
Are you certain it is something you ate? he continued, worry lacing his tone. And not something more … serious?
Rand’s middle name should have been Overprotective or possibly Overconcerned. I laughed and hoped I sounded nonchalant. Yes, just minor food poisoning or a slight flu. It’s nothing my magic can’t handle.
Okay, I just wanted to make certain you were all right, he finished. I do worry about you.
That’s the understatement of the century, I thought, and laughed.
Hey! Rand thought back.
I laughed again. I’m fine, Rand, but thanks for checking in on me.
Very good, he thought hurriedly, and I had to imagine he was busy with his ledgers at Pelham Manor. He’d been there for the last day, saying he needed to catch up on taxes and other administrative matters.
I miss you, I thought, wishing more than ever before that Rand were with me so I could snuggle against him and fall asleep in his arms, the only place I ever felt truly safe.
I immediately felt an outpouring of love coming from him. I miss you too, Jolie. More than you know. I look forward to tomorrow.
Tomorrow Rand would be returning to Kinloch. Currently we were splitting our time between Pelham Manor and Kinloch Kirk, but we spent much more time in my home, because it was my official royal residence. I missed Pelham Manor terribly.
Good night, Rand, I whispered. I can’t wait to see you either. I love you.
Good night, my love, and feel better.
I closed my eyes, but opened them again when I heard his voice.
Oh, and one other thing, he started.
Yes?
I love you too.
I smiled as I closed my eyes again, hoping the morning would bring not only a new day but a healthier me.
I wasn’t sure at what point sleep claimed me, but before I knew it, I was floating in a sea of purple, balmy waves, which carried me farther and farther from the shore. I watched the tuft of land as it faded from view, and before I knew it I was surrounded by nothing but limitless ocean.
“Do not be afraid.” The voice was deep and definitely belonged to a man.
I glanced up from where I was floating and looked around, but I saw no one, just the purple of the sea that juxtaposed itself against the pitch-black of the sky.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“Below you,” came the quick response.
I looked down but saw nothing but the vast sea, which revealed nothing more than an amethyst void. “I don’t understand,” I started.
“I am the sea,” the voice continued.
“Oh,” I responded, not at all surprised that the sea could speak, and was actually quite chatty. Dreams can be funny like that. “What do you want?” I asked, leaning my head back into the water as I stared up into the black sky and watched it fill with twinkling white orbs of light. Little by little the lights began to coalesce into the center of the sky, shining ever more brightly. Then they began to shift until they formed the outline of a man. Even though the man’s image was filled with nothing but bright light, based on his outline I could tell he had long hair and a beard, like Father Time.
“We want you, Jolie,” the sea answered, but somehow I knew the voice belonged to the glowing man in the sky.
“You want me for what?” I continued.
There was a deep, rumbling laugh that came from the ocean, causing small waves to ripple around me, pushing me this way and that until I started to feel seasick. “Please stop, you’re making me sick,” I said.
Immediately, the laughing faded away and I was once again floating in a calm sea. “Your sickness is not by our will,” the phantom voice announced.
I shrugged, unconcerned, because the nausea had evaporated as soon as the sea stopped laughing. “Who are you?” I asked.
“I am the Supreme Elder of my people, of your people,” the voice came back, loud and clear. “You must return to your rightful place beside me and rule as the Queen you were meant to be.”
“Who are your people?”
“You refer to us as Lurkers.”
I felt my stomach drop, even though I was dreaming. I wanted to be sick. “You are my enemies,” I said softly.
“We are not your enemies. And you must take your rightful place as the Queen of your own kind.”
“I am Queen of the Underworld,” I demanded.
“You are Queen of charlatans,” the voice continued, sounding gruff and upset.
“You must join us and return to your people and rule as you were intended to.” The voice was quiet for a second or two. “You are one of us. You have always been one of us.”
And before I could ask any questions, I woke up.
I was covered in a cold sweat. I could feel the perspiration beading down the small of my back as my heart raced, like an earthquake was rumbling through my body. It was still dark outside and the wind was whipping through the trees, causing the branches to scratch against the windows. I suddenly had the urge to escape, to run through the moors of heather that bordered Kinloch Kirk and just disappear into the cold night air.
Feeling restless, I threw off the duvet cover and stood up, running my hand down the back of my neck and wiping the sweat on my pajama bottoms. I strode to the window and watched the clouds struggle with the moon, trying to obscure it in an effort to hide its luminescence. A gentle rain started, and after a few minutes it gave way to heavy drops that splattered against the glass.
A feeling of dizziness consumed me, and I reached out, stabilizing myself against the back of a boudoir chair as I closed my eyes and willed the feeling to go away. As soon as the dizziness faded, nausea started churning my gut, roiling the contents of my stomach. Suddenly feeling certain I was going to throw up, I clasped my hand over my mouth and bolted for the bathroom off my bedroom. I made it as far as the sink before hurling. I heaved a few more times until there wasn’t anything left and then turned on the water as I tried to catch my breath.
Glancing up into the mirror, I could see my own concern and fear. I was pale—paler than I’d ever seen myself—and the hair around my face was wet with perspiration. I closed my eyes, imagining my mouth filling up with Listerine to eradicate the bitter taste. When I opened them, I tasted fresh mint but was in no way relieved.
Something was wrong with me. But it wasn’t a flu or food poisoning. No, something was definitely rotten in the state of Denmark, and now I was convinced that the rottenness had something to do with the Lurkers.
As soon as the thought crossed my mind, my stomach became agitated again and I leaned over, gagging anew. But as before, there was nothing left, so I just choked on my spit as my stomach contorted with pain. After gaining control of myself, I stood up, inhaling for a count of three and exhaling for a count of three.