Bruno nodded. “John and I will set up temporary barriers for the horns—one for each, so they don’t touch or … go off.”
I took a deep breath. “Thank you for being willing to work with him. It’s not really what it looks like between us.”
Bruno sighed and there was pain in those brown eyes that I would erase if I could. “Yes. It is. It’s exactly what it looks like. But he reminded me rather strongly that I was the one who threw you away and that I didn’t have any right to blame him for catching you.” He shook his head in frustration. “I just wished he wasn’t so damned talented. It would be easier to hate him if I didn’t respect him so much.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. We looked at each other, feeling lost. I took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Creede’s been very kind and I can’t deny he’s awfully hard to resist. But we haven’t gone to where you and I have. If that helps any.”
His smile and chuckle weren’t up to his normal standards. “A little. But I can’t ignore how you look at each other and I honestly can’t say he wouldn’t be better for you. I’ve got … a lot of thinking to do.” He raised my hand to his lips and gave it a gentle kiss. “I do love you, Celie. You know that.”
My laugh was a little teary around the edges. “You did last time, too. And the time before.”
He nodded and tucked my arm under his as we walked back across the beach. John stood watching, leaning on the Mustang with arms crossed.
I had the feeling it was going to be a long, restless night for both of us.
Maybe for all three of us.
20
Night turned to morning and I watched every freaking second unfold. My brain had run at full tilt the whole night. I even tried sleeping medicine. Note to self: Drugs that should be taken with food, even if crushed and dissolved in a shake, don’t sit well when there’s only liquid in your stomach. No matter how nutritious the liquid is. The medication insisted on coming back out the way it had gone in, and then I had to drink another shake after scrubbing the taste of bile from my tongue.
But even the unmistakable sounds of vomiting didn’t wake Adriana. I’d offered her a room after we’d stayed up late reading library books. She’d stayed because she hadn’t wanted to incur a mother’s wrath by calling Okalani to transport her past curfew. After meeting the girl’s mother, I didn’t blame my cousin.
I yawned loudly around the house until a second cup of coffee finally got me to a semblance of alertness. I’d discovered that pouring one of the chocolate shakes into the coffee adds the sugar and cream I like, plus a little chocolaty goodness. Strolling down the hall with cup in hand, I rapped on Adriana’s bedroom door for the third time. “C’mon, Adriana. Daylight’s burning. We need to get moving.” I still had to return the rental car. She was going to follow me in my car and then we were going to take back the books we’d finished and see if there were any Dawna had missed.
I’d learned during our late-night reading session that Adriana had been asked to meet with my friend Bubba and find him a new boat. Of course, that was before the rift appeared, but Adriana was a “duty first” sort of person, so I was betting she’d try to fit it in.
Adriana didn’t respond to my knock, but there were … noises behind the door. Either she’d snuck someone into the room and was having really intense sex or something was very, very wrong. I tried the knob, but the door was locked.
Damn it. I really hated the thought of kicking down one of my own doors, but it wasn’t the kind of lock set that used a key.
Sigh.
I put the coffee cup on the floor, far enough from the door that it might not spill during a fight, and put my shoulder to the door. Maybe I could pop the lock without tearing off the whole doorjamb. Supernatural strength is occasionally a good thing. The wood was solid against me and I pushed in tiny increments, feeling the door bow under the pressure. They’re solid-core doors—Vicki built the guesthouse to withstand a Category Three hurricane—so I didn’t have to worry about a thin layer of veneer cracking. By pushing in the exact center, I was hoping the hardware would give way first.
It did.
It was a good thing I had one hand braced on the wall or when the door yielded I would have landed on the floor. There were no intruders or secret lovers in the room, but I ran in because Adriana was on the floor, tangled in bedsheets and thrashing. Her eyes were rolled back in her head and she was making odd grunts and hand motions. I’d seen the same thing before more than once … with Vicki. Okalani’s mother had told me that Adriana was a prophet, the sirens’ term for a clairvoyant. It was one reason she would never be queen. She was apparently a pretty powerful one, too.
I did for her the same things I always did for Vicki. I got Adriana into a sitting position with her back against the side of the bed, propped up by the nightstand. Vicki had once almost choked to death on her own tongue while thrashing on the floor. Then I put a cold, damp washcloth on the back of Adriana’s neck. Vicki always swore it helped her climb back out of the vision to reality.
Then I sat down to wait. Clairvoyants are always the most vulnerable when in a vision. They need to be guarded from danger. It was one reason Vicki had chosen to live at Birchwoods. There were empaths there who would know she was having a vision because they could sense the changes in her emotions and would send an attendant to watch over her.
I’d barely grabbed my coffee and taken up residence in the comfy corner chair when Adriana came to with a start. I didn’t say a word until she reached back and grabbed the washcloth from her neck and stared at it with an odd expression.
“My friend who was a prophet always said it helped her get back to the real world.”
Adriana finally focused on me after long moments of staring. Then she nodded. “It did. Thank you. I’d never considered that such a simple thing could work. It was as though you threw down a rope ladder for me to grab.”
I took a sip of coffee. “You’re welcome. You had a vision?” I’d also learned not to ask Vicki what the vision was about. Frequently she wouldn’t tell me because she either didn’t trust the images or couldn’t interpret them so soon after they had happened. Or the vision might involve me and she didn’t want me to know. Sometimes she’d simply say yes. Only occasionally would she give details. It was often frustrating to be the friend of a clairvoyant, but they desperately needed friends who would simply ignore the visions and give them space. Emma, on the other hand, wanted to be asked about the details. She didn’t get many visions, so she needed help to interpret them. It was often frustrating to be the friend of a clairvoyant, but they desperately needed friends who could give them what they needed—ignoring the visions and giving them space or prodding them to recall everything.
Adriana nodded. “Yes. And now I understand your spirit prophet’s urgency yesterday. It truly is critical that we visit the gentleman in Arkansas. Today.”
Really? “Care to tell me why? What are we looking for?”
She shook her head and dropped her gaze to the floor, her frustration clear. “It’s complicated. There were so many images. But I believe there’s a chance the missing instructions for the horns are there.”
In Arkansas? “That’s a long way from Atlantis. And Serenity.”
She pulled herself to her feet using the bed and nightstand. “Indeed it is. But I’m quite certain. We’re going to need help, though. There’s strong magic involved. I saw multiple threads where we found the instructions but other images of us failing and dying.”