Possession (Fallen Angels #5)(55)
Author: J.R. Ward

“I went through the cupboards and the drawers. I found pretty much everything anyone would need.”

“Where’d you get all the food stuff?”

“I borrowed a motorcycle out back—”

Jim coughed coffee all over the place. “Wha—?”

“Oh, shoot, sorry,” Sissy said, bolting up for—oh, hey, they had paper towels, too. “Here, I got it.”

“No, it’s okay.”

Taking control of the Bounty picker-upper, he tried to get her to stop patting him down: She was so close to his chest, to his body, her scent getting in his nose, his brain, all kinds of wires being crossed. Especially as he thought of her on one of their Harleys.

“I didn’t know the bikes were off-limits.”

He cleared his throat. “They aren’t. I’m just, you know, surprised.”

She lowered herself back into her chair. “I wasn’t sure what else to do. I came down here, and there was nothing to eat … and I was going to take the Explorer, but I couldn’t find the keys. The Harley had its in the ignition.”

Jim blinked, trying to imagine her scrubbing out on one of those huge bikes they’d parked around back. Then something else occurred to him. “Wait a minute, how did you—”

“Turns out people can see me. If I concentrate hard enough.” She shrugged. “But I need to borrow fifteen dollars and seventy-two cents. I’ve never stolen anything before, and I’d rather be in debt to you than keep this petty theft on my conscience. It really isn’t sitting well.”

When he just stared at her, she flushed. “Look, all I did was go to the closest Qwikie Mart and disappear myself when I was in the store. I wasn’t sure what do to, but then I discovered that whatever I was holding disappeared with me. I took only bread, butter, coffee, and more eggs—that’s it. Oh, and the paper towels—which double as filters for the pot. And the cinnamon.” Abruptly, she leaned in. “You do have cash, right? I mean, your truck and the bikes all have gas in them, so I figure you must have some currency in your pockets.”

“Yeah, we do.” They were living off his savings, which were substantial, thanks to XOps paying well for hazardous duty and his having had no life outside of the military for twenty years. “That’s not a problem. And I don’t care that you took a bike, I’m just a little shocked that you could…”

“Handle it?”

“Well, yeah. Those things weigh a ton.”

“My dad taught me how to ride a long time ago. He had a Harley, too—has, I mean.” She stared down into her mug. “So, yeah, the breakfast is a peace offering. I’m really sorry about how I behaved last night. I just … it came over me. Everything exploded in my head—I shouldn’t have gone at you like that. You didn’t deserve it, and I am grateful for everything you’ve done for me.”

He looked into her eyes. “You don’t have to apologize. And I don’t blame you. This is not easy shit you’re dealing with.”

“It’s just hard to be so … in the dark about, like, everything.”

“You don’t remember?”

“How I ended up down there? Not really. I mean, I’ve got details up until I walked into the supermarket. After that? It’s a fog.”

Mixed blessing, he supposed. And he hoped it was the same for when she’d been in Devina’s—

“But I remember everything about that wall,” she said hoarsely. “Everything. I still swear I was stuck in that black prison for centuries.”

Damn it.

She helped herself to the last piece of toast, but then only took one bite before putting it aside. “I think that’s part of why I’m struggling. It’s all I’ve got, that … experience … with those others who were suffering. I close my eyes and it’s what I see and hear and smell—the stench and the twisting agony, the years of time passing.” As her voice cracked, she brushed under one eye as if clearing a tear. “It’s eating me up—and I thought that going to my parents’ would reconnect me, but it just reminded me of everything that I’m not anymore. I’ve got to have something concrete to put my feet on, but there’s nothing, is there.”

Basically what she’d said to him last night in the dark.

Jim took a page from her book and stared into his coffee. “Are you sure you want to know.” As she went utterly still, he looked over at her again. “Before you answer, think about it carefully. Some kinds of knowledge you can’t get rid of.” Abruptly, he thought of all the men he’d killed, some of whom up close. “Once it’s in your mind? It’s like a tattoo on your brain. It’s a permanent thing and you can’t go back.”

“Tell me,” she whispered without hesitation. “Even if it’s horrible … I have to know. I’m still a prisoner even though I’m out here—I’m still trapped, but it’s the ignorance now. There’s no context to anything, no structure, nothing but questions no one is answering. My mind … is eating itself alive.”

Shit, she was too young to feel like that. And he knew exactly where she was; he’d walked miles in those shoes, and not only was it hard, it had hardened him. Set his emotions in concrete.

He didn’t want that for her. “Do you mind if I smoke?”

“Not at all. It’s not like it’s going to give me cancer, and I kind of like the smell.”

He leaned to the side and took his lighter out of his back pocket. A second later, he had a Red between his lips and was taking a drag.

On the exhale, he noticed that his hands were stilling. Funny, he hadn’t been aware they were shaking.

“I don’t know everything.” He reached behind him to the counter, snagging an ashtray and putting it by his empty plate. “You need to be clear on that. I’m in the dark about a lot of shit.”

Which was a reminder, like he needed one, that he didn’t have much free time here. Still, he felt compelled to get her on as even a keel as he could. It was only fair—and she hadn’t gotten a lot of fair lately.

The war would have to wait just a little longer.

“So tell me,” she said, arms tightening around herself.

Jim opened his mouth, searched for words … and had no luck. There was another way, though. More dangerous, but it would more likely get her what she was looking for than any conversation they could have.