Chronicles of Julian, page 18
The woman holding her murmured quiet words of comfort, trying to explain what had happened, trying to calm her down. But she wouldn’t stop screaming, and she wouldn’t lower that finger. She was still shouting when she vanished up the stairs, leaving a ringing silence in her wake.
Julian stared after her with an impossible expression.
Then he sighed quietly, leaning into Devon’s arms. “Take me home.”
Chapter 15
Less than three hours later, Julian was flying over the Mediterranean.
The PC assault team had arrived in a private jet that touched down along the riverfront. Out of respect for their fallen agent, the Knights had sent a jet for the trafficked women as well. As soon as they were all stabilized both planes had taken off at the same time, heading back to London.
One contained every person who had flown into Hungary.
The other contained a pilot, Devon, and the psychic himself.
“You want some breakfast?”
Devon emerged from the walkway, holding a paper-wrapped bagel in his hand. There hadn’t been much talking since take-off, to the point where he was nervous to be breaking the silence now.
“I know it’s still early,” he added hesitantly. “But I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten at the club.”
Julian stared a second too long, then blinked quickly. “What?”
It had been like that since take-off as well. Blame it on the blood-loss. Blame it on the two months in captivity. Blame it on the fact that he’d almost been mauled to death by a giant cat.
“I got you something. You should really eat.”
Julian nodded vaguely and turned back to the window.
Devon held the bagel uncertainly, then set it back on the table.
The closer they got to England, the more his partner had been slipping away. It was a feeling he was familiar with himself. Trauma came in waves—often stronger in the days after the actual event. Like a wound that stiffened overnight, it stretched painfully across the skin. A passing reference sent out agonizing aftershocks, and the slightest movement could tear it open afresh.
He was familiar with the feeling. But he’d never had a mission like this.
And he’d never seen that particular expression on his friend’s face.
“When Ilya explained what you were doing at the club...” Julian trailed into silence, trying to center his thoughts. “A buyer fell through?”
Devon nodded slowly, watching him all the while. “Yeah, he fell through a window. Molly swears it was an accident.”
He waited for a smile. At least the hint of a smile.
Nothing.
“There was a girl who was sold the night you came,” the psychic said suddenly. Was it still the same night? It was hard to keep things straight. “Blue eyes, dark hair. Her name was Fatima.”
Why am I talking about her in the past tense?
“They took her away in a van,” he continued quickly, as if despite the extended delay there suddenly wasn’t a second to spare, “said they were headed to the airport. Could we send men after them? See if they’ve seen anything like that at the gates? I know the protocol is usually—”
“We’ve had people at the airport for the last four weeks,” Devon interrupted quietly, “and no one stationed at the warehouse has leads on a missing van. They must have—”
“We need to find her, Devon.” Julian leaned forward with sudden intensity, staring into his friend’s eyes. “There has to be some kind of security feed we can follow. Or maybe...” He trailed off again, heart pounding in his chest. “We just need to find her—”
“And we will,” Devon interrupted carefully, slowing things down. Unlike his partner, he was actually able to hear that racing heartbeat. And he happened to know the man didn’t have much blood to spare. “I’m sure we will.”
I’m sure we won’t.
The plane went abruptly quiet as Julian turned back to the window, and Devon continued to quietly stare. He hadn’t expected a warm reception. He hadn’t expected anything but a broken man in desperate need of repair. But there was an edge to things for which he hadn’t been prepared.
“Why did you order the raid?”
Their eyes met across the plane.
In reality they both knew that Devon wasn’t able to ‘order’ anything, not without receiving permission for such a thing himself. But they also knew that he was the one who’d decided it was going to happen, regardless. He was the one who’d made the final call.
“We took the ship earlier this morning,” Devon said quietly, not quite able to meet his friend’s eyes. “The list was on board, like you said. It was a risk, but—”
“It was a risk,” Julian interrupted, never breaking his gaze. “The entire reason I was staying was to make sure I got that list. To make sure I was there for the second shipment—”
“And we got both,” Devon interrupted gently.
“You got lucky.”
Another silence fell between them, a bit sharper than the first. Neither man was looking for a confrontation, quite the contrary. But when the stakes were so high, the question had to be asked.
“Why did you order the raid?”
Devon looked at him a moment longer, then sighed. “Because when I walked into the club the other night, you looked exactly the same as the first day we met at Guilder. You looked lost,” he finished softly. “I couldn’t leave you like that.”
He bowed his head, speaking to his hands.
“It broke my heart.”
That was the last of the talking.
The men flew in silence for the duration of the journey. Julian stared out the window and dozed fitfully, rubbing at phantom pains from the healed wounds on his neck. Devon counted his breaths and pretended to be texting. Then he started actually texting. But it wasn’t until they’d crossed into British airspace that he found the nerve to speak.
“Julian?”
For the last hour, the man had been staring unblinkingly out the window. He didn’t register anything now—it was like a part of him was still asleep.
“Jules?”
The psychic glanced up suddenly, realizing he’d been listening for Alexi.
“Sorry—what?”
“There are some people who wanted to meet you at the airport,” Devon said hesitantly, waving his phone. “You want me to send them away? Everyone you need is waiting at the house.”
The psychic nodded faintly, staring at the window. “Yeah, I’ll just...I’ll just head to the house.”
BY THE TIME DEVON AND Julian rolled to a stop beside the Deckers’ cottage, there was a small group of people waiting on the lawn. They watched in silence as the psychic collided with his wife and daughter, wrapping an arm around each one before sinking abruptly onto the grass.
The little family held on to each other for a long time, exchanging tender kisses, murmuring things into each other’s hair. When they finally stood back up, it looked as though each one of them could breathe again. Angel stayed right beside him. Lily’s arms were locked around his neck.
The others waited as long as they were physically able before rushing forward as well.
“Good to see you again,” Julian murmured with a faint smile, shifting his daughter to the side as Rae darted in for a hug. “Got your own face and everything.”
She squeezed him tighter, closing her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
As tight as she was holding him, she was almost immediately dislodged by a pint-sized redhead who stared up at the psychic with tears in her ears.
“Never again,” she said simply.
He touched his forehead to hers. “Never again.”
The two of them embraced in silence, gripping with such strength it was bound to bruise the memory into their arms. Despite the shifting currents within the little group, the two had always shared a special connection. While Devon had dominated the apartment they’d leased alongside the warehouse, Molly had spent almost as much time keeping watch in Hungary herself.
“Luke and Gabriel are still out on assignment,” she explained, stroking back his messy waves of hair. “No one knew we’d be taking the warehouse so fast.”
Julian nodded, then lifted his eyes to the man who’d approved that order.
He’d been surprised to see Carter standing with the others, then not surprised at the same time. The man took an active interest in all his agents, and despite having married into Rae’s actual family he’d long since regarded the psychic as a second son.
They embraced as well, holding on for a long time.
“This isn’t going to be easy,” Carter murmured, gripping the back of his head. “I want you to take all the time you need, all right? All the time you need.”
Julian nodded shakily, still holding Lily in his arms.
“We should probably get her down for a nap,” Angel said pointedly, throwing the others a sharp look. She’d been waiting a long time for her husband. She didn’t want to share him.
The child tightened her grip, resting her cheek against her father’s neck. “Will you still be here when I wake up, Daddy?”
His heart clenched and he pressed a gentle kiss to her head. “Yeah, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”
ANGEL AND JULIAN STAYED in bed for the rest of the day, then for the rest of the night, then for most of the next day as well. There wasn’t much talking, there wasn’t much of anything. They simply lay there, gently intertwined. His head was in her lap. Her fingers played with his hair.
Then he started talking...and he couldn’t stop.
He told the story from start to finish, not sparing a single detail, not one of the gruesome things he’d seen. To be honest, he wasn’t sure he’d trust those ghosts with anyone else. Not even Devon—a person so hopeful and light. But his wife had been in those dark places before. And there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she could handle anything he had to say.
It poured out of him in a single, uncontrollable wave—then he slept for the next fourteen hours. When he awoke early the following morning, she was cooking in the kitchen downstairs.
“Good morning.” She glanced up when he walked inside, smiling at the tousled hair and sleepy yawn. “I was about to resuscitate you. I had several interesting ideas in mind.”
He flashed his first genuine smile since leaving Hungary, kissing her softly on the lips. “Do they involve fire-play? Because I told you I hated that.”
“They involve me,” she said lightly, “in varying states of undress. Then I remembered you hadn’t eaten in about three days, and I figured you should carb up first...for endurance.”
He smiled again, peering over her shoulder at the stove.
There were eggs and bacon, fried tomatoes and toast. A typical English breakfast. A single look and he abruptly realized that he was starving.
“How do you know I haven’t eaten?” he asked suddenly.
“Devon told me,” she answered, flipping the sausage. “He’s been over almost every day since you left. Mowed the lawn, brought us groceries. Pruned the pear tree in the backyard.”
Julian started nodding, then paused. “We don’t have a—”
“He planted one, so he could prune it.”
The psychic restrained a smile. “I’m sorry about him.”
She flipped her ivory hair, shrugging at the same time. “It wasn’t half-bad, actually. He played with Lily for hours. We watched movies some nights and drank wine.”
A few months ago, he would have thought she was joking. But things had gotten easier between them since he’d rescued her from the parking lot that day. While the exact details of what transpired had remained a mystery, they seemed to have found some common ground.
There was a knock at the door.
“That being said, he’s been a little clingy...”
Julian laughed softly, then made his way into the foyer—glancing out the window at the shorn monstrosity that used to be a pear tree in the backyard. He opened the door a second later, only to see his best friend standing with coffee and a Golden Retriever on the front porch.
“Is this an okay time?” He offered a cup. “I thought we might walk the dogs?”
The psychic regarded him fondly, then took it with a smile. “Let me get my coat.”
WALK THE DOGS was a quaint way of phrasing it, given that only one of them had a dog and the other had a massive wolf. But the two men walked together anyway, strolling up and down the little park that stretched between their houses, letting the animals roam free and soaking in the sun.
After a few minutes, they came to a stop beneath a cluster of birch trees. The silence had been building, and after a second of hesitation Julian pulled in a quiet breath.
“I don’t want to do this anymore.”
Devon’s head snapped up in his periphery, but he said nothing. By the time the psychic glanced over to confirm it, he’d cleared his face of expression and was simply waiting for the rest.
“I don’t want to see these things anymore,” Julian continued softly. “I know we’ve always talked about it, ever since we were kids, but I can’t...I can’t have all these things in my head.”
His partner drew in a breath, nodding silently at the grass.
However shocking the revelation, a part of him wasn’t surprised. For years, he’d watched his best friend perform casual miracles—carrying the burden of a thousand shifting futures to keep the people he loved safe in the present as well. It was an impossible balance, the weight of two worlds.
And yesterday on the plane, he’d caught a glimpse of the secret toll.
“I can understand that.”
Can you?
Julian glanced at him again before returning his eyes to the dogs. They were playing together now, chasing each other back and forth—vaulting occasionally off the base of the trees.
“Do you remember that group of shifters Carter was recruiting?” he asked suddenly. “They were training in the Oratory a few days before I left?”
Devon nodded, eyeing him curiously.
“When they were finished, one of them came up to me. He was all excited, kept talking about how incredible it must be to see the future, to save the lives of my friends.” Julian shook his head faintly. “I’ve heard that so many times. That’s what everyone says.”
There was a pause.
“But it’s not like that...not for me.”
He dug his hands into his pockets, staring up at the sky.
“You know I can’t remember the last day when I didn’t see someone die? I can’t remember a day. I’ll be sitting down for breakfast, then flash—Gabriel’s getting gunned down in Paris. I’ll be reading Lily a bedtime story, then flash—Molly’s getting hit by a train. And you?”
He gave a short laugh, shaking his head.
“I’ve buried you so many times, Devon. I’ve watched them lower you into the ground. Not like a dream, something that fades. This is real, it’s permanent. Something I can’t forget.”
His eyes tightened as they fixed on the ground.
“For every positive outcome, I have to trudge through a dozen nightmares. For every vision I get of how to eventually save someone, I have to go through nine more beforehand—seeing the ways they die. My wife, even my daughter. Over and over, every single one of you...for years.”
He chanced a sideways glance at his friend, measuring his expression.
“I don’t mean to...” He trailed off, flushed with sudden embarrassment and wondering how to explain. “I don’t mean to complain—”
“You’re not complaining,” Devon interrupted quietly. “I couldn’t imagine having to live the way you do, having to see the things you do. If it was Arie or James...?”
He shook his head, unable to continue.
They lapsed back into silence, staring across the park. It was a conversation neither of them had planned on having. Even Julian was surprised when the words came out of his mouth. But now that he’d finally said them, he couldn’t believe that he hadn’t done it sooner.
“You remember that girl as we were leaving the warehouse? The one who pointed at me and screamed? Seven weeks, I walked past the door and saw that same girl looking at me. Seven weeks, I walked the other way.” He tensed a moment, then shook his head. “It’s no wonder she screamed.”
“That’s different,” Devon countered sharply. He was willing to shelve a lot of his personal opinions and let his friend talk things out, but on this particular point he drew a line. “She didn’t know what was happening, Julian. She had no idea why you were really there. If you’d ask her now, I’m sure she would say something very different—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Julian interrupted quietly. “Let her scream, if that helps. The point is, I’ll never forget the way she looked at me. The way they all looked at me. And I’ll never forget all those different futures, when I let things happen to them. When I decided not to help.”
He drew in a tight breath, still hearing those desperate cries.
“I can’t keep filling my head with these kinds of memories. I need to be a husband who can laugh, a father who can smile. If I don’t stop now, there won’t be room for anything good.”
There was a suspended moment as the two of them considered the significance of what was about to happen. There was another moment after that when they finally locked eyes.
Then Devon abruptly nodded. “Okay.”
Julian blinked, sure he’d misheard. “Okay?”
He nodded again, flashing an easy smile. “Yeah, okay.”
...seriously?
The psychic had been preparing to fight it out—quite possibly literally. He’d been preparing to spend days or even weeks locked in a vicious argument, going round after round. But his friend merely snapped his fingers for the dogs, cocking his head back towards the trail.
“Come on, let’s keep walking.”
In a kind of daze, Julian fell into step beside him—wondering if he was going to be beaten with sticks as punishment, resisting the urge to check the future and see for himself.
“You mentioned Tom at the club...do you ever hear from him?”
