Part 22 (1/2)
W ind whipped her hair as she clung to Damian on the back of the Harley. Fields gave way to a dense canopy of hardwoods, cypress and live oak. Beside the one-lane road ran a winding ribbon of murky water. The smell of fresh water teased her senses. She buried her head against Damian's broad back.
With his art expertise in antiques, Alexandre was combing over the painting, but still hadn't found the next clue. Damian's frustration was apparent, but today he'd set it aside for the family gathering.
Finally they turned onto a dirt road. They rode for about two miles until reaching the end. A clearing about seven acres wide and long, peppered with trees, opened before them. On one side was the bayou. In the middle of the clearing was a charming two-story gray house with white shutters and a wide porch.
Damian brought the bike to a stop before the house and parked amid a cl.u.s.ter of cars and motorcycles. Jamie dismounted and pulled off the helmet. She smoothed down her wool pants, straightened the collar of her red cashmere sweater. The familiar barricades against families went up. No more emotional pain. She couldn't risk it. Another disappointment, more abandonment, or worse. She had tried to kill Damian by infecting him with the lethal virus. For that crime, Damian's adopted family might turn on her as her own family had. Only, his family had fangs and claws and were dangerous.
”Hey,” he said softly. ”You have nothing to worry about.”
Anxiety clenched her stomach. Would they gawk, whisper? Shun her?
Herding her up the steps, he seemed carefree. Panic raced in her veins at the sound of a large group inside. Damian opened the screen door and whistled. ”She's here!”
Conversation ground to a halt. A blush heated her face. Wonderful, here she went again, a real showstopper, maybe they wouldn't stare...
They entered a large dining room. Around a simple oak table were at least sixty people. Jamie gulped. And then they parted, and she saw what was on the table.
The cake was almost the size of a small desk. In childish letters was scrawled Happy Birthday Jamie. The group broke out into a loud chorus of ”Happy Birthday, Jamie.”
A surprise party for her. A big cake with lots of people wis.h.i.+ng her well, and they were grinning at her. A lump rose in her throat.
Something tugged at her pant leg. She glanced down to see cherubic Ana, her blond hair done in pigtails.
”I helped with the icing,” she chirped. ”You said you liked pink, so we got you pink.”
Twenty-one candles burned. Her vision blurred. This was what family should be, what she'd longed for always, the generous, all-encompa.s.sing warmth that sheltered you like a blanket, forgave you for stupid things you did and just accepted you for what you were. She swallowed back the tears and smiled.
Jamie scooped Ana into her arms. ”I need help blowing all these out. That or a fire extinguisher.”
”No,” someone said in a thick accent. ”That'd be Paw Paw. Nearly two thousand candles and we'd make the bayou dry.”
Everyone laughed and then she and Ana blew the candles out. Damian introduced her in a blur of names and faces. His adopted parents, Remy and Celine, had dark eyes and dark hair. They enveloped her in a hug.
”Paw Paw's out back. I'll introduce you in a minute. Said his bones are too tired to stand for long. But first, I want you to meet Indigo. He doesn't live with the family, but we consider him our brother. He's half vampire, half Draicon.” Damian drew her over toward a man towering over the crowd.
Jamie stared in awe at the colossal giant with black curls parted down the middle, spilling down his back. Six feet seven inches tall, body built like a tank, shoulders wide as a doorway. A close-cropped black beard darkened his face. His skin was coffee with a generous dose of cream, his origin, maybe Native American mixed with Polynesian.
His hand swallowed hers as he shook it very quickly, then dropped it. Indigo quietly wished her a happy birthday and walked away. The floor shook beneath his footsteps.
There were presents, lots of them. Little, thoughtful gifts like flash drives for her laptop, a handwoven silk scarf from Damian's adopted parents and a gold watch from his brothers. A new laptop from Damian, state-of-the-art. A sheepish grin touched his mouth.
”It's all I could do, after breaking yours,” he told her.
Then the women cut the cake, setting large slices on paper plates. Her emotions teetered wildly as she clutched Damian's arm. ”You threw this party just for me.”
Tenderness shone in his gaze as he rubbed his thumb over her wobbly lower lip. ”It's about time someone celebrated your life.” He kissed the corner of her mouth.
They ate the cake and went outside. Insects hummed in the nearby trees. Brilliant suns.h.i.+ne chased away November's chill. In a rocking chair on the back porch sat an elderly icon. In overalls and a simple plaid s.h.i.+rt, he had white hair, a craggy face that resembled a well-worn road map. Wisdom and life shone in his watery blue eyes.
Reverence tinged Damian's voice as he introduced her. The man smelled like spices and pine forest. He sat up, beckoning for her hand. He took her palm gently, turned it over. Rheumy blue eyes widened. A muttering of rapid Cajun followed.
”That doesn't sound good.” Jamie glanced at Damian.
Paw Paw squeezed her hand, his grip surprisingly strong. ”You are a Maihaigh. In our old language, one who brings healing strength to our people. Your kind is extremely rare, with magick once all Draicon possessed.”
Healing strength? When she'd tried to kill Damian? Jamie shook her head. ”Maggie, in Damian's pack, is the one who heals. I...destroy,” she whispered.
”Your strength will help bring us together as one and your powers will restore what was lost to our people. It's inside you, this power, but first, you must forgive yourself.”
More tears blurred her vision. She scrubbed them away as she listened to him list her newfound powers. Telepathy. Traveling through s.p.a.ce and reappearing in another place. Levitation. Magick she'd craved all her life, yet the possibilities scared her.
”What if I can't control it? I don't want to hurt anyone.”
”Damian will teach you. This is why he's your dracairon. He has learned his whole life to control his magick. You've been adrift your whole life and now you've found your direction.”
Hope soared inside her. This was meant to be. Damian, someone who cared despite all her shortcomings, and knew exactly what she needed to survive. But did he love her? And could she dare to risk loving him, becoming absorbed into his world and all that went with it?
Damian pulled her upward, gathered her into his arms. ”He's right. I'll be your direction, for now and always,” he said softly.
For always. For as long as she lived, what time she had left. Jamie rested her head on his shoulder. No, she wouldn't think of that. Not today. Today was her birthday celebration.
A few of the pack formed an impromptu band on the porch with a fiddle, guitar and an accordion. After some coaxing, Gabriel joined them on the fiddle, singing in Cajun French.
The dancing started. Damian held her in a light grip as they did a two-step. Soon after, everyone took a break. When Jamie saw the females drift toward the kitchen and the males amble away, she put an immediate halt to it. She organized both genders into an efficient clean-up crew, making sure the males did their part. Then as she helped finish, Damian's brothers, even Indigo, started a game of football, laughing and jostling each other.
Jamie set down the plate she was drying, peered through the kitchen window. Damian held himself apart, looking with longing at the others roughhousing.
A gentle hand on her shoulder drew her attention away. Celine followed her gaze.
”Have I told you how happy we are that Damian found you? You make him feel young again. My son, he is young in age, but his spirit is ancient and weary.”
”But I'm not Draicon. How can you just accept me without really knowing who I am?” The confession fled her lips and Jamie wished she could capture the words and stuff them back into her mouth.
Celine gave her an understanding smile. ”It doesn't matter who you are, Jamie. We accept you for everything you are and aren't because you are Damian's mate. That's what family is about. You needn't worry about conforming or pleasing us. I can see how Damian looks at you and how the light returns to his eyes when he does. He needs you and that is enough.”
No one had ever needed her before. ”Go to him, Jamie,” Celine told her. ”Do what your heart tells you is true. He has been walking in darkness for too long. Be his light.”
His light. His hope. After seeing the darkness tormenting him over his family's death, she understood. Jamie plucked at her pretty sweater. ”Do you have any spare clothing? Something good for playing football?”
Minutes later, she emerged on the porch. Dressed in a sweats.h.i.+rt two sizes too big, baggy sweatpants and sneakers stuffed with paper to make them fit, she headed for Damian.
He leaned against a st.u.r.dy oak. The familiar searching, wary look was back. Reluctant to relax, always on guard.
When the game broke up, the players clapped each other on the shoulder and sat on the gra.s.s, drinking tall gla.s.ses of lemonade. The abandoned football lay within reach. Jamie scooped it up, handed it to Damian.
”Here. Let me see how fast you can run, wolf. Throw it.”
He stared at the pigskin as if she'd handed him a snake. She backed up, held out her hands. He tossed her a wimpy pa.s.s a day-old infant could catch.