Chapter 59

On the other side of the mansion, Isabelle was down on the floor, doing yoga stretches to try to clear her mind and relax her muscles. She was edgy about being so caught up in the plots of the Darkness, even though she had agreed to stay with them. It wouldn"t take their counterpart, the Illumination, long to get involved either. All of her instincts told her to run, that this wasn"t her fight.

If they go to war, it"s going to be everyone"s fight.

"Even you can"t run forever," Isabelle murmured, her fingers flicking over her rosary beads.

As soon as they had retrieved Anya and Trajan, Isabelle had emailed a contact in New Orleans to see if she had any information on the Nehemoth.

If anyone could find anything about them, it was Harley and her friend Fox. Isabelle had been checking her email every hour and still had heard nothing. She had never encountered one before and didn"t know how to ward the house against it.

Isabelle glanced through the thick curtains, worried that the Darkness would try to engage in a full assault on the mansion to get Anya back and the firebird too. A golden flicker in the garden caught her eye as a dingo prowled through the plants. Hamish was out patrolling the borders and alone for once. She had to talk to him and get their frustrations out without an audience. Maybe then she would be able to get some sleep.

Isabelle grabbed one of her guns, hurried out of the room, and through the back kitchen door. The smell of ice and diesel fumes hung heavily in the night air. Hamish was moving steadily along the fence line and coming towards her, and she fought the urge to run again. He was the one person that seemed to rob her of all her courage.

Hamish sat down in front of her, a droopy, doggy smile on his face. She crouched down beside him and fought the urge to pat him.

"Can we talk?" she asked.

In response, Hamish walked over to her, lifted his leg, peed, and trotted off. Isabelle stared at the wet staining the front of her chest and pants. She stood, biting back a scream and turning slowly back towards the house. Hamish was clearly not ready to talk just yet. She felt stupid for even wanting to try.

Cursing and muttering, Isabelle stood on the back step and peeled off her soiled clothes. Mr. Hudson, you just declared war. She promised retribution as she bent down to pick up her ruined pajamas.

"You"ve put on some weight since I last saw you from this angle." Hamish was buttoning a pair of jeans, his head tilted to one side as he inspected her. Isabelle bundled her clothes and threw them at him. They hit him in the chest with a satisfying splat.

"Go screw yourself, Hamish," she said bitterly.

His eyes still looked a little feral after the change, and her trigger finger twitched. She took a step backward and opened the door to the kitchen.

"Isabelle—" He had that soft, confused tone, which was so rare for him. She wasn"t going to let that work on her. He hadn"t even attempted to talk to her since the night Anya was taken.

Isabelle whipped around angrily. "What? You want to make another jibe about my weight like a fucking asshole?"

Hamish hesitated a moment before asking, "Do people still say jibe?"

"If that"s all you have to say to me after all these years, you"re a bigger idiot than I thought." His expression darkened as he advanced on her.

"I wasn"t the one who pissed off in the middle of the night. You left me, Belle, remember? I tried hunting you down, and when I finally did, it was after the whole place had been blown to bits," he growled.

"I left to protect you, moron. I had enemies closing in on me. Do you think I could sit back and watch them murder you to get back at me?"

"I didn"t need protecting," Hamish said stubbornly. "Even if you would have said goodbye and ended it properly, it would have been different. You weren"t some random chick I picked up at the pub, and you know it, so don"t pretend otherwise."

Isabelle folded her arms of her chest. Vulnerable, pissed off, and half-naked wasn"t the way she wanted to have this conversation. "By the time the heat was off me, too much time had passed. I wouldn"t risk it again. It"s not that I didn"t want to find you, but a lot changed, and I didn"t need the reputation of being a hunter who had sex with her targets instead of killing them."

"Don"t bullshit me, Belle. You"ve never given a crap what other hunters thought of you, so what changed?"

Isabelle pulled her long hair down over her neck to hide the scar. She wasn"t about to tell anyone about that. God had a cruel sense of humor to let their paths cross again. Hamish offered her his clean white T-shirt.

"Thank you," she mumbled and slipped it over her head. "I"m going back to bed. I"ll tell you some other night when I"m up to it. Tonight, I"m not, and you are just going to have to accept that. For what it"s worth, I thought I was doing the right thing when I left you." She turned and began to walk away from him.

"Hey, Belle." She glanced over her shoulder at him. He was looking nervous as he stammered, "About the weight comment. I"m sorry, I was an asshole. It looks good on you. You"ve always been too fucking gorgeous for your own good."

"Thanks for clarifying. I"ll sleep better tonight," she said sarcastically. "Dick."

"Don"t use that tone. I was trying to apologize," he said as he walked up behind her. "I would like us to be civil to each other, even if it"s just for Trajan"s sake."

They had started moving up the stairs, and Hamish"s hand brushed hers where it rested on the banister. She pulled her hand away quickly, the feel of his skin hot on hers.

"Yeah, whatever. Goodnight, Belle." Hamish pushed past her, leaving her standing there, cursing the day she had walked through Trajan"s door.

The next morning,Isabelle woke to her notification alerts going off on her laptop. She opened a tired, gritty eye and groaned. She had made a promise to train Anya some basic hand to hand combat while the others made final decisions on where they should go in the world next.

The incident with Hamish the night before rushed back to her, and she buried her head under the pillows. She wasn"t ready to deal with the world again.

Within ten minutes, Isabelle"s phone roared with Harley"s ring tone of motorbike engines revving loudly. With a sigh, she crawled out of bed and opened her message.

Read ur email. It"s IMPORTANT. Luv H.

Isabelle looked down at Hamish"s T-shirt. She had been so upset the night before, she had washed the pee off her leg and climbed into bed. His scent left on his shirt was now assaulting her.

The nightmare continues. She pulled it off and dropped it onto the carpet.

Isabelle couldn"t help but smile when she opened up Harley"s email. It was splashed with her motorcycle shop"s logo, and the colors were bright enough to make her eyes ache. Legba"s Ladies was a dominantly women-run motorcycle fabricator workshop in New Orleans, and the three men who worked there considered themselves the luckiest men in the world.

Harley had been born to two motorcycle mechanics in New Orleans. The story went that her father had to deliver her on the shop's floor on his favorite Harley Davidson leather jacket. She had been christened Harley that night, and now she had taken over their business, earning her a reputation as one of the best.

Harley had made Isabelle her custom motorcycle that was down in Trajan"s garage. It had all sorts of interesting features hidden from the naked eye, like a place for spare knives and silver blades that shot out of the sides of her wheels. Harley had got that idea after watching the chariots in the movie Gladiator.

Holy symbols had been stamped into different parts of the frame, and Fox had airbrushed a fierce, blonde Valkyrie on the fuel tank. Fox wasn"t only a talented artist, but the best hacker Isabelle had ever seen.

Between them, Harley and Fox were the best researchers Isabelle knew, and they had never let her down yet. Isabelle scrolled down the page of her email with a sigh, reading all the research they found on the Nehemoth as well as an offer for Harley to fly over if they needed her. Harley was like a little sister and was one of the few women Isabelle actually liked. This was big trouble, and there was no way in seven hells Isabelle was going to get Harley in the Darkness"s line of fire.

A soft knock at the door snapped her out of her inner argument.

"Just a minute," she called as she found a dressing gown and wrapped it around her. She picked up Hamish"s shirt and stuffed it under a blanket.

Trajan was waiting patiently outside of her door as she opened it. "Sorry to interrupt, Isabelle, but have you seen Hamish at all?"

Isabelle"s hand on the door handle tightened as unexpected fear curled in her chest. "He"s not in the mansion?"

"No. I can"t find him anywhere," he replied, shaking his head.

"We had a fight in the garden last night. I went to bed and figured he did the same," Isabelle admitted. "Do you think someone has snatched him?"

"I don"t believe so, but I don"t know what would"ve gotten to him enough to want to leave the safety of the mansion." Isabelle knew precisely what had gotten to him. Her. Goddamn it.

"Stop worrying, Trajan. I think I know where he"ll be. I"ll go get him," she said calmly inwardly cursing.

"Thank you, Isabelle. Help yourself to any of the cars downstairs. The sooner he"s back, the better. I don"t want him causing a bar fight somewhere and drawing attention to himself."

Isabelle smiled but didn"t reassure him because a bar was exactly where Hamish was going to be.

Hamish saton a stool in the newly refurbished Dirty Rose Bar. It was the first place he had met Isabelle fifty years ago, and he had secretly hoped it would have been burned to the ground. He had been a soldier, and she had been masquerading as a stunning bar singer that happened to say yes when he offered to buy her a drink.

"Another?" the bartender asked uncertainly.

"Yes, no ice." The boy nodded and didn"t say a thing. He was probably wondering how Hamish was still alive after all the alcohol he had consumed. Hamish loved a 24-hour bar and was making the most of it. He had been drinking steadily for nearly twelve hours and had no intention of stopping.

Hamish really couldn"t understand why Isabelle was so angry at him. Surely he was the one entitled to be angry. All the years he had thought her dead. He had never felt any connection like that with any other woman. He had looked for it, and nothing had ever come close.

The bell chimed on the bar door, and there she was. A drunken man"s dream made real. In his hallucination, she was dressed in tight black jeans, a lacy cream top, and a black leather jacket. Her long hair fell in waves over her shoulders, and she still had those perfect, kissable red lips.

The bartender broke his concentration as he placed the rum in front of him. Hamish drank it straight down to clear the illusion away. He couldn"t even get drunk without her ghost haunting him.

"Hamish," her warm voice washed over him. Maybe he should stop drinking. Seeing and hearing things are usually a sign to sober up. Nah.

Isabelle sat down beside him. "I thought I would find you here. Trajan is worried about you. Martini, thank you."

The bartender nodded and hurried to mix it for her.

"I can"t believe the old place still stands," she murmured.

Oh, great. She really was there talking to him. "Trajan is too wrapped up in the Russian witch to notice if I go out for a drink."

"Maybe if you hadn"t been missing for nearly twelve hours, it would have been less obvious." Isabelle took her drink from the bartender, who blushed when she smiled at him. "This is weird, isn"t it?"

"I don"t know how I ended up here last night. I feel like I"m in the twilight zone except you aren"t singing."

She reddened at that, maybe surprised he had remembered. The first night they had met, she had climbed up on a table and sang for a bar full of people. Later on, he had found out that she was a hunter. He foolishly confronted her about it, thinking she had been sent to kill him, and she had shot him in the ass for his audacity. She had no idea he was an immortal shifter. She had wanted to drink with him because she had actually liked him. It had been a hell of a first date.

"Do you still sing?"

"Only in the shower."

"I"ll have to catch your show sometime."

Isabelle laughed loudly, nearly choking on her drink. That really surprised him. She had a great, big, filthy laugh, and it reminded him of the days when they didn"t hate each other.

"I assure you the sight isn"t what it used to be." Isabelle finished her martini and ordered another one.

"I saw a bit last night, and it looked just fine to me." Hamish waved his glass at the barman, and he refilled it.

"You still look exactly the same. Are you still finding wars and saving the day?" she asked, referring to his old past time.

"I"m back home on a cattle station again. You get tired of killing men. It"s too easy and disheartening anyway. Supernaturals present much more of a challenge these days."

"Very true. I think that"s why I"m staying around. Trouble flocks to that witch, and it"s going to be a killer of a fight when it comes to ahead."

"We might even get the chance to die in this one if it"s big enough."

"Just for something different." They both burst out laughing at that. The bartender was looking at both of them with a perplexed expression, which made them laugh more.

"Make me another, please." Isabelle had a glow in her cheeks, the first sign of her getting tipsy. It made Hamish smile that she still couldn"t hold her liquor. "We really should get back to the mansion after this round. Trajan is fretting like a mother hen."

"I have a better idea, Isabelle. How about we stay here and you can keep on drinking. You"re less hostile with vodka in your system." Hamish gave her a sideways grin over his glass.

"I"m serious. They will send out a search party for us soon."

"You"ll protect me from any bad guys."

"What can I do to convince that drunken brain of yours to come with me easily?"

Hamish rubbed his chin dramatically. Finally, he got to his surprisingly steady feet and offered her his hand. "Dance with me."

Isabelle frowned at him, but despite her annoyance, there was mischief in her eyes. "Fine. One dance, then we are leaving."

The music in the bar hadn"t changed much. It was still that sweet, nostalgic French jazz. Isabelle took his hand and placed a hand on his high shoulder. Hamish swallowed and rested his hand on the small of her back. They were both like nervous teenagers on a first date.

"This seems familiar," Isabelle commented as they moved to the music.

"Why didn"t you come back all those years ago? I know you are different now. You have always been an amazing hunter, but you were human then. You aren"t now. You haven"t aged a day since I saw you," he said softly.

"The short story? A demon I was hunting got the better of me and bit me. I"m still mostly human. I can just do things a little differently now. It happened not long after I left you, and I was so disgusted and frightened by what was happening due to the demon stigmata, I couldn"t face you like I was. It has taken me a long time to accept it. I really did think I was protecting you." They moved slowly to the music, oblivious that the next song had started.

"I was crazy about you, kiddo," Hamish said.

"I"m sorry I hurt you. My enemies were closing in, and I couldn"t let anything happen to you. You deserved better than that. I didn"t think they would put bombs in my apartment, and the thought that you could get hurt or killed because they wanted me dead that badly made me walk away."

They lapsed into a long silence again. Her body moving against his was driving him crazy but not enough to stop.

"Please say something," she whispered.

Hamish hadn"t realized his silence was hurting her. "It"s okay, Belle. I don"t hate you even if I"m still hurt over it. When you want to tell me more about the demon bite, I want to hear it."

Isabelle gave him a soft smile, but he could see an old pain in her eyes. Whatever had happened must have been so much worse than what she let on.

"I don"t want to be mad at you, and I don"t want us fighting each other anymore," he added. "What we had was rare, and we should remember that."

"I do, but we really should go back now," Isabelle said as she stepped out of his arms. Hamish fought the urge to grab her and kiss her. "There"s more alcohol at the mansion if you want to keep drinking."

"Okay, Mom. I"ll behave and come quietly."

As Hamish was fixing up his massive tab, the barman whispered conspiratorially, "Now I see why you were drinking so hard." Hamish gave him a large tip.

"So whose car did you steal?" Hamish stepped out of the bar and onto the bright street.

"Whoever owns the silver Aston Martin." Isabelle flashed him a mischievous grin before opening the driver"s side door.

"Trajan might try to kill you for taking it," Hamish warned as he got into the passenger seat.

"He told me to go find you, and I couldn"t put you on the back of my bike. You are too big." Isabelle put her foot on the gas, and they squealed all the way down the road.

"Do you always drive like this?" Hamish asked, his stomach-churning.

"Yes. I"m an immortal now, so it really isn"t enough to kill me if we crash."

"It would hurt like bloody hell though."

"I know it does. I tested it more than once," Isabelle said.

Hamish didn"t reply. He had been in that headspace when he was first cursed as a shifter. She had been going through her own transformation alone, just like he had, and he wished that he could"ve been there for her.

When they finally pulled into the driveway, Hamish was almost sick on the shiny dashboard. He stepped out of the car on wobbly legs and would have fallen if Isabelle hadn"t caught him by the arm.

"Jesus, you"re a heavy bastard," she complained as she tried to get balanced on her heels. She slipped on the concrete floor, and they ended up in a heap on the ground.

"And you think I"m heavy," Hamish said as they tried to untangle themselves. She looked so beautiful sprawled on the concrete that before he could stop himself, he leaned over and kissed her. He gently brushed the side of her face with the pads of his fingers, marveling at the softness of her skin. When he pulled back, she had a soft, surprised look in her eye.

"Looks like we still got it, old girl," Hamish whispered.