Page 24 of Ace
“A gris-gris is just a prayer in a bag,” she told him honestly. “It’s a collection of natural items that resonate specific energies. Certain vibes, I guess you could call them. Gran Mere taught me to match those energies to the needs of the individual. Even the color of the bag means something.”
Keller nodded without taking his eyes off the road. “I get it, red’s for love, so in a way, you did make a love potion for him.”
“Yes, but not romantic love. Isaiah’s problems were not about falling in love. He’s already there. His problem was his heart. It was being torn apart by things he’d been told as a child, things he’d long ago accepted as fact. Like his being responsible for everyone else inthe world.” Savannah cleared her throat. “What happened to make him that way? Do you know?”
“His last name’s Zaroyin,” Keller replied as if that explained everything.
Savannah ducked her head into her shoulders. “So? My last name’s Church. Doesn’t mean I hear confessions or say Mass.”
“As in he’s Abraham Zaroyin’s kid.”
She resisted the urge to scratch her head at yet another non-answer to a simple question. “Is that supposed to mean something?”
Keller glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “You really don’t know, do you?”
“No, but I wish you’d stop beating around the bush and just tell me.” Savannah gave him her sweetest smile. But then she wished she hadn’t.
“Isaiah’s mother was murdered one night when his father wasn’t home,” Keller said evenly, “which I imagine was most of the time back then. Doc Zaroyin was a brilliant scientist, but he got mixed up with the wrong people. He might’ve told Isaiah to take care of his mom, that he was the man of the house, before he’d taken off for the night. Which made Isaiah responsible for what happened. But he wasn’t. That sin’s on Abe Zaroyin’s head. Doc’s responsible for her death, for what that death did to his traumatized teenaged son. The son of a bitch is responsible for everything that happened to Isaiah after he lost his mom. For the deaths of hundreds of FBI agents a few years back, too.”
Keller drew in a deep breath after that long rant. “His old man’s in prison now, which is hard enough onIsaiah. I honestly think he still loves the bastard, but his mom was the only real parent in his life. I know she loved him. He has no other relatives. He was an only child—”
“An exceptional only child...” Savannah breathed.
“Yes, and when she died, this team, this mixed-up—”
“Deuce’s Wild Team…”
“…became Isaiah’s only family…”
“And Mr. Chase is…?”
“The biggest ass in the world.”
“But you respect him as much as you care about Isaiah.”
Keller’s mouth snapped shut at what Savannah knew was a truth he wasn’t ready to admit. She’d strayed too far into personal territory again, but she was right. “You said you knew Isaiah’s mother loved him? Did you know her?”
“No.”
“Well then, how do you—?”
That earned her another snort. A grunt. Then a terse, “Because I feel Isaiah’s loss every Mother’s Day. Every Christmas and every time the sun sets, that’s why.”
Savannah sat back in her seat at all the suffering this man kept to himself because of his unique but torturous gift. Even now, Keller carried the pain for all his friend had lost. He was another one who needed to learn how to let it go. But now was not the time for that lesson.
“Is that why you came all this way to speak with Gran Mere?” she asked quietly. “To save your friend?”
“Yes,” Keller answered, his voice gone flat. “He couldn’t shut his mind off. He said it was powering him instead of him powering it. And he was dying. Somehow, Tucker knew about your great grandmother, that she had the same problem as Isaiah, but could control it.”
Savannah pursed her lips, considering that perspective. She’d never considered that an outside force from the universe might have powered her sweet Gran Mere all these years, but it made sense. The universe did echo back all that a person projected into it. Good did return for good. Evil for evil. But to get back more energy? She’d never thought of that.
“Isaiah’s problem was not his gift. Rather, it was his guilt for thinking he wasn’t good enough to save everyone,” she explained gently.
“See? How do you even know that?” Keller asked, his temper rising. “I get that you’re an empath, but why couldn’t I help Isaiah? If you could reach into his psyche to help him, why couldn’t I? Shit, I’ve worked alongside the guy for months.”
Savannah reached out, projecting quiet energy to the suddenly tense male bicep that felt hard as a rock beside her. Keller wanted to hit something. He was frustrated with his perceived failure, yet he also felt a genuine kinship with Isaiah. He felt closed off and alone, yet he belonged to an amazing team of federal agents. And he was warm. His arm throbbed with energy and remorse for never being good enough.
“Because you also carry remorse for sins you didn’t commit.” She cleared her throat as the first jackhammerof denial rolled from Keller to her hand and up her arm. Man, this guy’s negativity packed a punch. “It’s okay,” she soothed. “It’s a skill learned from childhood. I can help you with that, but first you need to understand that you’re already good enough, Keller. Youdohelp people, and you’re constantly looking for ways to help others. I sensed it in the way you talked to Gran Mere. It’s part of who you are. You just don’t give yourself credit for it.”
