Page 23 of Unshakable

Chapter Eight

Henri slept soundly, waking only when Toula stirred beside him. Her auburn hair lay loose against her shoulders, and she didn’t yet open her eyes as she stretched.

He hadn’t slept in several days, had been overdue to recharge.

Mission accomplished. Never one to lie still, he slid from under the covers and pulled on his jeans. How does a Grigori put on his pants? One leg at a time.

He smiled at the joke he used to tell Sam, then felt Toula’s gaze upon his back. Turning his smile to her, he watched as her eyes tried to read the language he’d tattooed on his skin long ago.

“This is our language, a prayerful language.”

“I know.” Her soft answer jolted him.

How could she know such a thing? Only one answer. “Michael?”

She nodded. “I need to tell you. He gave me something once, something I put away and used when I needed it.”

She had his full attention. Grigori usually acquired wealth and power. Despite this, he had limited knowledge about what their larger, illustrious heritage might hold. “What did he give you?”

“Words.” She sat up, wrapping the blanket tastefully across herself, somehow making herself a million times sexier. “He said they were a prayer, and I should use them if I needed protection for myself. Or someone else.”

A shiver sifted across his skin. He knew nothing about protective prayers, spells, or anything else. Then he recalled her first question to him.

Did I summon you?

Had she? Michael told her about this prayer and had told him nothing? They needed a reckoning.

His next question reverberated around the room. “Did you use this prayer? These words?”

He could not understate the importance of using their language. While they were bound to respond, this kind of conversation was not necessarily good. Definitely not typical. Contact like this opened doors that could not be closed.

“Yes.” Her downcast gaze told him this was the last of her secrets. “When Chloe was born. I knew right away she would develop empathy more powerful than mine. I don’t know if I really believed Michael when he told me about the prayer, yet I took the chance when she was an infant. I followed his instructions, said the words, and...”

His mind screamed for more as she trailed off. She dabbled in things better left alone. “What happened? You must tell me.”

“I’ve never told anyone,” she admitted with a shake of her head, her eyes wide. “I don’t know how to describe what appeared, a throne of some sort, where a menagerie of Grigori exists in service to mankind. They appeared out of thin air, perfectly formed and speaking every language. I remember a riot of color and light, so bright I couldn’t look for too long at one time.”

She paused, making eye contact, and Henri kept his questions at bay, not daring to interrupt.

“They asked in whose name I called them, and I gave them Michael’s name, which they seemed to recognize, and they asked my request.”

“To protect Chloe.”

She paused and took a few shallow breaths. “Specifically, to send a protector for her.”

Interesting wrinkle, one that could, unfortunately, invite more contact between this world and the spiritual realm. “And?”

“They conferred and told me my petition would be granted. Then the illusion disappeared, and Beatrix came screaming out of the house, enraged I’d taken her child without her knowledge, even though, even then, she had little feeling for her baby.”

A tear slid first from one eye, then the other, and he reached out to wipe them away for her. “Are you sorry you used the prayer he gave you?”

“No.” She shook her head and took both his hands. “Although I don’t know how to interpret their answer. Are you the protection I prayed for? Have I missed the protection somehow? How will I know?”

The question hit him right between the eyes. Could he possibly be the answer to her prayer? Had he overheard the conversation in the deli for a reason? What did protecting them truly mean, in his world?

“I don’t know,” he admitted with a deep sigh. “Contact like this is unusual but growing every day, these New Age rituals invoke things whether they intend to or not. Contact is dangerous. Yet, what’s done is done, and you saw what you saw. I don’t doubt your word.”

“I wanted you to know everything, to find out if what I saw was real, if what they told me can be trusted. I’ll do all I can to protect Chloe, to protect all the girls. Knowing the truth behind this one thing would help me sleep at night.”

“Then, at some point, you told Michael about your empathy, didn’t you?”

His question silenced her for a long moment. “When I started to understand his purpose for me, I told him, hoping he would realize I could tell his motivation and stop pressuring me to have his child. When he left for good, he said the prayer was the last favor he’d ever do for me.”

“Then you know I have to start with him.”

She nodded, hesitancy filling her request. “I don’t want him involved in my life again, yet I have to know if this is true, even if I never see the proof in my lifetime.”

Henri nodded, a new layer stripped from the onion. Michael must have felt something for her, once upon a time, to give her such a huge gift.

Her soft fingertips trailed over the words etched into his skin, then spoke them into reality. “Samjaza-Azael. The sign of thy name. I remember most of the prayer, and I remember the beings I saw and how they stopped and saw me, too. How we spoke together. I can’t pretend to understand how my request will be interpreted and put into action.”

“If I contact Michael,” Henri said, “I can’t promise he’ll stay away from you. Are you prepared for him to knock on your door one day?”

Henri didn’t say so, but Michael would not be as kind to her as he had been. He would want to meet the grandchildren, become more involved and controlling, as was his way.

If there were anything of value to be taken from her.

“I have be ready for many eventualities. At the end of the day, him showing up unannounced is still better than Tourelle coming to take Chloe away while she can’t put up a fight.”

Henri nodded, the contrast clear. “All right. I’ll contact him and let you know what he says. I’ll warn you, he doesn’t always make sense. Come, get up, I’ll make you something for breakfast.”

They ended their conversation and eased into the day together, no longer pretending to be normal, not after spending the night together. Not after discussing the prayer. His feelings for her included a healthy respect for her gift, and the space she needed to buffer her family.

As they parted for the day, her to pick up the girls, and him to make an important phone call, he felt serious decisions weighing on his shoulders, and he hoped she wouldn’t fight him once he’d made them.

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