Page 72 of Rekindled Prophecy

Eyes scrunched closed, she reached out a leaden arm and smacked around the nightstand for the phone. Somehow, it remained elusive. The damn song finally stopped, but it had already ripped the veil of sleepaway.

Memories blocked during sleep reared their ugly heads as soon as Greylyn opened her eyes. Kissing Kael. His heat penetrating every fiber of her being. The shocking way she responded to him. Then running away like a frightened squirrel.

Oh, and something about a prophecy.

As if the memories were not enough, she grunted when she saw the image reflected in the mirror. Bad hair. Her mop of raven strands was teased up like a frazzled beehive.

Another shower. This time scalding hot, with a glop of jasmine-scented conditioner. To block all thoughts, she turned the volume up on her phone so nothing but AC/DC infiltrated her mind during her shower. Greylyn emerged with pink skin and silky-smooth hair.

She wrapped herself in a plush cotton towel before snatching the phone from the vanity counter. Caller ID showed two missed calls from Jasper and one from Thomas.

Oh yeah, that was what woke her up in the first place.

Jasper wanted to know one thing. “Have you taken care of Kael yet?” His second message was more relaxed. “All is fine here with Sofia. No signs of trouble. You missed a lovely breakfast. However, I’m off to Kansas. Some rodeo clown needs saving.”

He always gets the fun assignments!

He ended the message with, “Hope you dispatched that damn dark guardian this time.”

Yeah, not so much, Jasper.

Thomas wanted to check in and make sure she survived the night. He sounded rather frantic. “Darling, you still alive? Call me. Jasper won’t tell me anything.”

Splashing some cold water on her face, she then stared at her own sad reflection evidenced by dark circles under her eyes.

I haven’t looked this bad since Nebraska 1988.

She shrugged. No use in fretting over her appearance. Throwing on a pair of faded Levi jeans and an equally faded West Point gray tee-shirt, Greylyn paused at the door to her suite. Her heart pounded against her ribcage and a bead of sweat broke out on her forehead.

Courage, Grey. You can do this. You can face down Kael again.

The back door creaked loudly as she entered the main house. Maureen’s alto voice floated down the hall from the kitchen, humming an old Frank Sinatra tune. Poking her head into the kitchen, she eyed the petite woman at the sink up to her elbows in suds.

“Well, good morning, sleepyhead! We were getting worried about you. You must have had quite the adventurous evening.” She winked. “Tried to call you earlier, but there was no answer inyour room.” Another wink.

“Sorry, Maureen. You know how much I adore your food. Any chance there’s anything left over? I’m starving!”

Great, she probably thinks I was in Kael’s room all night. Again. One last time.

“Why, certainly. Grab yourself some coffee in the dining room and I’ll whip up something fresh for you.”

With her heart pounding like a bongo drum, Greylyn cautiously moved into the dining room. After last night’s encounter, she knew to the depths of her soul that she was not prepared to face Kael again … not yet. No amount of sleep would bolster her courage enough to undo the damage from last night’s weakness.

Taking a tentative step around the corner, she breathed a sigh of relief. The room was empty. Why, then, did she feel disappointed?

A tall mug of silky black coffee with a splash of vanilla cream beckoned her. Walking out to the covered front porch, realization hit. Despite the glorious beauty of the Gaelic Haven landscape and her wish to stay, she would have to leave. She had promised Maureen that she would stay a day or two more. But not with Kael around. She needed space away from him. Lots and lots of space. Preferably a continent or two.

Who are you fooling, girl? Certainly, not yourself. A shuttle ride to the moon is not going to help.

Kael was owed an explanation about the events of last night. He had stepped up to watch over Kelly and Matthew for her. Or was he doing it strictly for Olivier? Had their truce been real or just a trick?

At least, she should relay the parts related to saving Sofia and her friends. She would like to confirm if he were working with the fallen archangel, Olivier, or Satan himself.

A sudden murmuring in the back of her brain alerted her to someone else needing her help. Greylyn could not afford to delay if the intensity of the buzz was any indication.

Besides, since when did she share information with a dark guardian? That was ridiculous, right? There was no way she trusted Kael with the knowledge of some prophecy. If he did not already know from Olivier himself, then he did not need to know. If he did know …

I just can’t. I cannot face him again.

---