Chapter 4
Manea—better known as the Etruscan Goddess of the Dead, the Greek goddess of insanity and madness, the Roman goddess of spirits and chaos, and the mother of ghosts, the undead, and disruptive spirits that permeate the night, perpetuating horror stories from the beginning of time—was staring at him with her silvery eyes from the body of an innocent woman.
What the hell was she doing in the Midwest United States? For that matter, what was she doing in any human dimension?
More importantly, why was she possessing Savannah?
Jasper had ridden into the Podunk town to save the little cowgirl from a simple demon attack or attachment… Not this!
Demons never scared him, even the fallen angels. But a goddess? In particular, the one who had killed him in his mortal life… That was a whole other story altogether!
Fear rushed through his veins to freeze the thumping of his heart. Paralyzed, even his mind iced over in terror.
***
For a moment, the scene from centuries earlier played out in his mind.
A beautiful woman with hair as dark as ebony and eyes of unholy silvery fire wielded a weapon of pure energy. Even hundreds of yards away, a mere flick of her wrist sliced through him—skin, muscle, tendon, deep into his organs. The pain had been too intense for screams.
Tears had not surfaced until he’d collapsed to the ground, watching his life’s blood gush like a river from his body.
Through his blurred vision, he witnessed his friends and fellow warriors all fall around him. Their blood joined with his to flood the barren ground.
It wasn’t until she’d kneeled over him that he’d truly wished for death. He’d prayed for death.
But Death had only laughed.
***
A sly grin spread across Savannah’s face, distorting her beautiful, flawless features.
“Miss me, my dearest Jasper?” The voice hissed like a snake speaking through its forked tongue.
His feet retreated a couple of steps until his back slammed against the splintered wooden door of another barn. Manea advanced toward him; her arms outstretched as if coming in for an embrace.
“Stay the fuck away from me”—he snarled with more bravado than he felt—“and get the hell out of her!” He clutched at his chest for a platinum cross chain, only to realize that necklace had been lost shortly after she’d murdered him centuries earlier.
Maniacal laughter tore from her throat, filling the already pungent air with the acrid odor of newly forged metal. “This little one”—her hands spread out against her chest, then rubbed them over the rest of her body, dipping lower to where her fingertips grazed the zipper of Savannah’s dirty Wrangler jeans—“is so lovely, and so ripe. I should have known a man given to the more sensual aspects of his human life would find his way to her.”
“Get out of her right now!” Jasper had meant the words to come out in a roar, but instead they sounded muted and meek to his own ears.
Why he couldn’t conjure the words to exorcise this bitch confounded him. He wouldn’t be able to get rid of her completely, but he should be able to send her back to whatever hell dimension she’d been banished to temporarily while he worked on a more thorough plan to save Savannah. A simple exorcism would not do the trick. Goddesses, even evil ones, were much more difficult to vanquish.
Manea quirked her head to the side, studying him. Although the woman before him was still the lovely Savannah, her eyes radiated sinister intent with a malicious force that transformed her beauty into an ugly mask. “All these years, all these centuries, you still fear me. How lovely. I had thought with all that time, you would’ve molded yourself into a more formidable opponent. Instead, I find the frightened young knight still terrified, cowering like a child in the dark.” She clucked her tongue against her teeth in a tsking sound.
Jasper’s mind raced. It sure would’ve been nice to be a little more informed when he’d left his friends in Washington, DC to speed out to the middle of nowhere for a simple guardian angel job. He was in no way prepared for this. He could throat-punch Lucifer himself but every molecule of fire and courage he possessed simply withered in the face of his own death-maker.
By instinct, he reached behind his back, where his dagger was safely sheathed and at the ready. His fingers closed over the hilt, twitched, and then left it alone. No, he couldn’t stab Savannah to flush out the demon. Besides, to get rid of Manea, it would take cutting out her heart, her eyes, and her tongue to banish her from the body she possessed.
No, he was incapable of that.
Straightening his spine, he schooled his features to not show his inner struggle. “What do you want now, Manea? You have no business here, and you have no authority to possess this woman. By the power of God, the angels, and all the saints, LEAVE!” At least this time his voice cooperated, and the final word came out with all the force of a lion’s roar.
It was greeted by more cackling. Honestly, a hyena’s laugh would sound like a symphony compared to it!
“I have every right to ‘this woman,’ as you call her. Come on, Jasper. You have always known she was more than that. Woman is not nearly enough of a word to describe her. You were just too afraid of that fact, afraid of her. That’s why you dumped her on the first rodeo family you could find. And those protection spells and meditations”—she shook her head dramatically with a finger tapping against the corner of her lips—“are not nearly adequate enough to protect her from more than the negative energies of the collective. Certainly, not enough to keep her from me.”
Had he known that years ago when he’d rescued Savannah? Yes, he had been more than happy to introduce her to a nice couple working a traveling rodeo and then leave without a thought. Hell, he had no reason to suspect she’d take to that life, either. But here Savi was—a rodeo clown still. Her powers had been tampered down and safely locked away, as far as he could tell, anyway. If he could kick himself, he would, for being so derelict in his duties. She was far more than an empath, far more than a psychic wonder-child who could speak with animals.
But exactly what Savannah Moses was, he had not bothered to find out. And now, it was about to bite him on the ass.
“Adjure te, spiritus nequissime, per Deum omnipotentem.”
The words slid from his tongue with ease. It only resulted in a twitch of the goddess’s head, followed by a giggle.
“Oh, honey. That tickles.”
“Adjure te, spiritus nequissime, per Deum omnipotentem.”
Her silver eyes narrowed, and the color swirled.
“Adjure te, spiritus nequissime, per Deum omnipotentem.”
She stomped over to him, nose-to-nose. The stench of sulfur made his eyes water. “You realize how pointless this whole exercise is, my dear. I will have her and there is nothing you can do about it. She is mine. Always has been and always will be.”
“Oh, there you two are!” A husky female voice called to them from down the long corridor leading to the arena.
Savannah’s eyes flashed pure white. “Until next time.” Her body went boneless, and she fell to the ground with a thud.
Jasper sighed with relief. Mama Wedgefield hobbled over with the assistance of her ornate walking cane. She stomped to the prone body of the young woman and prodded her with the stick. “What the hell?”
***
A bright white light burned her eyes. Savannah flinched from it, only to find herself lying on the dirt and gravel floor of the corridor between the steer barn and the shed where they kept fresh hay and feed for all the animals.
“What. The. Hell?”
A deep sigh came from someone to her left. An aggravated grumble on her right.
“There’s our little angel.” Jasper’s voice startled her to full wakefulness. When had he gotten here?
She pushed herself to a sitting position, one hand coming up to shield her eyes from the light. Her head hurt like she’d been kicked by Old Roscoe, the bull that had gored poor Randy a couple of weeks ago.
Mama Wedgefield’s harsh laugh sent a river of agony swimming over her entire head. “Told you she’d be okay. No need for a doctor. This girl is as strong as an ox, I tell you.” A hand grasped her elbow, forcefully pulling Savannah to her unstable feet.
“What happened?” she barely managed to squeak out. Her throat scratched as if she’d swallowed mounds of dirt.
A reassuring arm wrapped around her waist and supported her weight. Jasper led her down the corridor to the arena bleachers and eased her to a sitting position. “You fainted. Do you remember anything?”
Savannah searched the far recesses of her mind, as much as the pain would allow. It was an abyss of pitch-black darkness. The last thing she remembered was being annoyed her guardian angel savior had returned to rescue her yet again… And he was still as sexy as ever. Damn, those icy blue eyes of his lit her up from within with delicious sensations she dared not acknowledge.
“We were talking about…” Her voice faded. Why couldn’t she remember anything?
Mama clucked like an angry hen who had just discovered her eggs had been stolen by the farmer once again. “Goodness, girl. I have never known you to be the fainting kind.” Under her breath, but loud enough for Savannah to hear, she added, “You are going to scare away Mr. Moreau.”
Jasper cleared his throat. Savannah knew he had heard. He could’ve heard Mama all the way from the parking lot or Nebraska. “Miss Wedgefield, I promise you that she has done no such thing. Must’ve been the heat of the day; or, perhaps, she forgot to eat today.”
Anger burst through her headache. Forgot to eat? Like she was some silly prima donna too scatterbrained to remember to feed herself? How dare he imply…
A squeeze on her arm forced her to look up. He winked. Just go along with this, please.
The words swam around her head. She preferred to keep her telepathic conversations between the animals and herself. Humans—or in this case, angels—were another story. Regardless, she nodded.
“Yes, that must be it. Completely forgot to eat anything today, I’ve been so busy.” Inwardly, she groaned. She did sound like a scatterbrained teenager, not a self-reliant, strong female who stared down pissed-off bulls for a living.
Mama tutted at her. “Well, can’t have you fainting in the arena and causing another accident.” She picked up her phone and walked away. Savannah heard her ordering one of her staff—probably poor Billy—to order pizzas for the entire crew.
As soon as the other woman rounded the corner toward the offices, Jasper kneeled beside Savannah and took her hands. She hadn’t realized how chilled she was until his warm hands wrapped around hers. His eyes—the pearly light blue of an iceberg and just as dangerous—peered into hers like he could see straight through to her soul. Hell, maybe he could do just that.
“Do you recall anything? Anything at all?” He had lowered his voice to barely a whisper. One of his hands reached up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, sending frissons of pleasure from the point of contact to a deeper place within her.
“No. I don’t understand. I don’t faint! I’m not some…”
He placed a long finger over her lips as her voice had grown in volume. “Shush. Not so loud. Don’t want Mama overhearing any of this.”
Ugh! There it was. He was going to treat her like a child again. Well, she was no longer fifteen and in need of a savior. Damn him for making her feel like a helpless victim once again!
She steeled her expression so she put forth the image of someone perfectly in charge, not someone who had just passed out for no good reason. “No, I don’t remember anything other than telling you that I don’t need your help. Then”—her eyes blinked back tears she refused to shed—“next thing I know, I’m on the ground with you two hovering over me. And my head fucking hurts!”
A hesitant grin quirked up one corner of his mouth. “Yes, I know. You’re a total badass. But I am afraid, my dear, you do need my help. Trouble is”—he looked away briefly as if in deep thought—“I’m not sure I’m enough to help get you out of this situation. We’re both in deep trouble, little one.”
A chill washed over her. Being dumped in the frigid arctic waters would be as warm as a Jacuzzi bath compared to this sensation. If she couldn’t fix the situation, and Jasper doubted he had the power to, as well… then, deep trouble was quite the understatement.
“Tell me… Tell me everything.”