Page 12 of Iona's Christmas
“There’s two bedrooms for you. The kitchen is full of food and coffee. Help yourself. This is where you’ll be staying and you and Etienne have the level to yourself,” Noble said as we entered an almost luxurious lounge area. The bedrooms were placed around it, and I spotted an open door showing the kitchen.
“There are bathrooms in there, small but functional. We prepared those two rooms there.” Noble pointed, and we nodded.
“Get some rest, guys, you both look fucked. You’re safe here. Warden will be waiting for you when you wake up,” Noble said and turned to exit.
“Thank you for getting up for us,” I called, and Noble shook his head.
“All officers take turns in staying up one night in twelve. We don’t leave the gate guard alone,” Noble replied.
“Thanks any way for the welcome,” I offered, and Noble grinned.
“That I’ll accept. Hit the sack, that’s an order,” he said and left.
“Bossy bastard,” Etienne muttered, but we headed for our bedrooms. I didn’t even bother undressing. I collapsed onto the bed and fell to sleep instantly.
???
The smell of bacon and eggs cooking woke me, and I yawned as I glanced down at my phone and was shocked. It had gone midday. I sat up quickly and headed for the bathroom. Once I’d done my business, which included brushing my teeth, I walked outside.
Etienne was in the kitchen cooking, but Warden and Undertaker were also present.
“Cécile,” Warden greeted me and passed me a mug of coffee.
“Nectar,” I murmured and sank into an armchair, cupping the heavenly beverage. I didn’t function until I had downed two cups of coffee. Sometimes, I needed more if I’d been woken from a vision or prophecy.
Warden and Undertaker waited patiently as Etienne brought me in a second just as I finished mine first. He then put a plate of bacon and eggs in front of me.
“Scrambled and fried?” Undertaker asked, surprised.
“Best way for eggs. Spread the dippy yolk on the toast. Add scrambled and then bacon on top,” I replied, shoving a mouthful of food in.
Warden’s eyebrows rose. “When was the last time you ate properly?”
“About four days ago. And we haven’t had a proper home-cooked meal since we fled New Orleans,” Etienne inserted.
“You ran?” Undertaker inquired.
“Yes,” I mumbled.
“Cécile, what’s going on? Why not approach Jameson?” Warden demanded.
“Jameson can’t keep me safe,” I replied.
Warden and Undertaker sat up straight. I’d just issued insult to the National President.
“Not because of whatever reason you’re thinking of,” I added. “Thirteen months ago, bodies started cropping up, young women aged between fifteen and twenty-five. They were always discovered after a full moon. They’d been raped and tortured before being ritually sacrificed,” I explained.
“Shit. Did you tell Jameson?”
“I’m not sure. The bodies were found in San Antonio, Texas. Wasn’t a Louisiana problem, so quite likely, Jameson wasn’t aware. I was asked by the Feds to come in. Worked with the cops before and have a good, solid rep. I didn’t mind going to help, especially when the youngest victim was a fifteen-year-old child.
“Etienne and I travelled to San Antonio, and I did my thing. I was able to give them some information, and that led them to a suspect. I went home because there was nothing more I could give them. We’re unsure what happened, but the individual fled, and two more bodies dropped. But the serial killer had somehow discovered my connection and was now sending me messages. They were followed by images of the dead girls, and it was horrific.
“We called the Feds back, and they provided some protection, but it didn’t work. The murderer began sending me gifts, and we realised he was focused on me. Which was bad news. The crunch point came six weeks ago when he dropped his last victim. The girl could have been my clone. It was a clear message. Then, my house was broken into by him, and we knew he had his sights locked on me.
“The Feds and cops could not protect me, I was dead if he got his hands on me. He’d sent messages about wanting to explore my brain and use me to find victims. He’s totally insane. Etienne and I packed bare minimum and fled in the middle of the night. Since then, we have been laying false trails everywhere and living off cash. We daren’t use a card and couldn’t show ID’s at a lot of hotels. We’ve been on edge and unsafe for weeks,” I said, drawing in a deep breath.
“Why not go to Jameson?” Undertaker asked.