Out of Body

“What I have to get on with is leaving me all alone in this big bed. Cruel, cruel woman. I didn’t hear the phone, anyway.”

“It didn’t ring.” If he was going to be around her, he might as well start learning the ropes. “Uncle doesn’t need a telephone if he knows where I am and he really wants to reach me.”

He groaned and threw an arm over his face. “What have I gotten into?”

She bit back the temptation to tell him he was free to get out the second he wanted to. She didn’t want him to so why give him ideas?

“Bye,” she said.

On the way out of the flat she looked around, expecting to see Winnie curled up somewhere. Willow usually popped the dog through Marley’s front door before leaving for work.

Winnie wasn’t in the flat this time.

Marley covered the distance to Uncle Pascal’s in minutes and tapped on his door. Rather than call her in, he opened it himself and gave her a piercing look. “I tried to stop this from happening,” he said quietly. “I was overruled.”

Marley patted his hand and kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry. Hey, Sykes. I thought you hated early mornings.”

“I do.” Sykes sounded furious and Marley got edgy.

Her brother held Winnie so she flopped over his shoulder while he kept an arm across her back legs. She gave Marley an indolently satisfied glance and settled her head down again.

“How’s Gray?” Willow had curled up tightly in a wicker chair shaped like a bird’s nest. “He’s so dear.”

Again, her sister’s reaction to Gray bemused Marley. “Gray’s fine. Really good.”

“Amazing,” Willow said, shaking her head. “Time heals.”

Marley was too tired and too overwhelmed to dig for explanations.

“Who is this man you have accepted?” The man who asked wore his strawberry-red hair tied in a ponytail that reached his waist. He turned to look at Marley with dark green eyes.

“Papa,” she said, almost under her breath. “Papa?” She held out her arms.

“Yes,” Antoine Millet said, his thin face tensed. He gave her a quick hug. “It is your papa. You have become a woman, but it seems you have forgotten your responsibilities while I’ve been gone.”

“Oh, boy,” she said. “Some things never change. I’m doing just fine with my responsibilities.”

“Fornicating with unsuitable people is one of your duties?” Antoine said. “I think not.”

“Antoine,” Pascal said. “Marley is an exemplary girl, a joy who has helped me a great deal.”

“You are talking about my responsibilities, Papa?” Marley said. “I haven’t seen you in years. How many? Fifteen? Uncle Pascal is my mentor.”

“Don’t—” Antoine pointed at her “—use that word lightly. There is only one Mentor and that’s why I’m here. Your mother and I are making progress tracking down the Mentor. When we find him, he will help us deal with the curse. At last we’ll find a way to deal effectively with any dark-haired male Millets—without having them visit disaster on us.”

Sykes made a sound that resembled a snarl and Marley wouldn’t look at him.

Antoine continued as if Sykes hadn’t interrupted. “The Mentor will also want to be sure all of us—including you, miss—are following the instructions he left for us.”

“Sykes?” Marley attempted to make contact with her brother.

“Yo, Marley. This is bizarre, but keep your cool.”

“Has Papa been told about—Does he know anything about me being involved with something that could be sticky?”

“Not the way you mean. But as you can see, he’s picked up something about your love life. Uncle Pascal knew you weren’t home all night, then he figured out you had someone with you when you did get back. He didn’t tell Papa, but he seems to know anyway. How’s Gray in bed? Nuclear from the look of you—which may be what gave Papa his ideas.”

“Sykes!”

“Did he have any reason to wonder what he’d got himself into?”

In other words, Sykes wanted to know if Marley had met a potential Bonding Partner. “Later.”

“Marley’s in love. Well, well, well.”

“Gray’s probably a powerful paranormal sensitive,” she said and enjoyed watching his flaring brows rise almost to his hairline.

“I’ve got to get back to your mother,” Papa said. “She and your two older sisters are alone in London.”

Marley held her breath, waiting for someone to remind her father that he’d left most of his family alone, for most of their lives. Silence greeted Antoine Millet’s announcement.

“Sykes,” Antoine said. “You will make yourself more present to the family. It may be that you will be required to take up your position after all.”

“I think he’s lost his mind,” Sykes told Marley.

“Until I let you know otherwise, we will make sure the entire family is never all in one place at the same time,” Antoine said.

“For a change,” Willow said, surprising everyone and bringing a grin to Marley’s mouth. “I thought we’d been doing that for twenty years.”

Antoine ignored her. “If something untoward should happen, we can’t afford to have all of us destroyed at once.”

“Well,” Sykes said. “That’s a conversation killer. Do you have something else you want to share with us, Pops?”

Antoine scowled, but Pascal hid a grin.

“Leandra and I believe the Mentor is manifested in a sibylline casket he has left for us. Perhaps it is inscribed on the inside, or the outside—or this object could be an urn of unimaginable value. There are many possibilities, but whatever it is may well be the source of our troubles. It could be for the possession of this priceless artifact that disaster originally befell the Millets. Our dilemma now is to decide if Sykes is the next carrier of destruction.”

“Carrier?” Sykes said. “Am I a harbinger of some sort of disease?”

“Quite possibly as far as the Millets are concerned,” Antoine said. “But if not, you will have to lead the family.”

Marley couldn’t bear to look at Uncle Pascal, who had perfected the art of fuming in silence.

“This mysterious urn or casket,” Sykes said flatly. “Where did that idea come from?”

“From years of selfless searching, my boy,” Antoine said. “We now know that the Mentor’s revelations were stolen by a woman in Bruges and she sold it for its great value. After the theft, what is rightfully ours was recovered, but we don’t know what happened to it. When its whereabouts are known there are those who will try to take it from us again—by any means.”

“Twaddle,” Willow said from the farthest corner she’d been able to find.

Antoine shook his head in exasperation. He scowled at her. “You need a lot of work, and you,” he pointed at Pascal, “should be dealing with that. This young woman is denying her powers and no Millet is allowed such outrageous behavior.”

“Perhaps you have forgotten that I am the head of the Millet family,” Pascal said in a far too pleasant voice. “I will take everything you’ve said into consideration. Please contact me the moment you learn anything else. Meanwhile, we will start our own enquiries into this casket or whatever. Have a good trip back to London, brother.”

“What is it, Marley?” Sykes asked her in secret.

“I’m not sure. I have to think.” But had the vision she’d seen of a glowing golden object been no less than a precognition of the Mentor’s dangerous treasure?

Antoine looked around and slowly a smile spread over his face. “Feisty lot. Wouldn’t have you any other way. Sykes—straighten up. Willow—whether you like it or not, you are gifted and will soon come into your own. You won’t be able to fight it.”

To Marley’s horror, Sykes, an evil smile on his handsome face, began to fade out.

Antoine snapped his fingers at his son. “I knew I shouldn’t have taught you that. It’s far too powerful.”