Chapter 4
Jasmine reached the top of the Merlot block. Vines & Soul Resort was built more like a sanctuary than a commercial luxury resort. There were twelve cabins altogether, scattered throughout the vineyard. Although it felt to guests as if they stayed among the vines, they didn’t. The vines were precious and needed to be protected from any kind of contamination. It didn’t matter how old and sturdy they were, once contamination occurred, it meant the end of the vines.
The cabins sat on blocks separate from the vines, but they were sandwiched on either side by the blocks where the vines were located, all of which were named after grape varietals. The cabin Jasmine put Bertram in was at the top of the Merlot block, and thus, naturally, it was called the Merlot Cabin.
It was only a one-minute walk from the restaurant to the Merlot Cabin. It wasn’t a long enough time for her to come up with a way to test whether Bertram was susceptible to magic. He could be a nonbeliever, but if his psyche was accepting of magic, then there was a chance they could convert him into an empathizer. But if he didn’t accept it, then even if he saw magic with his own eyes, he’d end up hating it.
She had some tricks up her sleeve to test him. Some of them were more intrusive than others, and using magic on someone without consent left a bad taste in her mouth.
She began to turn into the private entrance of the cabin, but then she stopped. Bertram had opened the window and was leaning outside with his cell phone, trying to get a phone connection. He had no chance for central cell coverage out here. She had totally forgotten to give him the information about their private network. In the grand scheme of things, telling him about the resort’s free cell phone service was the last thing on her mind.
But what had caught her attention first and brought her steps to a complete halt was the fact that Bertram was shirtless. He was well over six foot two and lean, with well-toned muscles that formed a six-pack on his abdomen when he arched over the windowsill, leaning further outside to get a phone signal. She blinked and tried to shake off her distracting and inappropriate thoughts.
That was when he saw her.
Damn.
“There’s no cell phone coverage out here, Bertram.”
Seeing her, he pulled himself back inside, put his shirt back on, leaving it unbuttoned, and opened the door. “Sorry, I was just trying to do some work…” He tapped on the phone helplessly and then pointed at his laptop. “I was just about to hot-spot my computer. Can’t do that now without a network.”
She put the picnic basket on the table. “Give me your phone.”
He handed her the phone. She opened the note app and typed in the network information. Then she handed it back to him. “It’s a private network we use in the vineyard.”
“Thank you,” he said, looking at the network icon blinking on his phone. He put the phone away and buttoned his shirt. His eyes lit up at the sight of the dinner as soon as she opened the cover of the basket.
“Well, it’s too late for you to go into town central, so I put something quick together. Nothing fancy.”
“I’ll take you out for dinner tomorrow night.”
She smiled at him. “Sure. I’ll pick a suitable place. For tonight, this is prawn cocktail and mango salad, pasta with wild mushrooms in red wine and garlic, and dark chocolate cake.” She put a bottle on the table. “And our signature Shiraz.”
“This is your quick meal?”
“The pasta and the salad are easy to make. And I cheated with the chocolate cake. I made it last night.”
“Right. Sure.” He helped set the table and pulled a chair over for her. “I saw the light at the back of the restaurant. Is that where you’re staying tonight?”
“No, that’s my office. I grabbed the Chardonnay Cabin, just behind yours. The vineyard isn’t at full capacity tonight.”
She watched him as he moved. Very efficient. Every movement precise and with purpose. Almost as if he did a mental calculation of the best route to go from A to B, and the quickest way to get it done. Maybe it was a professional hazard of being a detective. She sat down at the table after he set it.
“Which part of England did you come from?”
“I can never shake the accent, can I?” She smiled. “I was a London girl before I came here. I traveled a lot, so it’s hard to pinpoint the place I would call home.” She poured the wine. “But I must say, I feel that I belong here.”
He swirled the glass lightly three times on the table before smelling the wine and taking the first sip. She smiled. He knew his food and wine. What she served him wouldn’t be wasted.
He looked as if he approved of the wine. “This is perfect to balance the sweetness of the mango and prawn salad, and it gets us ready for the pasta. I suspect you didn’t use tomato sauce out of a bottle.”
She smiled, leaned back, and sipped her wine. “Tell me, what do you think I cooked the pasta in?”
She saw a quirk at the corner of his lips. He took this as a challenge.
He put a small portion of pasta on his plate and tasted. Then he frowned. “The pasta is full of flavor. But there’s no sauce. How did you do that?”
She smiled. “That’s my secret!” Then she spooned a dinner-sized proportion onto his plate. “I learned the technique at a French kitchen I worked in a long time ago, and I added a few twists of my own to make it mine.”
“Jasmine’s secret recipe,” he said with a grin.
“I don’t use recipes per se.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been doing this for a long time. I create what feels right for the occasion and for the people sharing the meals with me. As the situation changes, people’s moods change. I don’t see the point of sticking to formulas and assuming they’ll work for all occasions and for everyone. Sure, there are basic ingredients. But my kitchen rule is ‘no scale, no fail.’”
“That means there are no logical rules applied in your kitchen.”
“There doesn’t have to be a logical explanation for everything …” Suddenly, Bertram’s image wavered in front of her. A storm of emotions washed over her.
Fear.
Confusion.
She heard Bertram call out to her, but his voice seemed to echo in the distance.
She knew what was happening.
Her psychic channel had spontaneously kicked in at a very inconvenient time. She could sometimes track people’s emotions, and she was paying dearly right now for that unstable ability she couldn’t control. Sometimes, it triggered when she didn’t expect it and connected her to random people.
This time, however, it wasn’t a random person. She felt Landon’s emotions—or lack thereof. They came out strong, then faded rapidly. It felt to her like he was drowning or dying. She could feel the cold of the morgue floor. She could feel his pain. She could hear the humming of supernatural creatures.
“Landon!” she said out loud as she was yanked back to her reality.
She was floating. No, Bertram was carrying her in his arms, and they were out of the cabin. She realized she had passed out. This wasn’t the first time her psychic ability had played tricks on her, but she had never passed out because of it.
“Put me down, Bertram, please.”
“You need to go to the hospital,” he said, but he still put her down as she asked. He kept a hand on her shoulder to ensure she was steady. She pulled out her cell phone, and as soon as Mia picked up, she said, “Mia, Landon is in trouble. I can sense him. He’s at work.”
“I’ll go there right now, and I’ll call Beatrice. Do you want me to pick you up?”
“No, there’s no time.”
“Okay, I’ll call you when I get there. Bye now.”
Jasmine put the phone away and could see the concern in Bertram’s eyes.
“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he said. “That’s not negotiable. One second you’re talking, and the next second you’re on the floor. The very second you’re back up, you’re on the phone about the trouble you sense Landon is facing, whatever that means. I don’t need a logical explanation for this because I have a feeling you wouldn’t give it to me. But I need to hear from a doctor that you’re okay. I’m the police, and that’s my protocol. You’re a citizen in need of assistance.”
She sighed. “Fine. Hospital then.” This could be handy, she thought. She drove her car into a ditch last week, so she was carless. The morgue was in the basement of the hospital. If Bertram drove her there, she might be able to sneak down and see if Landon was okay—if she could somehow lose Bertram during the process so that he wouldn’t see the half-transformed body in the morgue.