Chapter 2
The familiar scent of vanilla and roses greeted Ciaran. He kicked his shoes off on the lush carpet of his master suite at Mon Ciel, the palace belonging to his family.
He might tell Juliette about the blood flowers. Whether or not he believed in superstition, what happened bothered him more than a little.
He pulled the tie from his collar and walked into the closet when a cool hand covered his eyes from behind. A voice as light and colorful as an Irish lullaby whispered into his ear, “Hello, stranger. My husband won’t be happy at all when he finds out about you.”
He turned around. “Your husband shouldn’t be surprised. He married such a beautiful woman, he should know he’s got competition.”
He lifted her up. Juliette wrapped her long legs around his waist and let him carry her to bed. He lay her down on the bed and ravished her mouth. He hadn’t seen her all day long—he was starved for her. He could comfortably justify it as the lust of newlyweds.
His hands stopped on her flaming red gown. She was wearing artfully applied makeup and her favorite perfume.
“Is there an occasion I have forgotten?” he asked, searching his mind frantically but coming up with nothing of significance attached to this particular day.
Juliette sat up, adjusted her hair, and smiled at him. “Do you like the dress?”
“Only if you wear it . . . and then take it off when appropriate . . .” He grinned.
He stood next to the bed, preparing for whatever might be coming at him. She still lay down, lazily rubbing her bare foot against his thighs.
“You’ve got to have an opinion about the dress as I’m wearing it to a very important function in a couple of weeks.” She smiled.
Ciaran rolled his eyes and flopped face down on the bed. Juliette rubbed his back and wrapped her long legs around him. “I don’t care what your forever-extended family will do for your birthday. But I have to have my private time with you. Also you have to open my presents before you deal with everyone else.”
“I’m not dealing with anyone.” His voice was muffled in the mattress.
“Darling, you’re turning thirty. You’ve got to grow up at some point.”
He sat up, leaning against the headboard. “This is my room, and you are my wife. That’s all I want to know right now. I don’t want to bring my family or anyone else into this bedroom.”
She stood up. “And that’s why we’re celebrating your birthday here and now, just the two of us!”
He laughed. “It’s a very attractive proposition. But it would be even better if you didn’t wear any dress at all.”
She winked. “I’ve got to wear something for you to take off.” She went to the wall cabinet and opened it. Inside was a tray with appetizers, a small birthday cake, champagne, and a small box wrapped in a bright purple ribbon. She poured champagne into some tall, slender glasses and brought them over to the bed.
She was stunning. He took his glass, still sitting on the bed, his eyes fixed on her face. He just wanted to ravish those lips that were made for sex. He hopped off the bed.
“No. You stay right there, birthday boy.” She used a single finger to push him back to a sitting position on the bed. She climbed onto him and straddled his lap, facing him. As she gazed at him, he caught a brief glimpse of something strange in her eyes, but he was too distracted to dwell on it.
She drained her champagne. When he reached to kiss her lips, she stopped him. She yanked his shirt open and moved her lips to his chest. His pulse quickened, but just when his hands started to roam over her body, she whispered, “Let’s look at your presents first.” She put a small box in his hand.
He smiled and opened it. It was a small vial containing a clear liquid. He opened his mouth to say something, but she put a finger on his lips to stop his words. “You don’t have to take it. But if your migraines turn bad, promise me you’ll give this a try.”
“Juliette!”
“Unless you don’t trust me.”
“You’re one of the most competent engineers I’ve ever met. But I don’t believe in Mrs. Hanson’s natural medicines. I know you use her ingredients.”
Juliette smiled. “I understand. And as I said, you don’t have to take it.”
He touched her cheek. “I don’t want to disappoint you. Let’s not argue over a headache medicine.”
“What about something grander? Life, for example.” She hummed the tune of a song she had written during their honeymoon, “Little hummingbird, do you see the sky? It is free. It is yours. Fly. Past the mountains. Past the oceans. There you will find love . . .”
“Juliette, what have you done?” He was beginning to understand the strange look in her eyes before. What he had seen was a shade of dark satisfaction. “Have you been working on the Golden Life?” he asked, knowing the answer already.
It was a project they’d started together before they got married—a medicine that could revive the newly dead. If successful, it would change the landscape of modern medicine. Only that would give Juliette this look of accomplishment.
“You have to be happy with this present, Ciaran. We’ve got it. We’ve made it. The Golden Life. I revived the lab rat. It didn’t just come back as it was before—it was better than before death.”
He had guessed the answer, but it still felt as if she had pulled the rug out from under him. “Are you out of your mind, Juliette?”
“You’ve worked on it your whole life, Ciaran. Why do you suddenly want to stop? Is it because it needs one ingredient you don’t approve of?”
“And you’ve gone ahead and put it in apparently!” he could feel his rage coming. Control, he warned himself.
She smiled, a warm smile that was fading by the second. “You were right. That ingredient enabled the completion of the medicine. But it works. It’s cruel, but it works, Ciaran.” The smile had faded from her face, and she swayed. He caught her in his arms and carried her to the bed.
“Jesus Christ, don’t tell me you tried it on yourself.”
“Not yet.”
“What did you take?”
She was almost out of breath. “My potion. There’s nothing you can do, Ciaran. It was in my champagne glass.” She smiled again.
“I can’t believe you would do this to me, Juliette. Where’s the damn drug?”
“In the cabinet.”
He scrambled to the cabinet and saw another present dressed in purple ribbon. Opening it, he found a syringe in a box. He grabbed it and darted toward his wife.
Juliette lay in the bed, her eyes glassed over, but she still hummed her song. “Little hummingbird, do you see the sky?”
She grabbed his hand when he wanted to inject the medicine into her. “Not yet, Ciaran. If you do it now, it won’t work.”
“I can’t wait until you die. I can’t do that . . .”
“You have to. You should be happy, Ciaran, for what we have accomplished.”
“I don’t care . . .” He gathered her into his arms and rocked her. Regardless of whether he liked it or not, he knew she had to die for the medicine to work. She had to die so he could revive her. “Tell me you’re not in pain, please . . .” he whispered.
“You were born to do this, Ciaran. You will change people’s lives. You’re a crusader.”
“You don’t know what it means to me, so don’t say that.”
“I know what it means to you. I know what it’s like to do something that’s larger than life. If I could be a part of your journey, I’ll be happy.”
“Please tell me you’re not in pain . . .”
“I love you, Ciaran . . .” She closed her eyes and drew in her last breath.
He felt the vibration of emotion ready to burst out from him. His uncontrollable rage was coming. He was furious at himself and at the life’s mission he’d set himself up with. He was angry it had caught up to the woman he loved. But there was no time to wallow in self-pity now. He held his breath and steadied his hands. He couldn’t make mistakes now. He had to stay calm. He put Juliette down on the bed and checked the syringe. Then he injected the golden liquid into her.
He waited.
Ten seconds.
Thirty seconds.
Sixty seconds.
His head was pounding with a migraine, but he ignored it and concentrated on Juliette. There were no vital signs indicating she was coming back.
Stay calm! He stood from the bed and took the syringe. He would go to the lab, check the sample, and find the solution. He always found a way to get himself out of impossible situations. He had taken only two steps when the room exploded with light. Ciaran was thrown against the wall like a rag doll.
When he pulled himself up, he saw a man in his late fifties with flowing white hair, standing in a circle of white and blue light in the middle of the room. He looked quite formidable in his long black robe. “You killed her,” said the man.
“No, I didn’t. But if I don’t get to the medicine, she will die.”
The man looked Ciaran up and down. “I thought you were better than this. If it was possible to make the Golden Life, you would have made it.”
The Golden Life was his deepest secret—only people in his family would know about it. His mind raced hundreds of possibilities why this stranger knew his secret. But he had to tend to Juliette. “I have to get to the lab!” Ciaran rushed toward the door.
An invisible force grabbed at him and threw him to the wall again. “No point. She’s dead, and that’s your fault.”
The man stared at Ciaran. The man didn’t making any physical movement except for a slight narrowing of his eyes. The invisible force squeezed around Ciaran’s neck, choking him.
“Air bending. Who are you?” Ciaran gasped for air.
The man smirked. “You’re knowledgeable, Ciaran, but not enough to save yourself.”
The migraine was nothing compared to the pain the force was causing him right now. His life was drifting away from him. “Who . . . are . . . you?”
“Mon Ciel isn’t as safe as your mother thought. All I need is a channel to get in here.” The man narrowed his eyes even more, and the force squeezed harder at Ciaran’s neck and crushed his body. Then Ciaran heard the door burst open. People stormed into the room. There was the sound of a gunshot and a struggle.
And then he didn’t remember anything else.