Dark Vengeance Read online

  “I don’t think anyone else will notice.” Doug turned when the door opened again and a middle-aged woman entered. “Hey, Ms. Ryan! Glad to see you.”

  Wearing designer jeans, a stylish sweater, and leather boots that probably cost more than Paige made in a week, Jennifer Ryan smiled with genuine warmth when Doug introduced her to Paige.

  “Paige has worked here before, which makes her an expert on our dinner routine.” Doug grabbed a scorched pot holder, opened the oven, and removed a large tin of hot rolls. “She’ll show you what to do.”

  Taking the hint, Paige handed Jennifer an apron and waved her to follow. “The routine is pretty basic. We scoop whatever Doug cooks onto plates. Most nights we only have one main dish, so the line usually moves right along.”

  “I think I can handle that,” Jennifer said.

  Unlike some of the rich contributors Paige dealt with at the clinic, there was no trace of superiority in Jennifer Ryan’s attitude. It was, Paige decided, entirely possible that the woman had been motivated to donate her time by an honest desire to give something back to the community.

  “We also stock the dish bins and fill the condiments before the meal,” Paige continued, “and we help clean up afterward.”

  When they reached the counter, Kevin unhooked his cane and slid off the stool. “I’m happy to report that the silverware bins and the napkin holders are full,” he said, saluting with his free hand and grinning.

  “You’ve been busy.” Smiling back, Paige started to hold out her hand. She pulled back when she realized that Kevin had his right hand on the cane to support himself. She quickly tried to smooth over the awkward moment. “This is Jennifer, and I’m Paige.”

  “I’m delighted.” If Kevin noticed her discomfort, he didn’t show it. “You certainly live up to everything I’ve heard about you.”

  “What exactly did you hear?” Paige asked with wary curiosity. Was the space between her and Kevin really supercharged with mutual interest, or was she imagining the chemistry? She rarely felt an instant attraction to anyone, and the effect was disconcerting.

  “That you were a beautiful angel,” Kevin said, “full of goodness and light.”

  “Doug said that?” Paige asked, stunned. The gruff boss of the Fifth Street Shelter disdained poetry and sissy words. Had he seen her orb somewhere without her knowing it?

  “No, some old guy did. When he asked if you were here and I told him you weren’t, he shuffled off toward the rest room, talking to himself.” Kevin nodded toward the far end of the dining hall. “I couldn’t help but overhear.”

  “Stanley Addison,” Paige said, relieved. She doubted that the old man had seen her orb, but even if he had, it wouldn’t be too serious. No one paid any attention or gave any credence to the nonsensical ramblings of the senile senior.

  “Someone special?” Jennifer asked.

  Paige nodded, realizing the affection she felt for the old man was evident on her face. “He’s a sweet, totally harmless, slightly addled old man with no family—at least none that we can find. Since he collects Social Security, I’m trying to get him into the Hawthorn Hill Home for low-income retired people.”

  “So you really are an angel, then,” Jennifer said.

  “Mr. Addison’s angel anyway,” Kevin added. “Maybe he isn’t so addled after all.”

  “It’s my job to help people,” Paige explained, embarrassed. The intensity of Kevin’s blue-eyed gaze seemed to set her blood on fire. She rubbed the crimson flush creeping up her neck.

  “Okay, you guys!” Doug called out. “Social hour’s over. The hungry horde will be storming through the door any minute, so let’s get to work!”

  Doug to the rescue! Paige thought with silent gratitude. She needed a break from the tension.

  Jennifer glanced at Doug. “The taskmaster with a heart of gold, right?”

  “Yeah,” Paige agreed, “but most of the time he forgets that we’re not paid employees, which may explain why this shelter has a huge volunteer turnover.”

  Jennifer shrugged. “I think he’s cute.”

  “A diamond in the rough.” Paige stole a glance at the older woman’s left hand. No wedding ring. The week was certainly getting off to an interesting start.

  The next three hours whizzed by as Paige, Doug, and the new recruits served dinner to thirty-five hungry men and women who lived on the street for thirty-five different reasons. Some of them preferred to fend for themselves on the outside at night. Others slept at the shelter. Tonight, setting up the cots had been delayed while Doug walked Jennifer to her car.

  “So are we done?” Kevin held on to the prep table with one hand and hung a large serving spoon on a nail in the wall above it.

  “That’s it.” Paige tossed her apron into a laundry bag.

  Kevin turned and leaned against the table to brace himself. “Are you going straight home?”

  Paige hesitated, anticipating Kevin’s next question. Although his interest was obvious to anyone with eyes and a rudimentary command of the language—body and English—it hadn’t occurred to her that he might ask her out so soon. If he did, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to go. Not without getting to know him a little better. She decided to fudge for time. “I want to make sure Stanley’s settled in for the night before I leave,” Paige said.

  “Stanley just left.” Kevin glanced toward the front door.

  Paige threw up her hands. After much argument, she had finally convinced Doug to keep a sleeping spot available for Stanley Addison. However, the old guy sometimes forgot the shelter’s routine and wandered out. He almost always returned before Doug locked up for the night.

  “He’ll be back,” Paige said. “I hope.”

  “You’re going to wait?” Kevin asked.

  “At least until I’m sure that Doug won’t lock him out. I’m this close to getting Stanley admitted to Hawthorn Hill.” Paige held her thumb and forefinger an inch apart to illustrate. “I’d feel awful if he had an accident on the street before I closed the deal.”

  “You really like the old guy, don’t you?” Kevin sounded pleased, as though he understood the need to help others that motivated her.

  Actually, Paige realized, since Kevin volunteered to work, he might be as of much a do-gooder as I am. The combination of good looks and a good heart was hard to resist.

  “I adore Stanley,” Paige said. “Everything will probably work out for him, which is great, but”—she paused, sighing—“there are just so many people in trouble, and way too often they’ve been hurt by circumstances beyond their control. I wish I could help them all, but I can’t. It’s just not possible.”

  “But you care,” Kevin said. “That’s more than a lot of people can say.”

  “Maybe, but sometimes the hopelessness of it all just wears me out.” Paige paused, unable to explain that her experiences with unspeakable, supernatural evil added to the burden of mortal misery. Although Kevin was sympathetic, the detour into hopeless despair had to be a turnoff.

  “I think you’re being way too hard on yourself.” Kevin reached for his cane, which was hanging on the end of the table. He could stand unassisted for short periods of time and had alternately stood or sat on a stool while he helped serve dinner. The cane provided support when he walked.

  “Your cane is beautiful. Is it an antique?” Paige asked with an admiring glance at the staff. The curved, silver handle was engraved with fine, swirling lines that continued unbroken into the upper portion of the polished wooden shaft. Great care and pride had gone into the craftsmanship.

  “As a matter of fact, it is. Family heirloom.” Kevin raised the cane so Paige could examine it more closely. The movement unbalanced him, and he staggered sideways.

  “Careful!” As Paige reached out to steady him, the straight end of the wooden cane flipped up and hit her arm. Startled by a small, static shock, she recoiled slightly.

  Oblivious to the hazards of his flyaway cane, Kevin caught the edge of the table, pulled himself upright, and
planted the cane on the floor. “Sorry. I’m not usually such a klutz.”

  “No problem—” Paige swayed, suddenly dizzy.

  “Are you all right?” Kevin gripped Paige’s arm with his free hand. “You look a little pale.”

  “I’m fine.” Suddenly overcome with exhaustion, Paige clamped onto the table to keep her legs from buckling.

  “Why am I not convinced?” Kevin frowned. “Maybe you caught some weird bug one of these people dragged in from the street. They don’t live in the most sanitary conditions.”

  Paige waved off his concern. “I’m just tired. Between my regular job and working here last week, I didn’t get as much rest as I probably needed.”

  Paige didn’t add that she had spent most of the weekend working with Piper to improve her memory skills. According to Leo, failure to recall an incantation or other pertinent magical lore had brought about the premature demise of many a good witch. She did not intend to join the ranks of the forgetful dead.

  Paige tightened her grip on the table when another wave of dizziness washed over her. “Maybe I’d better sit down for a few minutes.”

  “Maybe you’d better let me drive you home,” Kevin suggested as Paige settled onto a stool.

  Paige started to protest, then realized her options were limited. If she tried to drive, she might pass out from fatigue. Piper was working at P3, and Phoebe was still in class. Leo would orb in if she called, but since the nearest bus stop was several blocks away, she didn’t want to explain how he had arrived without wheels on such short notice.

  “I’d love a ride, Kevin, if you’re sure it’s not too much trouble.”

  “No trouble at all.” Kevin grinned. “What about your car?”

  “My brother-in-law can pick it up later, after P3 closes,” Paige said, yawning.

  Phoebe felt overwhelmed by the amount of information the community college instructor had dumped on the class. She and twenty-four other students had been introduced to several basic Web site construction functions, most of which involved complex command sequences they were expected to have memorized by the following Monday.

  “I love messing around with computers,” the young woman sitting beside Phoebe said, “but so far, this course is completely boring.”

  “My head is spinning,” Phoebe said with a glance at Kate Dustin. Peaches-and-cream pretty, with blue eyes and a bright smile, Kate was the only other student in the class who had reached the ripe old age of twenty-five.

  “Not that Mr. Deekle cares,” Phoebe added. “I am absolutely positive he was born without a funny bone.”

  At the front of the room, a tall, gangling man with a mustache as sparse as his thinning hair shut down his computer. Wayne Deekle’s bearing was as stiff as his monotonous delivery. He had not cracked a smile the whole night. If Phoebe managed to master the art of Web site design, it would be in spite of the instructor’s lifeless lectures.

  “Ha!” Kate choked back a laugh and waved Phoebe into the hall. “I was under the impression that twenty-first-century computer geeks were all brainy hunks. Silly me.”

  “Mr. Deekle is stuck in the last century,” Phoebe said. They left the building through double swinging doors behind three young men walking a few yards ahead. They were all good-looking athletic types with smarts. A cluster of potential corporate success, she thought with a nod toward the group. “Those Web master wannabes taking the class with us are the new millennium models.”

  “You could be right about that.” Sighing, Kate focused on the three men as they hurried across the parking lot. When they went into Compute-A-Cup across the street, she looked at Phoebe with a sly grin. “Want to join me for a cup of coffee?”

  The invitation caught Phoebe off guard. She hadn’t socialized much with the younger, college crowd while she had been an undergraduate at the university. Aside from the age gap, the witch thing made it difficult to form solid friendships.

  Kate was close to her in age, though, and just wanted female cover while she trolled for male company. Phoebe had no desire to fend off eager campus studs, but she welcomed the chance to relax after the grueling class. Cole was out of town, Paige was working at the shelter, and Piper and Leo would be at P3 until the wee hours. She didn’t have to rush home.

  “Coffee sounds great,” Phoebe said, “but I can’t stay too long. I have to go home and review my notes before I forget what they mean.”

  “I can so relate.” Kate entered the quaint café and nodded with approval as she glanced around. “Cool place, huh?”

  Phoebe had to agree. Baskets of live plants hung from the ceiling. The walls were covered with prints of famous paintings, bulletin boards full of notes and flyers advertising everything from upcoming concerts to yard sales, and racks of books, magazines, and newspapers. Furnished with mismatched tables, chairs, and upholstered sofas, Compute-A-Cup was busy without being jammed packed and seemed to attract a quiet, studious clientele.

  Maybe because every table is equipped with a computer and Internet access, Phoebe thought. One of the men they had followed inside turned on his table computer before he finished sitting down.

  “Let’s sit over there.” Kate pointed to a corner table on the opposite side of the room from their male classmates. She jumped to grab it before someone else staked a claim.

  Phoebe joined her as a man perched on a stool with a twelve-string guitar began to sing an Irish ballad. Kate’s company, a hot cappuccino, and the folksinger’s mellow tenor were just what she needed to take the edge off another long day of being unemployed.

  “Thanks so much for coming with me,” Kate said as Phoebe sat down and dropped her books on the floor. She pushed the flat computer screen against the wall without turning it on.

  “Thanks for asking me.” Phoebe leaned back when a student waitress arrived to wipe crumbs off the table.

  “Do you guys know what you want?” The girl waited expectantly, pen poised over her order pad.

  “Mocha cappuccino and cheesecake with strawberries, if you have it.” As long as she was hanging out college style, Phoebe thought, she might as well indulge her sweet tooth. She could work off the extra calories in the Manor’s basement gym tomorrow.

  “We got it.” The waitress looked at Kate, who ordered the same.

  After the girl left, Kate’s gaze flicked toward the three men huddled around their computer screens. “I really do appreciate it, Phoebe. I like to unwind after intense brain work, but I would have felt funny sitting here alone.”

  “No problem,” Phoebe said honestly. “Except for studying, I didn’t have anything better to do.”

  “What? No man in your life?” Kate’s eyes widened with disbelief.

  Phoebe didn’t want to discuss her personal life with a stranger. Her gaze fell on Kate’s wide gold bracelet, which was engraved with an intricate, Celtic braid design. “What an unusual piece,” she said to change the subject.

  “It belonged to my great-grandmother”—Kate paused, frowning thoughtfully—“or maybe it was my great-great-grandmother. Whatever. There’s writing etched inside, but I’ve never been able to make it out.” She slipped the bracelet off and pressed it into Phoebe’s hand. “Maybe you can.”

  Phoebe’s response fizzled into a guttural grunt as a vision flooded her mind.

  …Kate, wearing crude metal armor over fur and leather, stood by a huge tree. Lightning arrowed downward from a rip in the black clouds that streaked the sky. The bolt hit the base of a towering tree, felling the timber in a cascade of exploding sparks….

  Phoebe dropped the bracelet as she snapped out of the trance. Although the vision left her stomach in knots, she quickly regained her outward composure. Thankfully, Kate was watching the folksinger and seemed unaware of the brief lapse.

  “Anything?” Kate asked, turning back to Phoebe.

  “What do you mean?” Phoebe asked, her tone wary.

  “The inscription.” Kate put the bracelet back on. “Guess you couldn’t figure out what it says either
.”

  Phoebe shook her head, relieved her trance state had not been noticed, but feeling queasy. Based on the barbaric wardrobe and surroundings, she was certain the violent images were from Kate’s past, not her future. Since she couldn’t change the woman’s history, there was no point bringing up the disturbing event until the Charmed connection became apparent.

  “Here we go.” A waitress appeared carrying two large cups of cappuccino and two plates of New York–style cheesecake topped with a strawberry sauce.

  Phoebe blinked when the girl set a mug and plate in front of her. “Did I order cheesecake?”

  Chapter

  3

  “That’s none of your business, Doug.” Paige scowled at the phone. She usually shrugged off Doug’s teasing, but today she was too tired and irritable to tolerate his impudence.

  “I think it’s great that you and Kevin hit it off, Paige,” Doug said. “You’re too young to spend so much of your free time serving squashed spuds to a bunch of street people.”

  “I thought you liked street people.” Paige saw her boss staring from across the room. She had been twenty minutes late to work because she had overslept. One of the few things Mr. Cowan disliked more than a habitually tardy employee was an employee who used clinic time and phones for personal business. Her record in that department wasn’t exemplary, either.

  “It’s okay for me to hang with the homeless,” Doug said, his tone serious. “I’m a cranky, burned-out has-been.”

  “Jennifer didn’t seem to mind,” Paige countered.

  Doug ignored the reference to his new fan club of one. “Did you call for a reason?”

  “Yeah,” Paige said. “I just wanted to know if Stanley showed up last night.” She covered her mouth to hide a yawn, then smiled tightly at Mr. Cowan. He frowned and went into his office.

  “Stanley came in around eleven, snored all night, and left at eight.” Doug sighed. “Any word from Hawthorn Hill?”