"Yes, Paris Harman," Jean answered, glancing at Marla, expecting an explanation for whatever Marla was talking about. "Why is that /interesting/?"
Marla just stood there smirking making Jean feel very uncomfortable. "I don't need this right now," Jean whispered. She just wanted her boyfriend. The day had been long and hard. All the new information was swirling around in her mind. Jean knew she was in no condition to decide what to do with it all. She wanted the comforting arms of her boyfriend around her, and his gentle kind voice telling her everything would be okay, comfort and love that only Paris could give her. Marla playing with her mind wasn't helping at all.
"Nothing. It doesn't matter. Phone's all yours." Marla handed Jean the kitchen phone. Then walked away. Jean watched her go. Then a few seconds later she heard the front door opening and two new voices - male voices. And Ivana in shock.
"Good god, Casey, what the hell happened back there?"
Jean put the phone back on the hook and crept closer to the kitchen door to get a glimpse of the new arrivals. One boy was tall and had very dark skin. His shirt was in tatters and he was covered in blood.
"I got those bastards as good as they got me," he was saying with surprising cheer.
"Casey you're a mess!" Ivana cried. "I'm going to get my healing stuff." She turned and hurried off into one of the bedrooms.
"And strangely enough Tuesday manages to come off with barely a scratch?" Marla's brassy voice said.
The other boy was small and thin and marble pale. Jean could only see the back of him and his arms. He had waist length shiny black hair and wore figure hugging leopard print pants. She couldn't see what kind of top he wore - his hair covered his back, "I did my own damage," he said."
"How's the girl?" Casey asked.
Marla shrugged. "In the kitchen calling her boyfriend. She's fine - dazed, confused and not up to much. We've told her everything."
Ivana appeared again. "Casey, come on."
Casey grumbled under his breath and stood up walking off to join Ivana. Jean turned back into the kitchen and called Paris's cell phone. Please pick up, please pick up, she prayed silently.
"Jean? Where are you? What happened?"
Jean's eyes closed as she heard his voice. The concern she sensed in his tone warmed her soul and made the horror of the evening disappear. "I'm okay," she answered him. "I was - well - a lot's happened."
"I saw the cabin. Who saved you?"
"Ivana, of all people. She and some friends of hers showed up. They know what I am. Now I know. I need you."
"I did a location spell to find out."
Jean smiled dreamily. "I'll tell Ivana you're coming."
"Actually, I'm outside the building."
"Oh. I'll come let you in then." Jean hung up, hesitating before she went into the living room. She didn't feel lie dealing with the two guys. Thankfully, when she went into the living room it appeared someone had picked up on that - the boys were gone, and so was Marla. Ivana was kneeling in front of a cubboard to the right of a drinks cabinet. She glanced over. "Call your boyfriend?" she asked.
Jean nodded. "He's waiting outside the building."
Ivana's eyebrows arched. "Go let him in, then?"
Jean started to go, then stopped. "Can you ask Marla not to be here when we come up? I'm getting the issue that Marla and my guy have - issues - and I really don't want any more crap to deal with tonight."
Ivana nodded. "Way ahead of you there. She'll be gone before you get back up."
Jean smiled in thanks and headed out the apartmentm trying to be as casual as she could. Once she was out the door she ran down the five flight of stairs.
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What did he think he was doing? Marla couldn't understand. What had made Paris Harman even consider falling in love with a Tempest? Last time he'd tried /that/ it hadn't gone so well. Marla smirked to herself. The elevator stopped in the aartment building's lobby. Marla crossed to the revolving doors and stepped out into the night,
She spotted a familiar blue Mercedes across the street. And getting out was a familiar irritatingly handsome boy with silvery blond hair and violet eyes. He saw her, but didn't move. Marla smirked and headed over to him.
"So you've found yourself a little lost Tempest to play with then."
Paris stared at her unblinking and nodded. "She has no clue."
"She does now. Tricky little bastard, aren't you?" Marla's head tilted.
Paris shrugged. Marla frowned at him. How could he be so calm? She could technically kill him right now and he would never know what hit him. So why wasn't she?
"Are you here for a reason, Marla?" Paris asked.
"She's completely in love with you."
Paris's smirk was cruel. "Like you were?" Marla slapped him, knocking his heard sharply to one side. He reached up and touched his cheek. "And you've never managed to get over it," he went one. "Nor have you been able to get your revenge. Tell Jean whatever you want. She'll never believe you in a million years."
Marla hated the confidence in Paris's voice. The handsome bastard was so charming, so smug, so irresistible. She was mentally kicking herself for falling for him. Even if it had only been six months ago.
"Who do you think she - or anyone one else would believe? You, considering your reputation ?"
Marla started to walk away, hands shoved in the pocket of her red coat, forcing back the tears threatening to spill. What the hell am I going to do? I hate it when Paris is right.