Sea Haven 02 - Spirit Bound

his decisions and he acted on them.
    “Seal the lid on with the acrylic cement,” Judith directed. “When you’re finished, there’s a tiny, predrilled hole in the side of the cell. Pump in the heavy mineral oil with the needle.” She indicated where. “Use the tiny set screw there, to close the hole after you’ve filled the cell with the oil.”
    Judith watched him work, her heart accelerating. She would have to look at his work soon and she was afraid of what she might see. She crossed to stand in front of the French doors, staring out at her garden. The plants always soothed her. She loved the many colored maples, shaping them into draping, graceful limbs hanging above the narrow ribbon of water running over rocks creating a small waterfall to feed the large koi pond on one end. A narrow bridge crossed the deepest section of water. Her favorite reading spot was located under one of the larger maple trees. Part of her wished she were out there now, in the cool night, sitting beside her koi pond with the wind on her face.
    “Come look,” he invited.
    Her heart leapt. Her eyes met his and she braced herself. Closed her eyes. Took a deep breath. There would be no turning back once she looked into his kaleidoscope. She would know him, know his true nature. And she’d probably be the only person in the world who would.
    She took the scope carefully into her hands and turned it around, glancing at him once before lifting it to her eye. Light spilled through the cell, illuminating the images, so that the seven-point system burst into life like a new constellation. Droplets of blood fell against a white snow, the movement flowing and graceful, as if she could see that long ago murder that had begun Stefan’s life.
    The scene inside the cell was mesmerizing, almost hypnotic and very intense, the dichroic glass shifting colors, dark and light, bloodred and black changing to lighter colors, just as Stefan shifted from skin to new skin, shedding the old and donning a new one to complete each assignment. Darkness settled and color burst through the darkness bringing crystal stars glittering through the various weapons and farm implements.
    Through the stream of weapons came unexpected things, long black hair falling like soft silk, tiny seashells tumbling through blue-green waves, an effect created by the dichroic glass the exact color of his eyes, an artist’s color palette, two gold rings locked together, a small pewter charm with joy on one side and the Japanese glyph on the other. A kimono lying amid a field of white star flowers.
    Judith’s heart clenched. Darkness streaked through the cell as she slowly turned it, shadows playing on the edges of the stars while blood drops on the snow fell like rain. This was Stefan’s world of hope, of pain and artistry. He was both a killer and a lover. He was a man of principle, with a hard code and tremendous discipline. Everything in his cell was about duality. He had two sides and the fall of silky hair, the shells, the farm tools, the double rings, even the Japanese symbols were his looking toward a future.
    This man was capable of love, of changing the direction of his life. And his need centered on one woman—the only woman. Her initials were in that scope. J.H. She saw them there along with the S.P. It was significant to her that he hadn’t put a T. V. for Thomas Vincent. For her—with her—he was giving his true self. He hadn’t tried to hide from her. He’d given her his past, his present and his hope for a future.
    Tears blurred her eyes. Everything about the scope appealed to her. It was entirely masculine and without show or embellishment, much like Stefan. It was a quiet declaration, a statement of intent and like his quiet decisions, she felt like she already knew him, knew that he would never turn back from his resolution. For him, it was written in stone, just as it was written here, in this tremendous gift he had given her.
    It must have been difficult for him to choose to be so vulnerable. He had to know that she would see his implacable nature. The warrior in him that was so deeply ingrained that it was impossible to ever stamp out. That edge of hardness she would come up against at times. The silky flow of midnight black hair against that terrible fall of snow and blood sent a spiral of heat curling through her. It was soft and sensuous and very unexpected—a statement of healing love. Her Stefan was every bit the artist as he was the