Lionel shot his brother a dangerous look.
“You’ve met the new Maria. The one you never thought you could have,” Jeb whispered, trying to smile. His lips still looked shriveled and taught.
Lionel saw the angelic face of young Maria Monteleone, unchanged by years of mortal decay. He could almost taste her.
“That one, Brother. The one you denied yourself once. Who is she?”
“I won’t speak of it.”
“Tell me. If I can feel it in my weakened condition, something is important there.”
Finally, Lionel resigned himself to divulge his secret. “She’s a Dominichelli, but Maria’s a many times great grandmother, so she has Monteleone blood in her veins on her mother’s side. I think it’s her appearance that has me so haunted.”
“Haunted? No, Brother. It isn’t a haunting you feel.”
“Stop it, Jeb. I’ve put it out of my mind.”
“Like Hell you have. I can feel her all over your insides, Lionel. You carry her scent. Any preternatural being could feel it as well.”
Lionel hadn’t thought he was thinking that transparently.
“Are you going to allow this evil salesman to steal your right to a life of devoted love?”
“It’s blasphemy. We won’t discuss it any longer.”
“No. Make it the reason to survive, Lionel. You’d die to protect Marcus, and Paolo and the wives and children—Lucius and his progeny to come. But her? She is your reason to live.”
The words hit Lionel in the gut and forced him to sit down hard. He’d been steeling his chest, holding back any emotion, but now the full import of his regret, the years of mourning one woman only to be given a chance with another, became too heavy to bear. He’d only shed tears twice in his life. The first time was when young Maria told him she was going to remain mortal, but that she wanted him as her protector. She had said she did not have any right to ask it of him. He’d cried that night.
The second time was as the seconds of her life slipped away under the stars as he held her frail body before it left on its journey to her Heaven. If she’d but asked him, he’d have given her immortality, but that wasn’t her wish. She chose to spend eternity with her husband who had gone before her. Lionel remembered the shock and pain of understanding he had not been chosen.
The hot tears that coursed down his cheeks were heavy, but they fell silently like snow.
Jeb’s face appeared in front of him, waking him from his morose dreams. “I said live, Lionel. Think—no, feel—the will to live. To find her and to protect her.”
As Lionel studied his brother’s eyes, he understood that love was stronger than duty or honor. Or sacrifice. He no longer felt it was a betrayal he’d feel guilty over.
As if they’d together conjured it from thin air, several young women covered from head to toe in traditional nomadic garb appeared. Between them there were whispers of an unfamiliar language using a series of tongue clicks. A brown bony hand extended through the bars, dropping several large pieces of cloth at their feet. Jeb sniffed the fabric, wrapping it around his arm, then covering his head. He began swathing his body with more fabric given by other hands.
“Do it, brother,” Jeb whispered. “Cover yourself.”
One of the women demonstrated the wrapping, extending her arms through the silver to adjust and secure fabric covering their faces everywhere except for their eyes. They were encouraged to stand. Lionel held Jeb’s waist, looking above his head and hearing a metal clanging sound as the cage was lifted several feet, enough so that he could bend and get free, pulling Jeb behind him across the floor.
The women whispered and motioned for them to follow.
An opening was made to the outside. Lionel could see the pink dawn fast approaching, and he shook his head. Jeb’s body had already tensed up, his new skin becoming sensitive to the light penetrating the fabric. Lionel also felt burning begin at the edges of his eyes where there was no protection.
A cloth was placed over his head, but the pain seemed to come from his insides out as his flesh simmered, sending smoke to his nostrils and making him cough dizzyingly. He felt the press of a woman’s body against his and then another, clawing and clutching at him, constricting his movements.
“Jeb,” he whispered, unable to see.
“You must trace us home. I will help all I can. I’m—” Jeb’s voice ended in a deep muffled moan sounding like he was biting his own arm to keep from screaming.
Lionel again felt the press of bodies and then the firm hand of his brother. He mentally reached low into his own chest and felt his heart muscle expand to near bursting, matching his conscious intention and an inner resolve he’d never felt before. The strength and power of his ancient species filled him.
He bit his lip, tasting blood, and held his breath as young Phoebe’s face came to him. He knew he’d be losing consciousness within seconds but concentrated on getting as close to her as possible. If he could build momentum, this force might complete his journey home while unconscious.
In a ball of fire, while encumbered by all the attachments of those who clung to him, he hurled through the sky like a comet.
His strength gave out mere seconds later as he fell into a pool of water, which turned to steam all around him. The weight of the fabric pulled him down as he desperately struggled for air. He began shedding the arms and legs that had hold of him, removing everything that was an impediment. Beneath the water, he could hear his brother scream. He rolled over, dragging Jeb with him until he felt land beneath his feet.
The pink sky was now turning brighter and becoming blue as his skin continued to combust where it came in contact with the light. Olive branches overhead still smoldered with fire. Jeb was dead weight to him. In his weakened condition he could not drag his brother out of the bright light and into shade. He felt skin slough off and burn his palms as he tried.
Dark splotches formed in front of his eyes just before he felt arms pull him under the shoulders and then lift him into a dark box smelling of diesel. He suddenly realized he was in a lorry or van of some kind. The gracious metal clanging doors at last put him into complete darkness.
He hung onto his consciousness long enough to hear someone make the comment, “It’s Jeb. He’s brought Jeb back from the dead.”
LIONEL WOKE TO the awful acrid smell of burning flesh. His flesh. He opened his eyes and could not see a thing. His fingers explored his face and confirmed he’d not lost his eyes. His skin was slippery, covered in salve, which stung and made him tear up.
Carefully, he inhaled as deeply as he could, then let the air out slowly. Judging how much control he had with his own breathing, he was satisfied he was going to survive.
His preternatural sight was coming back, and he discovered he was in his own room, on the Monteleone estate in Tuscany. He could not remember exactly how he’d gotten there, but he was grateful for the first aid he’d received by loving hands.
He swung his legs off the platform bed and felt the cool wooden floor on his bare feet. One arm and shoulder were wrapped in a tight bandage steeped in something that smelled as terrible as the burning flesh. As he stood, his balance returned, and his thigh muscles began to work holding up his solid frame. However long he’d spent in the early morning light had apparently not burned him all the way to the bone. But he still hurt all over.
Hearing coughing in the next room, he pushed aside his bedroom door and entered their tiny living room. Jeb’s room was occupied at last. He saw light from under the door and burst through.
Paolo and Marcus were shaken at the sudden action and stood at once. By the light of the single candle flame he could see his brother’s frail frame. The bones of his chest rose and fell as Jeb was taking air on his own. His face was a bloody mess of bandages and peeling skin. All the hair had been burned off his head.
Lionel began to sway as the room spun out of control. Darkness overtook him as he felt himself fall to the floor.
Because the back of his
head hurt, he knew he was not yet dead.
Chapter 10
THE ENTIRE VILLAGE was abuzz with news that Lionel had returned and brought Jeb with him. Like Lazarus being raised from the dead, the next several days were filled with stories of Lionel’s heroics.
Phoebe sat with Hugh in the kitchen while she ate her late supper. He’d been talking non-stop. He was so proud of his brother. It was as if the family had needed some good news and clung to every detail.
“So when will he be fully recovered?” she asked.
“He’s recovered now! He’s tending to Jeb, but my brothers are starting to argue, which is always a good sign.”
Phoebe wondered why, if he was well, Lionel didn’t come by the house or check in with Hugh at the little room prepared for her protectors. She hoped she wasn’t mistaken. She was sure he’d want to see her.
“Maybe I’ll bring him some flowers,” she whispered, drifting off into a dreamlike state.
Hugh scrunched up his face like a prune. “Lionel? Flowers?”
“For good health. For speedy recovery.”
“If you want that, bring him salve.”
“Chicken soup?”
“Phoebe, what’s gotten into you? There is nothing you can do. He’ll be going back to California with Marcus and Paolo soon, anyway. I’m sure they’ll have him busy getting ready for the trip.”
She decided she’d waited too long. “Take me there, tonight.”
“I’m not allowed. Your parents would never permit that.”
“I want to thank him. I never got to properly thank him for my rescue.”
“No.” Hugh was hugging himself as if cold. “That’s a very bad idea. Besides, he was protecting Lucius. Disposing of wayward dark coven vamps, well, we do that all the time. Happening more and more these days.”
“Hugh, trace me there.”
“That’s also forbidden. You heard the doctor’s orders. You’re not even allowed outside.”
“But I’m completely well. I’m eating solid food. I feel—” She suddenly realized her cheeks were flushed and her nipples were once again tender. “I won’t be outside. You’ll trace me from inside this kitchen to inside your home.”
“Not our home.”
“The home you were given for your stay.”
Hugh cracked his neck and looked upstairs. “Your parents are asleep?”
“They’ve retired, but I have no idea. We won’t be long. Just a quick trip there, and a quick trip back again before anyone misses us.”
Hugh was still wrestling with his conscience. Phoebe grabbed his upper arms and pleaded. “Please. A favor for me. One little favor.” She held up her thumb and forefinger to demonstrate just how little the favor was. Her smile was warming Hugh’s expression.
“I’m going to regret this. I know it for certain.”
“Take me,” Phoebe sighed, closing her eyes and holding out her arms. She heard Hugh’s laughter and spared a glance through her squint.
“Not that way. Here, put your arms around me like we were dancing.”
“Which reminds me. Samuel and I are taking dancing lessons. I want you to come as well.”
“No. Absolutely not. That’s out of the question. As a matter of fact—”
“Okay, okay, no dancing lessons. Let’s go.”
She wrapped her arms around Hugh’s waist and closed her eyes, leaning her head against his chest just beneath his jawline.
The sensation was not unlike being in an elevator. When she opened her eyes, the room was so dark she stumbled into Hugh, who had taken her hand and was leading her into Jeb’s bedroom.
Lionel was seated on the bed, placing bandages against Jeb’s naked body. His fingers were covered in the greenish salve that had worked so well on her wound. He turned to face her, and she saw him tense, slamming his mouth shut.
“Get her out of here,” Lionel shouted. “Right now.”
“I know, I know. But the woman is damned convincing. Sorry, I’ll just—”
“I came to say thank you to my protector. To the one who helped save my life.”
Everyone was stunned until Jeb swore and threw a blanket over his hard-on. “Dammit. I don’t want anyone seeing me until I stop looking like a freak!”
Phoebe dropped Hugh’s hand and put a palm to her mouth. Tufts of hair were struggling to regrow in patches all over Jeb’s scalp. His left arm was missing a forearm and one of his bloody toes was missing.
Something smelled awful, a new sensation for her. She wrinkled up her nose. “Your flesh. When it burns, it smells like fish!”
Jeb began swearing.
Lionel was on her in a flash, closing the door behind him to give his brother privacy. He grabbed her arm and shook her. The pain he’d inflicted was sudden and it scared her. She reflexively slapped him across the face and watched as his eyes flared in anger.
She was angry too. She defiantly yanked herself free from his grip. “You’re hurting me. Stop it and let me talk to you.”
Lionel turned his back to her. Hugh shrugged, unable to find words.
Phoebe found the courage to step closer to the hulking dark protector and placed her hand on his shoulder blade through the material of his shirt. “Lionel, I mean you no harm. I only wanted to say thank you. I’m happy that your family is reunited.” She paused, her hand still rubbing his back. “F-For some reason, I was called to see you.”
Lionel whipped around, and her hand was left in midair. Until Lionel clasped it in both of his.
“Thank you, dear lady.” His eyes were kind, like melted pools of chocolate. She felt the pulse of his heartbeat strong and increasing in speed. She tried to place her palm up to his cheek, but he stopped her.
“It is enough that you come here in person to say thank you.”
“Phoebe. Say my name. Phoebe.”
He stumbled, at first scanning the ground. “Phoebe,” he whispered.
“Lionel,” she returned. “Will you come visit with me tomorrow night?”
“I’m not sure that’s wise.”
“But will you anyway?” She was transfixed by his gentle aura enveloping her like a protective shield. Their fingers had become entwined. As she drank from his eyes, she heard Hugh swear out of the shadows in the corner.
“I-I…”
“Just say yes. Just come for a visit. It’s all I’ll ask of you tonight. Promise me.” She brought his palm to her cheek and drew the answer from him.
“Yes. I’ll be there at seven.”
HUGH TRACED THEM back to the warm kitchen. “I need a drink.”
Phoebe smiled, enjoying the way her skin tingled where Lionel had touched her. She retrieved two goblets from the dining room and poured Hugh a whiskey from her father’s rare reserve collection. Then she poured another one for herself.
Hugh downed the liquid and carefully set the crystal glass on the counter. “Not a word. Not to anyone. Not your brothers, your mother or father, not the priest, or to Samuel.”
Phoebe was enjoying his squirming. Her heart was filled with joy.
“No worries, Hugh,” she said as she touched his cheek.
“Don’t.” Hugh batted her hand down. “I don’t want to be seen anywhere when you touch me, unless I’m lifting you out of a wagon or carriage, or—” He began pacing. “I will rot in Hell for this. I can feel it as sure as I’m standing here.”
“Hugh, you only did what I requested. And see, I’m safe. You got me back home safe and sound. No worries. All is forgotten, and no one needs to know.”
“But I’ll know. And Jeb knows what I did as well. I’m going to be discharged from all my duties. I’ve betrayed the family trust.”
“Don’t be silly.” She ran to the dining room and came back with the whiskey carafe. “More?”
“No. And you shouldn’t, either.”
“I have to, or I won’t sleep.”
“Phoebe,” Hugh blurted out as he watched her pour another full glass of spirit. “You have to get to bed before anyone in
the house discovers you’re up. If they ask questions, I won’t be able to lie. You know this.”
“I do, and I love you for it,” she said over her shoulder, feeling the warm glow of the whiskey in her stomach.
“Don’t say that. This is no joke.”
“Hugh, nothing you can tell me tonight will dampen my mood. I feel positively ancient. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.” She ran towards him, and he shrank away, pushing his hands out in front for protection.
“Don’t touch me, Phoebe. I mean it.” She could see that Hugh was at a near-panic state.
With her hands on her hips she gave him a stern warning. “I need to talk to him about a couple of things, Hugh. It would have been a tragedy if he left for California without that discussion. That was the urgency. I had to speak to him before he left. That’s not so unusual, is it?”
Hugh didn’t want to look at her, but he acknowledged her words and even nodded his agreement. “That’s the way we’ll leave it. Goddammit, you’re stubborn!”
His face was lined with worry. She wished she could convince him that all would be well. Now that she’d confirmed some of her deepest secrets, all would be well.
It was going to be a bumpy ride, but it wasn’t going to take a hundred years, or more, either.
“I’ll leave you the bottle while I get to bed. Up to you what happens next. But, from the bottom of my heart, thank you, Hugh.” She pressed her palms together as if in prayer, backed out of the room, then danced up the stairs, and shut her door.
Chapter 11
LIONEL HAD TAKEN his shirt off and changed it three times before he removed the tie he had intended to wear and threw it on his bed, leaving his collar open, unbuttoned at the top. He already felt like he had a garrote around his neck.
Jeb leaned against his doorway, stabilizing his frame on a metal crutch.
“Kinda helps you appreciate what Paolo and Marcus went through when they did their ceremony,” Jeb whispered.
Lionel turned on him. “There’s no fuckin’ ceremony. And in about two seconds there will be no meet and greet, either.”
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