by I. T. Lucas
Maybe he’d thought he was protecting her?
Or maybe he’d checked despite what he’d told her and found out that something had happened to Wendy?
As the panicky sensation threatened to steal her air again, Margaret tightened her grip on Bowen’s hand. “Can you help me find out about my daughter?”
He hesitated. “I have a cousin who is an expert on those things. I can call him.”
“Can you do it now?”
His eyes were full of pity as he looked at her. “To call him, I will have to let you out of my arms, and you are shaking like a leaf.”
She hadn’t been aware of how cold she was until he’d pointed it out. “I don’t know why I’m so cold.”
“Telling me your story was emotionally draining, and it has awakened old fears. You are in a system overload.” He caressed her arm. “Close your eyes and rest your head on my chest.”
His voice was so soothing, so compassionate.
She did as he instructed. “How come you don’t hate me for what I did?”
“Why would I hate you? You were a victim. How old were you when your daughter was born?”
“I had just turned nineteen.”
“You were still a child yourself, alone, abused, and frightened.” His voice sounded as if it was coming down a tunnel, but his words eased some of the heaviness in Margaret’s heart.
Heaving out a sigh, she drifted away, pieces of their conversation floating disjointed in her exhausted mind.
How had Bowen known that she’d left eighteen years ago? Had she told him that? Margaret couldn’t remember, and as cognition faded, focusing on any one thought became impossible.
67
Bowen
When Margaret’s breathing had slowed and deepened, Bowen pushed to his feet with her in his arms and gently laid her on the couch. Remembering that she’d been cold, he covered her with the throw blanket before heading out to the front porch.
He needed a moment to breathe some fresh air and calm the fury her story had evoked. She’d been victimized for years, first by her husband, who’d abused her and robbed her of her child, and then by Emmett, who’d lied to her and compelled her to panic every time she thought about finding out what happened to her daughter.
The cult leader’s motives might have been benevolent if he’d truly believed that he was protecting Margaret and his community from her psychotic husband. Or, they might have been malevolent, meant to keep Margaret from leaving.
Although why he had deemed her so important was unclear. She didn’t have any money, and her work for the community could have been done by others.
Had her blood been a delicacy he hadn’t wanted to lose?
Leon had told him that Emmett claimed Eleanor’s blood was particularly tasty and potent. Perhaps that was also true of Dormants’ blood?
It hit him then. If Margaret was Wendy’s mother, she was a confirmed Dormant. Eleanor had been right about her.
Pulling out his phone, he dialed her number.
“Bowen, what a nice surprise,” Eleanor answered. “Are you calling to congratulate me on my promotion?”
“What promotion?”
“Kian put Peter and me in charge of guarding Emmett. We’ve temporarily moved to the keep.”
He couldn’t care less who was guarding the guy, but he didn’t want to hurt Eleanor’s feelings by ignoring her unexpected promotion. It must be a big deal for her.
“Congratulations. How did that come about?”
“It was Kri’s idea. She said that Emmett might tell me things he wouldn’t tell the guys. I suggested it to Kian, and he liked the idea. I’m now officially a Guardian in training, including the salary that comes with the position.”
“I’m happy for you. How is it going with Emmett so far?”
“I’ve only seen him twice. Once yesterday and once today. I’m taking it slow, so it won’t be too obvious.”
“What exactly are you planning to do? Seduce him?”
“It’s an option.”
She’d tried to sound nonchalant, but Bowen detected the nervous undertone. “That’s going above and beyond your job description.”
“I know. If I do that, it would be for me, not for the job.”
“Then I wish you good luck. I have a question for you.”
“Ask, and I shall answer.”
“Do you know Wendy’s last name?”
“Yeah, it’s Miller. Why?”
Should he tell her before he told Wendy and Margaret? It didn’t feel right, but he needed a woman’s perspective and advice on how to handle the situation.
“I think that Margaret is her mother.”
There was a long moment of silence, and then Eleanor huffed out a breath. “Is her last name Miller?”
“It was before she had it changed, and she has a daughter named Wendy who she left behind with her abusive husband.”
“Did you tell her your suspicion?”
“No, not yet. I wanted to make sure first.”
“Good. Miller is a very common name, and so are Wendy and Margaret. It might be a coincidence. Before we raise their hopes, we need to make sure.”
“How?”
“Blood test. Bridget already has Wendy’s, and if she needs a fresh sample, she can make up an excuse for why she needs it. Julian or Gertrude can go to the cabin and collect Margaret’s.”
“Were you involved in Wendy’s recruitment?”
“No, Simmons recruited her himself. Why?”
“Do you know her father’s given name?”
“It was in her file, but I don’t remember. Maybe Jin or Jacki know, but I doubt it. Wendy was a loner, and she didn’t interact with the other trainees. But maybe Richard knows. He was her and Vlad’s roommate until he moved in with Stella.”
“I’ll call him. If he says that the father’s name is Roger, I think that’s proof enough.”
“Probably. But there is still a small chance that there is another Miller family that has a Margaret, a Roger, and a Wendy.”
“Perhaps, but given that we suspect Margaret is a Dormant, the chance of coincidence is reduced to practically zero.”
“Probably, but we don’t know whether Margaret is a Dormant for sure. A blood test will be conclusive proof that she is Wendy’s mother, and then you can bring her to the village without having to go through all that nonsense of inducing her and waiting to see if she turns.”
“You are talking about a DNA test, and those take time. I need to know as soon as possible.”
Eleanor sighed. “Do they look alike?”
“Not enough. They have the same eyes and smile, and the same hair color, but Margaret is tall and slim.”
“That’s not good enough. You need at least one more piece of information that can be verified.”
“Like an address. Provided that her father didn’t move, and if he did, that Wendy knows the old one.”
“Did Margaret tell you where she’s from?”
“I didn’t ask. Right now she’s asleep after I helped her relax with a little thrall.” He ran a hand over the back of his head. “It was an emotionally draining experience for her.”
“I bet. If I remember correctly, Wendy is from Milwaukee, but I’m not sure. I can ask her, make some excuse about why I need to know.”
“I’ll just call Vlad. I don’t know why I didn’t think of calling him first. Wendy is working at the café, so it’s not likely that she will overhear the conversation.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks. And do me a favor, don’t tell anyone until Wendy and Margaret are told.”
“Obviously.”
68
Vlad
Vlad was nursing his second beer at the airport bar when his phone rang.
“Wendy again?” Richard asked.
Vlad frowned at the screen. “It’s Bowen.” He accepted the call. “This is Vlad. Did you dial my number by mistake?”
“No mistake. I need to talk to you. Are you anywhere ne
ar Wendy?”
“No. Why?”
Vlad didn’t elaborate on where he was at the moment. The less people knew about his and Richard’s excursion, the better. He’d promised Richard to keep it confidential.
“I think that I found her mother, but I want to make sure before I tell either of them and raise their hopes for nothing. I need us to compare notes, so to speak.”
Richard arched a brow. “I’ll be damned.”
Vlad lifted his face heavenward, wondering about the Fates’ twisted sense of humor. Couldn’t Bowen have called him a day earlier? He wouldn’t have gone to pay Roger a visit and would have been spared from looking into the guy’s ugly memories. Then again, his visit ensured that Roger Miller never hurt anyone again, so it wasn’t a complete waste of time. Besides, Bowen could be wrong.
“What do you want to know?”
“Wendy’s parents’ names.”
“Margaret and Roger Miller.”
The Guardian let out a breath. “That’s a match. Where is Wendy from originally?”
“Milwaukee.”
“That’s what Eleanor thought. I haven’t asked Margaret yet, but I will when she wakes up.”
“How did you meet her?”
“Do you know about the Safe Haven Cult rescue mission?”
“Yeah, the cult leader kidnapped a Guardian, and a bunch of you went there and rescued him.”
“Correct. But do you know why the Guardian was there in the first place?”
“Something about an heiress that Turner was hired to retrieve. I don’t know all the details.”
“The heiress's name is Anastasia, and she turned out to be a Dormant and has already transitioned. She didn’t go to the village yet because she wanted to stay with her best friend Margaret, who’s recuperating in the cabin from an injury she sustained during our rescue mission.”
“Our Cabin? The one Wendy and I stayed in?”
“One and the same.”
“So, Wendy’s mother was in the cult all these years?”
“It’s a long story, but her husband abused her and then kicked her out and told her that if he saw her again, he would kill her. She ran to Safe Haven, the cult leader took her in and nursed her back to health. What he also did, though, was to compel her to fear looking for any information about her daughter. She suffered a panic attack when I suggested a simple internet search. She actually couldn’t breathe.”
Vlad shook his head. The Fates weaved a complex tapestry. He just wished he knew what their end goal was.
“How did you connect the dots?”
“From the very first moment, Margaret seemed familiar to me. I didn’t know why until she told me her story about leaving a daughter with her abusive husband. Everything clicked into place the moment she told me that her daughter’s name was Wendy. I just needed to make absolutely sure before I told Margaret that her daughter was safe and that she could see her today if she wanted.”
“I can give you their home address. Roger Miller hasn’t moved since Wendy was a baby. If Margaret gives you the same address, then that’s the final proof.”
“That’s great news. Eleanor suggested we have them both take a blood test, but those things take time, and I’m running out.”
“Why? What’s the rush?”
“Margaret wants to return to Safe Haven tomorrow. But if she’s indeed Wendy’s mom, then she’s a confirmed Dormant, and I can tell her everything and bring her to the village.”
Finally, Vlad connected the dots. He’d been too distraught over the earlier interaction with Wendy’s father to pick up the clues, but Bowen’s comment about bringing Margaret to the village had been like a light beam through the haze.
“Is she your one?”
“I think so.”
Vlad chuckled. “Welcome to the family, Bowen. I’ve always liked you.”
“Same here, kid. Text me that address, will you? And also a picture of Wendy, or even better, the two of you together. If Margaret confirms the address, I want to be able to show her the beautiful, happy woman Wendy is today. And since a lot of it is thanks to her mate, Margaret should see a picture of her son-in-law as well.”
Vlad wasn’t sure about that. He wasn’t what a human mother pictured as husband material for her daughter, but maybe it would be better if she was prepared.
“I will send the address and the pictures as soon as we end the call. Let me know if she confirms the address and it’s conclusive. I would like to tell Wendy the good news.”
There was a brief moment of silence before Bowen said, “Don’t tell her yet. I have a feeling that it will be a shock for Margaret, and she will need some time before she’ll be able to face Wendy.”
Vlad looked at Richard, who nodded sagely, agreeing with Bowen.
“I’ll wait until you tell me it’s okay.”
“Thank you.”
“I need to thank you. Earlier today, I thought that Wendy’s mother would never be found. The Fates have a strange sense of humor proving me wrong only a couple of hours later.”
“Indeed. Sometimes I think that they push us around like chess pieces on a board and having free will is just an illusion.”
69
Margaret
“Margaret.” A warm hand caressed her arm. “I need you to wake up for a moment.”
She opened her eyes to Bowen’s handsome face hovering a few inches above hers. “I’m awake.” She tried to sit up, but her head hurt and she put it back down.
While she slept, Bowen had brought her a pillow from her bedroom and covered her with a blanket. He was still taking care of her, even after learning what a rotten person she was.
“I’ll make you coffee, but first, I need to ask you something.”
At that point, she had no more secrets to hide. She’d laid herself bare for him, expecting him to recoil with disgust, but he was still there, still looking at her with soft eyes that seemed just a little troubled.
“What do you need?”
“Do you remember the address of the house you shared with your ex?”
How could she forget?
“Why do you need to know that?”
“I just do.”
She put a hand on his forearm. “You can’t go kill Roger. As bad as he is, Wendy doesn’t have anyone else.”
“That’s not why I need the address.”
She looked at him skeptically. “I saw your eyes when I told you what he’d done to me. You saw red. I know that you are a soldier, and that you’ve seen combat. You’re a good man, a protector, and it’s an instinct for you to take out the bad guys.”
“I swear on my honor that I don’t need the address so I could go kill your ex.”
She had a feeling that honor meant a lot to Bowen. He wouldn’t swear on it in vain. But just in case, she would start with the street name and omit the house number. “It was on West Tesch Avenue in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. But he might have moved since then.”
“He didn’t.” Bowen sat next to her on the couch. “I have something important to tell you.”
“What is it?” She pushed up, leaning against the armrest.
Bowen opened his mouth to answer when the door opened, and Ana came in with Leon.
“Are we interrupting in the middle of something?” Ana asked.
Bowen nodded. “Can you give us a few more minutes?”
“I’ll just grab a couple of water bottles from the fridge.” Leon headed to the kitchen.
“Get two for Margaret and me as well.”
“No problem.”
As Leon tossed him the two bottles on his way out, Margaret was sure at least one of them would hit her, but Bowen caught both like a circus performer.
When the door closed behind the two, he uncapped one bottle and handed it to her, then did the same for his.
“What were you going to tell me?” She took a sip.
“Wendy is no longer with Roger. She is safe and sound in our village, mated to one of my cousins. I needed the address to
confirm that you are really the mother of the Wendy I know.” He lifted his phone and showed her a text message from someone named Vlad.
She must be still sleeping, and this was a dream.
Margaret lifted the bottle and took another sip. If it was a dream, it was damn realistic. “Can you pinch me? I must be dreaming because that's just impossible.”
He sighed. “It’s fate. Do you want to see her picture?”
Margaret swallowed, her throat suddenly dry even though she’d just drunk water. “Yes, please,” she whispered.
He tapped on his phone and handed it to her. “This is Wendy today.”
Tears started streaming down Margaret’s cheeks. The beautiful, smiling young woman in the picture was her Wendy. She had absolutely no doubt. Wendy was a perfect mix of her and Roger, who had been as handsome on the outside as he was twisted on the inside.
“She’s perfect.”
“I agree.”
“Do you know her?”
“Quite well. She and her mate stayed in this very cabin with Leon and me.”
Her eyes widened. “They were the couple you guarded?”
He nodded. “They found love here. Just like Anastasia and Leon.” He wiped away her tears with his thumbs. “And just as we did.”
“Knowing what I did, how can you love me?”
“What you told me didn’t change anything. I feel the same as I did this morning and as I felt the day before, and the one before that. And now that I know your story and how the threads of our lives were weaved into one tapestry, it is clear to me that the Fates have been planning this for a very long time.” He took her hand and kissed it. “We belong together.”
70
Bowen
It must have been too much to process, and Margaret just fell apart. Sobbing uncontrollably, she pushed at his chest, and when he yielded, she flung both legs around and hopped on her one good leg toward the bedroom, nearly falling on her face if not for Bowen’s quick reflexes.