How to Live and Die in Crescent Rock (Crescent Rock Series)

by Bree Wolf

  “I’m so sorry,” Quinn said, feeling the sting of tears in the corner of her eyes. “And you don’t know how it happened?”

  He shook his head. “After her father died, she stayed alone in the house. My mother told me that she tried to convince her to come and stay with them but Joséphine refused.” A rueful smile came to his face. “Of course, she did. She was very head-strong. Always went her own way, no matter how dangerous. Especially for those times, she was kind of unladylike. But it made her special. Maybe it’s also what killed her.” Again he stopped, taking a deep breath to continue. “One day when my mother and sister went to visit her, they couldn’t find her. The maids told them that she had gone out the day before and hadn’t returned. My mother was furious with them for not sending word. They immediately told my father and he had a search party gathered. They scanned the countryside until the sun went down, but nothing. Then the next day they found her deep in the forest, miles from the house. She was dead. I don’t really know how … My parents refused to give me any details after I’d returned home. I always thought they were trying to protect me. That it had been too gruesome. That only imagining it would have been too awful. After a while I stopped asking.”

  Suddenly Quinn felt reminded of her own parents as well as Julia’s. When Amanda had died, they too had refused to give them details. It seemed two hundred years was nothing when it came to human behavior.

  “What about Arnaud?” Quinn asked carefully.

  “He was just as devastated,” Martin said, a shameful expression on his face. “But I … I couldn’t see it. All I could see was her. In danger. Alone. I blamed him. I thought he should have known.” His eyes that had been looking into the distance slowly focused, traveling to the amulet around her neck. “I thought he should have known,” he mumbled.

  “She was wearing the amulet?” Quinn asked, absent-mindedly brushing her thumb over the emerald stone.

  “I’ve never seen her without it,” Martin said. “Not once. But Arnaud swore he hadn’t sensed it. He begged me to believe him.” He lifted his eyes to look into hers. “But I didn’t. I blamed him.”

  “Do you believe him now?”

  Martin nodded. “Maybe she did take it off. Maybe just for a second. Maybe the chain broke. I don’t know. But I know that he loved her, more than anything. And if he had known, or even just suspected, he would have done anything in his power to get to her.”

  “You know, the stone … it only activates moments before something happens. Maybe there wasn’t time. Maybe—”

  “He would’ve told me,” Martin interrupted. “He promised he didn’t sense anything. The stone never changed. When the letter came, we were completely taken off guard.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Quinn whispered. “I can’t even imagine …”

  “It was the worst day of my life. Worse than the one I died. That was nothing in comparison. When she died, it broke my heart. When I died, it just stopped beating.” He shook his head as though trying to chase away the memories. “Would you mind?” he asked, holding out his hand, his eyes again on the amulet around her neck.

  “Not at all.” Taking it off, Quinn carefully placed the delicate silver chain with the stone, that had saved her life more than once, in his open palm. It was a strange feeling. Wrong somehow. It belonged around her neck, nowhere else.

  Chapter 39 – It Began with Trust

  Carefully balancing the amulet in his hands, Martin gently skimmed a finger over the stone. There were tears in his eyes. “It looks the same. I can’t …I can’t believe this thing is still here when she isn’t. It was so much a part of her.”

  “What happened to it after she died?” Quinn asked. “We don’t know …we haven’t been able to figure out how I got it.”

  “Arnaud gave it to me,” Martin said. “He said we were still family and that he would always look out for me and mine. He said he would come if we ever needed him.”

  And he did, Quinn thought, remembering the night her car would have gone off the road if it hadn’t been for him.

  “But I was too angry,” Martin continued, his eyes still staring at the small green stone. “I threw it in his face. I told him to leave and never come back. And he did. He left. But when he was gone, I found the amulet on the table. Even after what I’d said, he’d left it for me.” He glanced at her. “But I left it where it was. I didn’t take it with me. I don’t know what happened with it after I’d gone.”

  “You went back to the war?”

  Martin nodded. “I actually welcomed it. I felt so much rage – I needed to let it out. That sounds awful, I know. But it was better than thinking of how I’d failed her.” He took a deep breath. “I think a part of me was desperate to join her.”

  Listening to his words, Quinn wished she had known the head-strong, young woman they had loved so much, and even after two hundred years still did.

  “Do you remember how it happened?”

  He shook his head. “Everything’s a blur. I remember a sharp pain in the chest. It knocked me off my feet. I guess it was a bullet. And then … I’m not sure. There are a few images and sensations but not much. I remember screams and cries, the smell of gun powder and blood. I think I must have been delirious.”

  “And Arnaud? Where was he?”

  “He wasn’t there. When I returned, I asked to be reassigned. I couldn’t bare seeing him every day. I was afraid I’d hurt him. I guess a part of me did believe him after all.” His hand closed around the stone, holding onto it. “I never saw him again. Until last night.”

  “So, why did you come back? To me, it’s a little weird that you suddenly showed up after we tried to contact you.”

  He shrugged. “Honestly, I’m not sure. Suddenly I … I felt like I needed to. I can’t explain it. It was like I suddenly knew it was time to go home.”

  For a moment neither one of them said a word, each one absorbed in their own thoughts.

  “Do you think on some level you heard the call?” Quinn asked.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “But it was a call for the dead. Only they are supposed to hear it. At least that’s what Soo-Ji said.”

  A weak smile showed on his face. “Well, technically I did die.”

  “That’s right,” Quinn said, returning his smile. “Maybe it’s a loop hole. Although I don’t get it.”

  “If there’s one thing I’m sure of it’s that, as much as we want to, we will never see the world for what it is. Some things lie in the shadows. Maybe they’re not meant for us to see. Some things we just need to accept. Some things we just can’t fight. They are what they are.” Looking up at her, his face suddenly became apologetic. “Sorry, that was a bit gloomy.”

  “Don’t worry, a bit doom and gloom never hurt anyone,” Quinn assured him jokingly. “Well then, tell me. What have you been up to between back then and now?” She was curious how he’d spent the two hundred and odd years of his life.

  His face grew suddenly serious. “That’s a difficult question to answer.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you won’t like it.”

  Suddenly he seemed different. The good-natured, young man who had just now shared the most heartbreaking moments of his life with her was gone. In his place was someone she didn’t know. Someone who made her nerve endings tingle and send shills down her spine.

  “What do you mean?” she asked. As though an old instinct took over, Quinn held out her hand, asking for the return of her amulet.

  And only then, when seeing her intention he shook his head, his hand tightening around the amulet, did she know that once again her life was in danger.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, sincerity in his eyes. “But I have no choice.”

  Confused, Quinn shook her head. “What are you talking about? What is going on?”

  As she stood up, so did he.

  “I know what happened to you. Arnaud told me.” He shrugged. “But then again, I already knew. I just didn’t know th
at Arnaud was involved and that the connection with the amulets is the reason you’re still standing here.”

  Shocked, Quinn stared at him. “You? You’re the one who wants me dead? But why? What the hell did I do to you? We’re family. Damn it!”

  “And that is exactly why,” Martin said matter-of-factly. “Your connection to me is the reason.”

  “I don’t get it,” Quinn said, still shaking her head. Everything suddenly seemed so surreal. A part of her mind told her to think, while another refused to believe that this was happening.

  “I’m not the one who wants you dead,” Martin said. “I follow orders, just like the others. The only difference is that so far I’ve been spared from killing myself. I hire others to do the job. But since that has proved ineffective in this case, I was forced to come here and take care of it myself.”

  “You want to kill me?” Quinn asked, suddenly feeling the need to clarify the situation.

  “I have to.”

  “But why? Why me?” Suddenly her mind conjured up an image of the day she had tried to kill Arnaud. Glancing to the side into the hall, Quinn saw her purse with the stake in it lying on the sideboard.

  “For the same reason I was killed,” Martin said. “You’re a first-born of our family.”

  A frown creased her forehead. “You were killed on purpose? But you just told me you died in the war.” Realizing what she was saying, Quinn shook her head. “But you’re a vampire. You couldn’t have been killed by a bullet. You couldn’t have died in the war. Not like that. Otherwise, how …? Did someone save you? Make you a vampire so you would live?” She stared at him, looking for answers more than for anything else, unable to bear not knowing any longer.

  “I did die in the war, but it wasn’t an enemy soldier killing me simply because I was his enemy. I too was killed by someone who had been sent after me.”

  “But you are not dead?” Quinn objected insistently. Without giving a hint to warn him, she suddenly darted into the hall, grabbing her purse.

  Before she could take another breath though, Martin stood before her again. “Being around Arnaud trained you well, but it won’t save you,” he said. “This time he won’t come and you’re no match for me, you know that.”

  Quinn nodded. “I do. But explain to me why. You owe me that.”

  “What good will it do? You won’t be able to tell anyone?”

  With a hand in her purse, fishing for the stake, Quinn kept her eyes on his face. “I just want to know. I’ve spent so long not knowing, just wondering.”

  He nodded. “Fair enough. But to tell you the truth, I don’t even know everything. I was just told what I needed to know. And like I said, there are always things that remain in the shadows, things that we will never see.”

  “Fine, then tell me what you do know,” she hissed, feeling her anger rise and welcoming it. Remembering what he’d told her about losing Joséphine, Quinn had to agree. Anger was better than pain, but it was also better than fear.

  With the stake now in her hand, she leaned back against the sideboard, trying to seem passive, hoping he would let down his guard.

  Standing only two feet in front of her, Martin took a deep breath and for a moment closed his eyes. His shoulders slumped and he seemed incredibly tired, drained even, and for a second Quinn actually felt bad for him. Who knew what his life was like, had been like, that he had turned against his own family?

  But the second of empathy passed quickly, and when Martin opened his eyes and the first words left his lips, Quinn lunged forward, the stake ready in her hand.

  Whether Martin saw her coming or not, she didn’t know, but he didn’t move, didn’t brace himself or try to thwart the attack. He just stood there, completely passive, immobile, and with barely any effort she plunged the stake into his heart.

  The rational part of her mind observed that this was already her third time staking a vampire. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever get used to it though, especially now that it was someone she had started to care about.

  With tears in her eyes, Quinn looked at him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, remembering how Muddy and Blondie had turned to dust.

  Unlike the others, Martin’s eyes didn’t fly open in shock though. His mouth didn’t stand open in surprise and his hands didn’t clutch at the stake in a desperate and futile attempt to prevent his demise.

  He just stood there, stake in his chest, with eyes so weary that once again Quinn felt for him. The ghost of a sad smile began to curl his lips as he looked at her. “You are so much like her,” he whispered.

  Slowly, the reality before her eyes reached Quinn’s mind and she shook her head. “I don’t understand,” she stammered. “You should be dead. Why …? It’s the right kind of wood. It should … I know it works. It did before. Why aren’t you dead?”

  Again he smiled at her, like a teacher indulging his student. “The world is not always as it seems. Sometimes that’s a hard lesson to learn.”

  Now it was her staring at him in open-mouthed astonishment. “You’re not a vampire,” Quinn whispered, taking a step backward until she felt the sideboard behind her, limiting her room of retreat.

  Shaking his head, Martin took hold of the stake and pulled it out. “I am not.” The wound closed instantly. There was no blood.

  “But you said—”

  “I did not,” he interrupted. “You simply assumed.”

  Suddenly there was a knock on the door.

  Instantly, Martin stood before her, a hand clasped over her mouth, his eyes warning her not to say a word.

  Quinn stood trapped, unable to move, as the knocking came again. Then she heard Julia’s voice calling her name.

  “If I have to, I will take her life as well,” Martin whispered in her ear.

  Without a choice, Quinn remained quiet, especially knowing that Julia wasn’t alone. Luke was with her.

  A moment later, the phone in the kitchen rang, shortly followed by the cell phone in her purse three feet from her on the floor.

  Minutes passed until Julia finally gave up and they heard her car leave the driveway and head down the road toward town center.

  “Good choice,” Martin said, taking his hand off her mouth and stepping back. “I would’ve hated to hurt her.”

  “But you don’t mind hurting me?” Quinn asked, a sickening feeling of betrayal settling in her stomach.

  “I do,” Martin said and again he looked sincere. “But it’s the lesser of two evils.”

  Leaning back, Quinn’s eyes glided over him. “What are you? A werewolf?”

  A faint grin flashed over his face. “There are many creatures between heaven and earth, most of whom you’ve never heard of.”

  Her eyes narrowed as a new wave of anger welled up. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  Another rueful smile came to him. “So much like her,” he whispered.

  “Tell me,” Quinn snapped.

  For a moment Martin just looked at her, as though he had changed his mind about giving her the answers she demanded. When he finally spoke, he kept his eyes on her face, waiting. “I’m an immortal.”

  “An immortal?” Quinn repeated, a frown appearing on her forehead. “What does that mean? Vampires are immortal, aren’t they? I don’t really know about werewolves but—”

  “In a way, they are immortal, yes,” Martin cut in. “But they are not immortals.”

  Quinn shook her head. “Okay, you lost me. Where’s the difference?”

  His eyes focused on hers as he said, “They can die.” A hint of envy came to his voice. “They might not have a natural death, but they can be killed. Immortals cannot. They are truly immortal, hence the name.”

  “Okay,” Quinn said, eying him curiously. “There is no way I could kill you? Not a stake through the heart? Silver bullets? Beheading? Nothing?”

  Martin shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

  “How is that even possible?” Quinn wondered, shaking her head in disbelief.
“I mean it’s more than just a little unfair.” She looked him up and down. “So, you have no weaknesses or anything?”

  Again Martin shook his head.

  “Considering you’re unkillable, I guess it’s no surprise you’re so forthcoming about what you are,” Quinn said, unsure how to handle the situation. Martin wanted to kill her and yet she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. “Okay then, you’re an immortal. Good for you … or maybe not. But … but why would you want to kill me?”

  “Because you might be too.”

  Her eyes flew open. “What? No, no, no, I’m human. Completely and entirely.”

  “You are now,” he said, nodding. “As I once was. Only when you die, when your human life ends, is it revealed if there is more to you.”

  “And if there’s not?” she asked, not sure if she wanted to know the answer.

  He shrugged. “Then you remain dead.”

  In her mind Quinn saw all the names of her relatives, who had died before their time, in accidents that hadn’t been accidents – that much was clear by now. They all had remained dead. The odds didn’t seem to be in favor of immortality.

  “Then why not wait until I die? Naturally, I mean,” Quinn suggested, not wanting to share her relatives’ fate. “I mean it doesn’t seem to happen a lot. Mostly people stay dead, don’t they?”

  Martin nodded. “That’s true. But I’m afraid it only works, when it is an unnatural cause of death. It’s about balance. To receive a gift, one must be willing to make sacrifices and risk the most valuable thing one has.”

  “But I don’t want to die,” Quinn said vehemently. “Not now. And I sure don’t want to be an immortal. Before there was a price on my head, I actually enjoyed being a meekly human, and I really want to go back to that.”

  “I’m afraid, being who you are, that is not possible,” Martin said, and he seemed genuinely sorry. “I have no choice. I must do as I am ordered or the consequences will be far worse.”