by Bree Wolf
“What do you mean being who I am? What’s so damn special about me? I’m just a bitchy small-town cheerleader.”
“It’s the McPherson line,” he explained. If it weren’t for the impending death hanging over her head, Quinn would’ve actually enjoyed their conversation. “It’s hereditary.”
“What? It only affects people of our family?”
“Not just ours,” he said. “But yes, it is limited to certain families. To the descendants of—” He broke off.
“The descendants of whom?” Quinn asked.
He swallowed. “Of the gods.”
Chapter 40 – Dilemma
“What?” Her mind boggled.
In the next moment, the front door burst open, splintering where the handle and lock had been, barely hanging by its hinges.
There was a blurry flash of movement that suddenly stopped in front of them and as it did, there stood Arnaud, face pale with concern, eyes frantically looking about.
“What’s going on? Where is he?” Arnaud asked, looking from one to the other.
For a moment, Quinn’s mind had trouble catching up. Her first, in that situation somewhat irrational, thought was that her parents would be freaked when they got home and found the front door like that. But as she began to realize that something – maybe not impossible but at the very least highly improbable – had happened, that against expectations Arnaud had come, incredible relief and sheer happiness washed over her. It made her skin crawl with excitement, and she realized how afraid she had been.
Instinctively, Quinn moved toward Arnaud, her eyes still fixed on Martin. Upon seeing his friend, he stood with hanging shoulders and a defeated expression on his face. All strength seemed to have left him. He looked more vulnerable than he ever had.
“Where is he?” Arnaud repeated. “Are you alright?” His eyes shifted from Quinn to Martin.
Only then, when she saw his concern, not only for her but also for his friend, did Quinn understand that Arnaud didn’t know. He had no idea and it broke her heart, knowing that he would have to be told.
Before anyone of them could speak, there was the sound of a car, speeding down the street. With screeching tires it came to a stop in front of the house.
“Crap, my parents!”
Arnaud shook his head. “No, it’s Soo-Ji. I gotta give her that, she drives like a maniac.”
A moment later, the small Korean woman, a matching expression of concern on her face, appeared in the doorframe. Her eyes inspected the damage before they shifted to the three of them.
“Are you alright?” she asked, looking about as though looking for something.
Quinn nodded, unsure how to tell them.
Martin still stood there, silent as a marble statue and just as pale.
“What?” Soo-Ji said, a shocked expression on her face. “Are you sure?” she asked, staring wide-eyed at the potted plant by the couch.
“What is she saying?” Arnaud asked.
Confused, Quinn looked back and forth between them. “What’s going on?”
Taking a step toward them, Soo-Ji’s eyes held the same sadness and regret that Quinn was sure must be in her own. Even before she spoke, Quinn knew that Soo-Ji had somehow learned the truth.
“It was him,” she said, her eyes fixed on Arnaud. Her voice was barely a whisper. “He attacked her.”
Frozen in place, Arnaud’s head slowly turned from the young woman to his old friend. There was still disbelief in his eyes as they met Martin’s.
“I’m so sorry,” Martin said, finally coming alive again. “Once again I betrayed you.”
Arnaud shook his head. “I don’t believe this,” he whispered, but at the same time his eyes saw the amulet clutched in Martin’s grasp. Without hesitating, Arnaud moved forward, positioning himself between Quinn and his friend.
“I had no choice,” Martin said. “If you knew what was at stake, what still is …” He broke off.
“What are you talking about? What choice?” Arnaud asked, more than anger there were disappointment and pain in his voice.
“I was just telling her,” Martin said, his eyes shifting to Quinn. “I …I don’t expect you to understand, but it still must be done.”
A menacing growl rose from Arnaud’s throat. “Tell me,” he spoke through gritted teeth.
“I was killed because I’m a first-born of the McPherson line. Just like her.” He nodded at Quinn. “And just like many before her, and before me. We all carry a potential within us that is not revealed until our hearts stop. Only then can our heritage take us to new limits, make us what we were meant to be.”
“And what is that?” Arnaud growled, eyes narrowing. “You’re not like me, are you? You’re something else?”
Martin nodded. “We are known as immortals, the descendants of the gods.”
“Yeah, what does that mean?” Quinn asked, stepping forward. “What do you mean gods?”
Reaching out, Arnaud stopped her, holding her slightly behind him. “Don’t come any closer.”
She nodded, standing back.
“They refer to themselves as gods, as do those that serve them,” Martin explained. “It’s been like that for millennia.”
“When you say gods,” Quinn asked. “Do you mean like gods gods?”
A slightly amused smile flashed over his face. “What are gods if not powerful beings that create a world after their own ideas. How would you define a god?”
Seeing his point, Quinn nodded.
“They are the first ones, the ancient ones,” Martin went on. “I’m not sure what exactly that means or what they are. I’ve been fortunate enough never to have crossed paths with one. But I do know that they are strong and powerful, and you can’t defeat them.” For a second his eyes closed. He looked exhausted. “If you defy them, they will kill you. Worse, they will kill those you love. If I don’t obey them, if I don’t kill you,” he looked at Quinn, “They will not only demand your life to punish me and exert their power, they will eliminate our line.”
“Our line?” Quinn asked, feeling shivers run down her spine. “You mean, my family? My parents? My—”
“Your sister, your cousins, your aunts and uncles,” Martin cut in, a hint of anger in his voice. “Everyone.” There was something in his eyes that asked for their understanding. “They forced my hand. If I hadn’t obeyed them, the McPherson line would have ended over two hundred years ago, and you wouldn’t be standing here. You would’ve never been born.” He nodded, as though he had reached a decision. “They need to be obeyed. They are much older and far more powerful than … anyone. They are our superiors in every way. They are the old ones, from the beginning of time. No one can stand against them.” Again his eyes shifted to Quinn. “You’ll be wise to let me kill you now, before they make you pay a much dearer price.”
Again a threatening growl rose from Arnaud’s throat and he took a step forward, eyes fixed on Martin.
“I understand that you are angry, but there is nothing you can do. Even if you were able to stop me, there will be others and even if you could stop all of them, that would only bring forth the gods. They will come and they will take her life, and there is nothing you can do about it. They will squash you like a bug. You will die for nothing.” He looked imploringly at Arnaud. “But if you let me kill her now, there is a chance that she will come back.”
“Why?” Quinn whispered, staring into the distance. Hearing her fate, according to Martin sealed since the moment of her birth, shook her to the core of her being. “What do they want with me? With us?”
“I don’t know,” Martin said, shaking his head.
Arnaud let out a snort. “You’re not stupid,” he spat. “Whoever they are, they are driven by power, like everyone who already has too much of it. And they want more.” His eyes narrowed. “They want an army, and you’ve been helping them. Killing off your own family.”
“I didn’t have a choice,” Martin said, but there was no anger in his voice. He sounded pleading.
“There’s always a choice,” Arnaud hissed. “Yes, sometimes it requires sacrifices. But murdering your family in cold blood, that should never have been a choice.” Shaken to his core, he stared at Martin. “Who the hell are you? How could I ever have called you my friend?”
The pain over Arnaud’s words was clear on Martin’s face and despite his intentions toward her, Quinn felt for him. A part of her could understand why he had done what he had. What if he killed her and she actually became an immortal? What if the gods demanded that she take the life of her first-born descendants, threatening that if she didn’t, they would kill her family? Her parents? And her sister? And with them everyone that would follow? Martin had told her that he had chosen the lesser of two evils, and in a way she understood what he meant and how he had made that decision.
Pulling a small silver case from his back pocket, Arnaud asked, “What if it had been her?”
The case easily fit into the palm of his hand. He flipped it open and Quinn saw that it was a small frame, holding the finely painted picture of a young woman. Her dark, almost black hair was parted in the middle and braided on the sides, tied in the back with long curls falling over her shoulders. Sitting on the old chaise in the sitting room of de la Roche Manor, she wore a dark green dress, fashionable over two hundred years ago. Matching it was the emerald stone on a thin silver chain around her neck. But it was her face that drew Quinn’s attention.
The young woman held her chin slightly raised. It made her look dignified and noble, and yet there was something in her eyes, a gleam, something that shone across time, that betrayed her wild spirit. Quinn could almost see the reluctance on her face at having to sit still for the painting to be made. Whoever the artist had been, he possessed a rare gift for capturing life in its essence.
Almost shoving the picture in Martin’s face, Arnaud hissed at him, “Would you’ve just stepped aside and let them kill her?”
Martin’s face fell.
“Or would you have fought for her?” Arnaud asked. “Died for no reason?”
Before either one of them could say anything more, Quinn stepped forward, her eyes fixed on the small silver case.
“What are you doing?” Arnaud asked, as he noticed her pass by him. “Don’t!” He grabbed her arm, just as she reached out her hand.
Head bowed, Martin mumbled, “I won’t harm her.” Resignation and a hint of understanding shone on his features.
At his words, Arnaud’s head snapped up and his hold on Quinn’s arm loosened as he stared at his friend.
The moment the restraint was gone, Quinn took the last step and her hand reached the small picture, taking it out of Arnaud’s. Carefully, her eyes examined the young woman’s face she knew to be Joséphine, Arnaud’s sister, and the woman Martin had loved and lost.
“Will you give me your word?” Arnaud asked, still eyeing Martin with caution.
He nodded. “I will. If this is what you want, I will not fight you.” Lifting his head, Martin looked at his friend imploringly. “But be warned, a lot of pain and suffering lies ahead if you choose this path.”
“Thank you,” Arnaud said, some of the strain leaving his shoulders as he held out his hand, palm facing upward. His eyes focused on the amulet Martin was still holding clutched in his hand. “And will you help me?”
Now it was Martin who looked surprised. “But …I told you, there is nothing I can do.”
“Have you tried?” Arnaud asked, but Martin just stared at him. “Then how do you know? After everything you’ve seen, do you really believe that there are things impossible in this world?”
“I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Say that you’ll think about it,” Arnaud said, nodding at his friend encouragingly. “It’s all I ask.”
“I will,” Martin promised. “It’s the least I owe you.” Hesitatingly, he extended his hand and after a short moment carefully placed the amulet in Arnaud’s hand.
Still standing transfixed, staring at the picture in her hands, Quinn barely followed the conversation. Only when they turned to her, Arnaud’s hand brushing over her arm, did she look up.
“Are you alright?” he asked, a frown on his face. “You have a strange look on your face.”
“I …I,” Quinn stammered, as her mind tried to catch up with her eyes. She looked from Arnaud to Martin and back at the picture in her hands. Holding it up, she said, “I know her.”
Chapter 41 – The Hours That Are Passed
“What do you mean you know her?” Arnaud asked, forehead in a frown. For a second, his eyes darted to Martin, who bore a similar expression on his face.
Quinn shrugged. “I mean I … this is your sister, right? Joséphine?” she asked, trying to imitate a French accent. Arnaud nodded. “Okay, obviously, I don’t know her. How could I? But I feel like I’ve seen her face before.” Again her eyes examined the finely chiseled features on the small picture in her hands. “She looks familiar. There’s something about her that … rings a bell or something. I’m not sure.” She looked up at Arnaud. “Do you still have family here in town? Anyone related?” Again Quinn heard the voice of Martin’s father, You have my daughter’s eyes. Why shouldn’t the young woman in the picture have passed on those dark eyes or determined features to her descendants?
But Arnaud shook his head. “My family was the only one who ever settled in Crescent Rock. I have more distant relatives farther in the south, but I doubt that you ever met them. After my parents died and then my sister too, I left and … well, you know what happened to me.”
Not exactly, Quinn thought, but that was a question for another day.
“What about children?” Soo-Ji asked, peering at the picture in Quinn’s hands. “Did your sister have children?”
Arnaud shook his head.
“You sure?” Quinn insisted, unable to let go of the feeling of recognition.
“Yes, neither one of us ever married.”
Soo-Ji chuckled. “You damn well know that that isn’t the same thing.”
“Fine,” Arnaud admitted. “Maybe not today, but back then it kind of was. I would’ve known if my sister had had a child.”
“But when she died, you were off playing soldier—”
“We weren’t playing,” Arnaud interrupted her.
“Okay, didn’t mean to offend.” Soo-Ji held up her hands to calm him. “My point is that when she died, you hadn’t seen her in months. She could’ve been pregnant without you knowing it, couldn’t she?” Her gaze shifted to Martin, a question in it that didn’t need words.
All eyes followed hers.
“Martin?” Quinn said.
Arnaud’s features grew hard as he saw the evading look in his friend’s eyes.
“We were meant to get married,” Martin suddenly said, sounding defensive. “By all accounts we should already have been married. We did nothing wrong.”
Instantly, Arnaud had him by the throat, growling.
“Let him go!” Quinn said, a commanding tone in her voice. Grabbing hold of Arnaud’s arm, she tried to pull him away, but to no avail.
“Arnaud, don’t be an idiot.” Soo-Ji spoke with an even voice. “Whatever happened, it was a long time ago. And he is right, they were engaged. I doubt that whatever happened happened against her will.”
“She was my sister,” Arnaud hissed, completely abandoning reason.
“But she was an adult,” Soo-Ji insisted, gently pulling on his other arm. “And they were in love. Don’t you know what that’s like?”
All the while Arnaud had his hands in an iron grip around Martin’s throat. Martin however didn’t seem to object. His face was solemn, the look in his eyes one of resignation. He didn’t struggle. Didn’t even try. It was like his body was an empty vessel, abandoned some time ago, when after decades of calculated killing his heart had finally been touched again.
“Please try,” he forced out with a strangled voice, eyes fixed on Arnaud.
“Try what?” Quinn asked, seeing ho
w Arnaud was locked in his rage, unable to shake it off.
For a moment, Martin’s eyes traveled to her. “Kill me,” he whispered.
“What?” Quinn said, shocked at the despair in his words. He wasn’t the man who had only moments ago threatened her life. Determined, she grabbed the car keys that had tumbled out of her purse onto the floor and, without thinking, rammed them into Arnaud’s side with all the force she could muster.
He didn’t flinch but he noticed. Blinking, he turned his head to her, bewilderment in his eyes.
“Let go of him!” Quinn ordered. When she saw his hands loosen just a little, she shoved against him. Her eyes darted to Soo-Ji, who immediately tightened her hold on his arm and pulled.
Together they managed to move Arnaud a few paces back.
“Don’t try that again!” Quinn said, stepping in-between Martin and Arnaud, holding out a hand to keep him back. “This is not a solution!” Her eyes focused on his. “And that isn’t you!”
Taking a deep breath, Arnaud pulled the key out of his side, a few drops of blood dripping to the floor. There was still anger in his eyes, but it was more controlled now, and he nodded.
“Alright,” Quinn said and slowly turned around to the man at her back.
Martin stood there, the expression on his face almost unchanged. But the moment her eyes met his, she thought there was surprise there. Astonishment.
Casting a warning glance at Arnaud, Quinn asked, “Did Joséphine have a child?”
A low growl came from behind her, but no attack.
Leaning back against the wall, as though needing it for support, Martin looked at them. “I don’t know. I guess it’s possible but … she didn’t tell me. She never said anything.”
“And why wouldn’t she tell you?” Arnaud hissed.
“Maybe she didn’t want him to worry,” Soo-Ji suggested, earning her an angry glare from Arnaud. “You were both fighting in a war, risking your lives, maybe she didn’t want you distracted. She knew you’d be worried for her if she told you. Maybe she just wanted you focused on the task at hand.”