by Juniper Hart
“It is the middle of the night,” Nora mumbled. “Where are we going? Can’t it wait until morning?”
Jerome’s mouth became a slash of anger.
“You will do as you’re told,” he ordered her. “You should consider yourself lucky that you are getting anything after the stunt you pulled yesterday.”
Nora clamped her lips together and nodded in agreement.
“You’re right,” she whispered. “Just… let me just get dressed.”
“There’s no time,” Jerome replied. “I just want to ensure you are now contrite about actions yesterday.”
Nora bobbed her head.
“I am,” she conceded, her heart racing slightly.
It had been so long since Jerome had thought to bring her home a present, and she took it as a good sign. Perhaps, if he was in a good mood, he may be open to the idea of having a baby with her, which was a subject he had always shut down whenever Nora had tried to bring it up. If she could just start the conversation at precisely the right moment, she might get him to agree.
One day, I will find that perfect moment, she thought wistfully as she followed him through the second floor.
They stole away in the shadows, the wood not making the slightest creak beneath them as they moved. Jerome pressed his fingers to his lips as he pulled her coat from the front hallway and slipped it over her shoulders, glancing about to ensure that they were not being observed.
It was not until they were secured in his still warm BMW X6 that Nora dared to speak again.
“Where did you go this time?” she asked eagerly, living vicariously through his travels. Now that he had returned to her, she pushed her dreams to the back of her mind.
Your imagination was playing tricks on you in your loneliness, she thought, staring at her lover with wide, earnest eyes.
She had no explanation for her ability to speak English, but she reasoned there had to be a logical interpretation for it. Maybe she had learned it in school as a child.
Then again… there was so much of her childhood that she could not remember. In fact, now that she thought about it, Nora realized that she couldn’t recall anything from her life before she had met Jerome.
There had to be a reason for that as well.
“I was in Nice,” Jerome answered.
A strange flutter tickled her stomach.
“Nice?” Nora echoed. “Did we not meet in Nice? At the gala?”
Jerome cast her a sidelong look and nodded slowly.
“Of course we did,” he said, his voice slightly gruff. “Why are you asking me that?”
“It seems like so long ago,” she replied quickly, turning to look into the night. “Oh! Did you see anyone? My parents? Old friends?”
It seemed to be the wrong question for Nora to ask, and Jerome’s mouth became a fine, unmoving line of annoyance.
She didn’t press the issue, her eyes trailing toward the high-tech interior of the car. What would Jerome do if she flicked on the radio to hear some music? She didn’t even attempt it—he would probably chop her fingers clean off.
The green digits on the clock read 2:23 a.m., and Nora still could not reconcile what was so urgent that he could not wait until the light of day.
“What did you do in Nice?” she finally asked, the silence creeping into her bones.
“Business, Nora!” Jerome snapped. “What is with the ridiculous questions?”
Even though each of her questions apparently made Jerome more upset, Nora still wanted to keep asking him more.
“Chéri, have we ever been to London?” The SUV slid slightly on the ice, and Nora gripped the armrest, her heart racing.
“No.” His response was flat, sure, certain.
But Nora knew he was lying. Or, at least, she thought he was lying.
But why? she wondered to herself. Why would he lie? What difference does it make if we met in London?
She didn’t have time to ask anything else, because Jerome steered the car onto a lonely pathway and turned his full attention to the road in front of them. In the distance, Nora could make out the silhouette of a farmhouse looming in the blackness, illuminated by the half moon and thousands of stars above.
“What is this place?” she asked, glancing back toward the main road.
“You must stop questioning my every move!” Jerome yelled, and Nora jumped, instantly contrite. “You swore to be good, and you haven’t stopped since we left the house!”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He pulled the silver vehicle toward the front of the house, and Nora could see how worn down it was, as if no one lived inside. She saw no lights but a candle flickering in the front window, and her brow furrowed.
“Come along,” Jerome said, leaping from the car. “Don’t say a word. Do not make one sound, Nora. Do you understand?”
Nora nodded her head, but she was not sure she actually understood. Why was he being so secretive? What surprise could he possibly be keeping in a place like this? Her slippers crunching along the snow, she slowly followed him inside the house, her pulse racing wildly.
“Jerome, who—?”
“Shut up!” he snarled, grabbing her roughly by the arm. “Did you not hear me? You must not speak one word! Keep your mouth shut or you can wait in the car alone!”
“No!” Nora cried. “I—I will be silent.”
He glared at her, his blue eyes boring into her as if he intended to intimidate her into silence. Once he made sure she wouldn’t say another word, Jerome finally shifted his eyes away and led her further into the frigid house. Her eyes adjusted to the drafty, shadowy building, and as they walked toward the rear of the empty property, Nora heard a noise.
She froze in her tracks.
“Someone is here,” she whispered.
Jerome covered her mouth and pressed his index finger to his lips. He waved her onward, and soon they found themselves at a door leading into the basement.
“Go,” he told her, pushing her toward the stairs. Nora’s eyes widened with shock and fear as she realized what he intended to do.
“No!” she gasped. But he left no room for argument, shoving her harder, and Nora was forced to advance onto the first step. She whirled, expecting the door to close in her face—to her surprise, however, Jerome was following her down.
Of course he isn’t going to lock you down here, she thought, shaking her head at the inane thought. Why would I ever think such a thing?
She exhaled shakily, feeling the wall to guide herself down the rickety stairs. At the bottom, she heard a noise again. This time, she was sure it was something scuffling. Mice? Rats? She hoped Jerome wasn’t thinking of buying this house for her; it required far too much work, and it most likely had vermin already living in it.
Suddenly, a flash of light glowed from a match as Jerome lit a kerosene lantern, and Nora gazed about the freezing cellar. Jerome pointed at her back, a small, happy smile lighting his face. It made Nora shiver.
She turned to look, and when she saw the horrific scene in front of her, she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.
A girl of about twenty sat quivering in horror on the floor, bound in thick ropes and a filthy gag around her mouth. She was inappropriately dressed for the weather, wearing only a thin sweater, a pair of jeans, and a flimsy pair of socks. Her blue eyes were wide with terror, and she tried to scream as she strained against her ties.
Nora’s knees buckled as bile rose to her throat, but Jerome was immediately at her side, supporting her.
“Nora,” he said, “this is Adrienne.”
“Wh-who is she?” Nora choked. “What is she doing here, Jerome?”
Jerome smiled broadly. “You are always talking about how you long for a child. I have brought you one now. She will be our daughter.”
Nora’s eyes bugged from her head as she gaped from the terrified girl to her lover. “Jerome, you cannot… we cannot…”
His eyes grew mean and small.
“What, chérie?”
he demanded. “You do not want her now? You are never satisfied, are you?”
Nora flinched.
“No, mon amour, I—I love her!” she said quickly, fighting the wave of sick threatening to spill from her mouth.
Jerome’s face relaxed slightly, and he nodded.
“Bien,” he said. “She will stay here until she is ready to come home. I only wanted you to meet her. I was hoping that you could tell her how lovely our home is, as I don’t think she believes me just yet.”
Nora closed her eyes, blinking back her tears.
“Nora?” Jerome insisted, his voice growing dangerously cold.
“It is lovely!” she told the girl. “Perfect.”
“You see, ma chérie?” Jerome asked Adrienne sweetly. “I cannot wait for you to see it.”
Adrienne made an awful sound, a feral cry that seized Nora’s heart and squeezed it in its grip.
No, no, she thought to herself. I am still at home, in bed. The cabin fever has driven me to the edge of insanity and now I am having insane dreams. I don’t speak English. There is no man in London calling out for me, and my lover has not kidnapped a girl. I will wake in a moment and laugh at the bizarreness of what my mind has conjured up.
But she knew that what she was seeing was as real as the twisted smile on Jerome’s face.
It was only until Nora turned to Adrienne and focused her eyes on the girl’s petrified stance that she remembered… everything—everything her mind had either forgotten or locked away for her own sake.
Once upon a time, she had been sitting precisely where Adrienne sat now, helpless and shocked. She had been held in a cold cellar until she had lost all sense of reality, buying into the lies Jerome had told her while he starved her and pushed her to the brink of insanity before pulling her back, rewarding her when she regurgitated the story he fed to her fragile state.
Adrienne was not being brought to the house as their “child.” She was being brought in as Nora’s replacement, just as Nora had replaced the last girl.
She had never been Jerome’s lover. She had only ever been his captive.
The realization caused her to swoon, having to lean against Jerome so that she wouldn’t fall, but not nearly as much as the understanding that she had absolutely no idea who she really was.
“It is time to go, chérie,” Jerome said. “Say goodbye to Adrienne.”
“Goodbye,” Nora whispered as the girl stared on, her eyes bugging from her face.
Nora could feel the panic emanating Adrienne, and as she followed Jerome out of the dank cellar, both women seemed to have precisely the same thought: how long would it be before they died at the hands of a madman?
6
“Where are you?”
Nora turned in a full circle, unsure of where his voice came from. It didn’t matter how much he cried out to her, she could not seem to see him.
“Who are you?” she called out to him again, and the question filled him with despair.
How could she have forgotten me?
It was something he had never considered. They had been fated for hundreds of years, and suddenly, in a mere decade, she had seemed to have forgotten who he was.
He shook his head.
“Don’t say you have forsaken me, Nora!” he screamed, reaching for her face. Nora floundered around as if she were blind, their arms never touching. “I am right here, just as I’ve always been!”
“I know you, but at the same time I don’t!” she wailed, her voice filled with worry and fear. “You must leave before he finds you, too!”
What was she so afraid of? Who was she afraid of?
“Come back to me,” he begged her. “We will never be apart again, I promise!”
“I cannot,” she told him. “I will be killed.”
The words sent a shiver of apprehension through his spine.
“Where are you?” he demanded, more urgency in his voice. “Nora, where have you been?”
But she was gone again, barely out of his reach, and he was left alone in the blackness of the dream, calling out for her.
Ansel opened his eyes, blinking worriedly and sitting up. His dreams had become more intense and more frequent over the past few days, filling his mind with dread. In the past, when he and Nora had been apart, he had dreamt with her, sometimes as their only form of communication. But since she had disappeared, he had not found her in his subconscious.
Ansel had reasoned that she had blocked him from entering her dreams, still believing he had turned his back on her, but it had never occurred to him that she had been in any danger.
Until now.
Ansel rose from the bed and stalked toward the hotel window. He would only be in Las Vegas for three more nights to fight one last match and tie up the paperwork involved, but after he was done, he would return to Europe and find Nora.
What has she become so involved with that she cannot escape? he wondered, trying to imagine any situation where his strong and stubborn Nora would be afraid. In seven centuries, he had never known Nora to show any kind of fear—only determination to do whatever she must. She was far too independent, far too full of confidence and life.
Ansel shook his head again. His dreams were not connected to each other, nor were they connected to Nora. They were a product of his conscience, of his guilt at having waited until the last minute to do what he needed to be with her. Nora was a dragon. There was nothing in the world that could feel her with such terror. Even as a little girl, she had always been braver than all the other boys.
Still, Ansel could not help but feel that she was calling out for him.
When I am done here, I will make every effort to find her, he vowed. If she wishes to be found.
He turned back toward the bed and reached for his laptop. He had unfinished business he had to attend to first.
He logged on, punching in his password, and and he searched for the mobster who had been determined to make his life miserable.
Tony just couldn’t leave well enough alone, Ansel sighed. Some people are just gluttons for punishment.
When Tony Valducci had initially approached him to throw the match with Harley Calverson, Ansel had literally laughed in his face.
“And why would I do that?” he had asked. “I am at the pinnacle of my career.”
Valducci had laughed, too, but there had been no mirth in his tone as he eyed Ansel with palpable disgust.
“You ain’t gonna have a career if you’re dead,” he had retorted, glaring at Ansel with furious eyes. “You ain’t thinking about the big picture, kid.”
“With all due respect, Mr. Valducci, if you aren’t much of a gambler, I suggest you find another foray.”
Tony’s eyes had widened in shock. Ansel had doubted anyone had ever spoken to him like that. The gangster had stepped toward him, his eyes drilling into Ansel’s.
“I’m gonna give you a little break because you’re not from around here,” Valducci spat. “I’m gonna assume that your sense of humor is different than mine. But if you don’t do as I ask, bad things will happen to you. That, I can promise you. I run this town, kid, and everything that happens inside it.”
Ansel had swallowed a smile.
“Your threat is duly noted, Mr. Valducci. Thank you for stopping by,” he had said, gesturing toward the dressing room door.
Valducci had shaken his head. “You’re making a mistake, kid. You’ll see what will happen if your mess this up. It will come out of your pocket one way or another.”
Ansel did not bother to answer, and he watched as Tony left the room, Luca in tow. He had known that Valducci would eventually return with a vengeance, but really, what could he possibly do to Ansel?
I am indestructible, he thought, rolling his eyes. Better and stronger men than him have attempted to kill us, and they all failed. We have been stabbed, shot, and fired, yet we remain. A few mob kings are not going to scare me away from something I’ve worked a decade for. This is the first thing I’ve done on my own. I am n
ot pissing it away because of a coward like Tony Valducci.
As Ansel continued to search for information on Valducci, he found his mind wandering back to Nora again.
He reminded himself that they were indestructible. In seven centuries, they had never been defeated, despite Opal’s assurances that they could be both injured and killed. Of course, she had relished the power she had over them, lording her knowledge and magic like an incentive to keep her alive.
It had only worked for so long. King Rui had finally tired of her and strung her from the castle gates to die of exposure in the dead of winter.
Sometimes, Ansel could still hear her cackling in the wind, despite her death five hundred years earlier.
We should not have killed that devious old sage before she reversed our fate. We still do not know half of what we are meant to know.
The curse was a double-edged sword, for certain. The immortality was both a gift and a curse; the power, incredible but dangerous.
Could someone have found a way to hurt them? Could Nora be in danger? Had she been hurt?
Ansel refused to acknowledge the creeping doubts in his mind. Surely, if she had been in peril, he would have sensed it years ago… wouldn’t he?
I would wager that Nora is stronger than any of the males in our circle, he thought. I do not need to fret about her.
The blackness of night was giving way to the brightness of dawn, but Ansel barely noticed it as he researched his latest nemesis. He would deal with Tony Valducci and then find Nora, as he should have done years ago. He would finally set things right between them—if she would have him.
Even in the light of day, Las Vegas was brightly lit, and Ansel marvelled at its reluctance to sleep as he soared through the wisps of desert clouds. His majestic wings flapped slightly, his massive form circling the area known as Surprise. Many sprawling houses lined the desert streets, and Ansel could see he was among the very wealthy.
Surprise, indeed, he thought dryly, lowering his form toward the posh area. I hope Tony enjoys what I have to bring him.
He could sense he was close to his destination, and as he flew toward the gated home, he allowed his body to fall back into his mortal form. His feet met the arid sidewalk, and Ansel paused, looking over his shoulder to see if he had been observed arriving. He could see no one, but he noticed the cameras witnessing his every move. He waved casually at the blinking red light and waited.