by SF Benson
Minutes have passed since Marc left, and I feel like shit. I thought I was doing him a favor and saving my heart by pushing him away. All I’ve done, however, is add to my own loneliness.
The door pushes open, but I don’t sense Marc. When I see the edge of a pair of glasses, my heart shrinks. Reality dawns. The man won’t be returning anytime soon. Probably never again.
“Hello, Antoinette,” Dr. Rogers drawls. “How are you doing today?”
“I’ve been better,” I mutter as my gaze flickers toward the ceiling. I’m really not in the mood to listen to advice from a Southern gentleman.
The doctor sits in Marc’s vacated seat. He doesn’t have permission to sit there. No one else does. “Is there something troubling you today?”
I take a deep breath. Dr. Rogers won’t get it. He’ll say what I’m feeling toward Marc is gratitude, nothing more. Shrinks can always find a logical explanation even where one doesn’t exist. Some things are best kept in the dark.
“Nothing.”
“Does this have anything to do with the friend of the family who’s been here almost daily?”
Pursing my lips, I shake my head. “He’s a friend. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Would you like it to be more?” He watches me as if he’s expecting some breakthrough answer. Possibly something he can develop into an article for a journal.
“It doesn’t matter what I want. Remember, I’m a cripple. No man wants to put up with this.” I point at my useless legs.
“Antoinette, stop thinking of yourself that way.” He leans forward. “I spoke to your therapist yesterday. He had good things to say about you. It’s too early to rule out some nerve damage, but he thinks you might get some function back if you work hard. Unless you’d prefer the wheelchair.”
My gaze swings to him. “Who wants to stay in a wheelchair?”
“Exactly.” Dr. Rogers flips his tablet over. “So, let’s talk for real. Find out what’s eating away at you and try to fix it. Shall we?”
“What the hell…”
I’m facing down another plate of food not fit for even a homeless person. Why is it hospitals are in the business of treating the sick but they insist on feeding you bland crap? It must be part of a racket. Keep patients from progressing by feeding them the worst meals with the hope they’ll starve and get sicker, requiring more medical care. More money.
Sliding the tray to the side, I prepare to be hungry for the rest of the night when the door edges open and a delicious aroma creeps in. As the door widens, I see Cherina carrying another picnic basket.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” she says, glancing around the room. “I thought you might appreciate a little home cooking.”
“Hell, yeah!” Best news, outside of the possibility of walking, I’ve heard all day. “I’m starving.”
The witch laughs briefly and comes closer. She takes the offensive tray to the hall—like Marc did—and then hurries over to unpack the basket. “I hope you don’t mind meatloaf and mashed potatoes.”
“Green beans?” I adjust the bed so I can sit up.
“Of course. I even made an apple cobbler for dessert.” Cherina sets a segmented plate in front of me. She opens the thermos and pours out more of her specially-brewed tea. “Here you go. Do you mind if we talk while you eat?”
“About?” I shovel the food in my mouth, and my eyes flutter close as I savor the tender meat. It has to be the best meatloaf I’ve ever had. Sorry, Mom.
“Marcus.” Cherina sits down.
“Oh?” Something tells me this won’t be good. “What about him?”
“You know he has feelings for you.”
I’m well aware of Marc’s feelings. Well, almost. Regardless, it’s none of Cherina’s business. I get the sense Cherina is fishing, and I’m not giving up any information. Instead, I pat my lips with a paper napkin. “Sorry to disappoint you, but he doesn’t,” I lie. “I’m a charity case to him, that’s all.”
She lifts an eyebrow and crosses her legs. “I think you’re the one mistaken. I’ve known Marcus a very long time. He’s always been a private, angry spirit. Ever since the night he saved you, he’s changed.”
Change is good, especially if it’s an improvement. How can Cherina make a positive seem so negative? “Really? How so?”
“He’s agreeable now. He’s made a new friend and found a job. That’s saying a lot for Marcus.”
Dropping my fork, I examine this witch. She thinks she’s being slick, but I see through her. Maybe love is the same for both humans and supernaturals. If Cherina would put on her big girl panties and deal with her own emotions, Marc wouldn’t be alone.
“How long have you been in love with him?” I ask.
“Excuse me?” Cherina coughs and sputters. “You’ve got it wrong, young lady. Trust me, I’m not in love with Marcus. Not like that anyway. For your information, I’m already spoken for.”
Wonder if Marc knows?
“So why are you butting into his business?”
She bites at her lower lip. Wrinkles mar her forehead as she shakes her head. “You’ve given Marcus hope for something he can’t have. He’ll only end up hurt.”
Sorry. I’m not buying it. Friends want happiness for each other. “What’s the real story, Cherina? Why don’t you want Marc to be happy?”
Cherina pulls in a deep breath and slowly releases it. “I want Marcus to be happy, but let’s face it. He’s at least two thousand years old. His chance at life is over.”
I open my mouth to speak, but she lifts her hand.
“Let me finish. Marcus screwed up his opportunities. He should have made better choices in his lifetime.”
“So you’re blaming him for his own death?”
“Yes and no. Marcus failed to stand up to his father. Had he done so, he would have never been a Guard and never been in a position to watch over Augustus.”
Frankly, I don’t like Cherina. A true friend supports, not tears down. How could she hold Marc responsible for his father’s actions?
“I’m sorry, but that’s like blaming the skillet for getting burned. As I understand it, his father was influential. Marc didn’t have a choice.”
“Marcus has always had choices. Even when he became a wraith, he chose not to act accordingly. He spends his time angrily slinking about in the shadows. But that’s neither here nor there. Marcus belongs to the afterlife, not here and not with you.”
“You’re a cold bitch. With friends like you, Marc is better off alone.” Suddenly, I’ve lost my appetite. “And what the hell is wrong with me besides the broken body?”
“Call me what you will. My skin is thick enough to absorb any and all insults. I’ve done so for a hundred years. I can do it a hundred more.” Cherina stands up. “You’ve already said what’s wrong with you, my dear. You’re a charity case for Marcus. He’s infatuated with you. Confusing strong interest with love is going to get him hurt.”
“You’re wrong about him.” Marc’s not infatuated or in love.
Are you sure? He may have only kissed your hand, but it was a sign of affection.
“Am I? Has he told you about Cordelia?”
I stay silent.
“Thought so. He claimed to love her but didn’t raise a finger to help the woman.” Cherina cocks her head to the side. “Do you realize you’re practically a mirror image of Cordelia? You have Marcus confused. He even calls you Antonia. This isn’t Roman times, and you’re not a gladiator. If you care about him at all, do him a favor and let him go.”
How dare Cherina try to dictate what Marc does? And how dare she insinuate I’m bad for him? Maybe he’s her only friend? If he becomes interested in someone, Marc will spend less time with the witch. I went through this shit with Rob and have no desire to be part of someone else’s drama. Discouraging Marc from coming back here was the right thing to do.
Keep telling yourself that one.
Holding my chin high, I say, “You’ll be happy to know Marc won’t be b
ack to see me. He’s moved on. Collision avoided. Is that what you wanted to know?”
“Thank you.” She removes another plastic container from the basket before closing it up. “You’ll find happiness again, Antoinette. It will take Marc a minute, but he’ll get over you and get back to the business of the dead. Enjoy your dinner.”
Cherina saunters to the door. When her hand touches the handle, I call out, “FYI… In order for me to let Marc go, I had to have his heart to begin with. He never gave it to me.”
Liar.
He’s given you so much more.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Uraeleus
Thanks to Antoinette pushing me out the door, I arrive at the Temptation Club two hours before opening. When I enter the office, I find both Victor and Kelsie.
“Is there something I should know?” I say as I make my way to the desk. My desk.
Kelsie’s pale cheeks darken for a moment. “It’s my fault. I wanted to come to town. Victor thought I could spend some time here without Council noticing.”
Parking my butt against the desk, I make a mental note to change this crappy furniture. With all this chrome and suede, it looks like the fucking seventies threw up in here. “You don’t have to apologize, Kelsie. If anything, I owe you an apology.”
Two pairs of wide eyes stare back at me. Their mouths drop open simultaneously.
“Pardon my language, but I was an ass to you. Maybe if I had stood up for what you wanted, you wouldn’t have been exiled.”
Kelsie bobs her pretty head. “I never thought I’d hear sincerity from you, Uraeleus.”
A smile tugs at my lips. “Even a cad can change.” I walk around the desk and sit down. “It’s my understanding you could use a few decorating projects. Would you like to take on this place for me?”
“Me?” Kelsie turns to Victor, but he sits back and lets his lady speak. She places a hand on her chest. “I wouldn’t know what to do first.”
“This office would be a good start.” Folding my hands on top of the glass desk, I say, “I’d prefer something more masculine but nothing fancy. And make sure it’s comfortable. I’m too old to be sitting on this…crap.”
Kelsie laughs and stands. “You don’t have to watch your words with me, but I appreciate the effort.” She looks down at Victor. “Can I borrow the car? I want to see if my mother’s home. She has great design ideas.”
Victor reaches into his jacket and pulls out his key ring. “Take your time, babe. Don’t worry about Council. If anyone says anything to you, tell them to find me.”
She nods and looks over to me. “Thank you for all your help, Uraeleus.”
“Call me Marc,” I suggest.
“Marc.” She pauses and her gaze flicks to the ceiling. “That’s going to take some getting used to along with this new persona of yours, but I like it. You should hang on to it.” Kelsie bends down and gives Victor a brief kiss before heading to the door.
I observe the vampire. Yearning colors his expression. It’s obvious to anyone he’s deeply in love with the hybrid. Unexpectedly, my heart beats quicker and my temperature rises. I suck in a breath through clenched teeth, trying to calm down.
“Marc, I need your help with Council,” Victor says after the door clicks shut.
“What’s going on?” I push off the chair. The longer I sit on it, the more my spine threatens to permanently bow.
“Those unaware of the pending change aren’t taking me seriously.”
“A problem indeed.” I pull my phone out of my pocket and take a seat on the sofa. “Use this and send a message out to the heads. Let them know I’m summoning everyone here in an hour.”
“You sure?”
Without anything else distracting me, I’m sure. “Positive. It’s time to move forward.”
Once again, the Temptation Club is closed for a special session of Council. Representatives of the various supernatural groups—shapeshifters, witches, the fallen, the Night Dwellers, and my beta for the Night Terror Society—sit around the dance floor. The front door opens and lets in a rank gust of wind and cold along with The Najex and Luc Duquette.
The angular vampire strolls in and stops when he’s toe to toe with me. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I called the meeting,” I shoot back. A flash of movement catches my eye. Behind Luc stands The Najex with a mischievous grin plastered on his face.
“Is that a fact?” Luc spits out his words. “What do you have to say that any of us would want to hear?”
Wiping the spittle from my cheek, I reply, “Sit your ass down and find out.”
He spears me with a heated look before finding a seat right at the edge of the dance floor.
The Najex stops at my side. “Are you ready for the onslaught? It promises to be delicious.”
A chill creeps down my back. Anytime Khan Najex looks forward to an event, it promises to be dangerously wicked. Unfortunately, time is of the essence. I steel my spine and face the gawking crowd.
“You can all close your damned mouths. Yes, I’m human again. Get over it,” I declare. When the not-so-quiet whispers cease, I continue. “Victor Duquette and I called you here tonight. We have a situation that needs to be handled.”
Victor steps onto the floor. “The problem is a blatant one, threatening all of our lives in this town.” He locks eyes with Luc. “Our current leader operates under the notion supernaturals and humans can co-exist in this town only if we bow down to them.”
Murmurs rise around the room.
The young vampire holds up his hand. “Every rule and regulation Luc has given us protects humans and leaves us vulnerable.”
Noticing Samson in the crowd, I say, “When was the last time a shifter was able to hunt in this town?”
The bear shifter growls his agreement.
Victor cuts an eye toward me. “What Uraeleus means is: When was the last time any of us could be ourselves here?”
“What do you know? You came with Luc,” points out Elsbeth, her eyebrows shooting up.
“True, but I’ve done my research.” Victor begins pacing the floor. “Before our arrival, the supernaturals had an understanding with the founding families. Those of us who preyed on humans would only choose vagabonds or criminals. We helped keep the peace in Falls Creek. It’s the reason we don’t have a prison here. Nobody jailed stays there long.”
Elsbeth’s wine-colored head nods along with a few others. An amber glow, however, comes from Luc’s eyes. His young prodigy has hit a nerve.
Victor clears his throat. “Has it occurred to anyone that only my kind can thrive under these conditions?”
News to me.
“Vampires only need a blood supply, and the hospital provides it. Did you know Luc also runs a blood refinery? He runs an import business through Valenti Distributing. I’m sure all of you have heard of Crimson Ridge, Savage Wines, and Old Country Blends. Vamps and anyone else needing to imbibe buy those brands—courtesy of Luc.”
Damn.
Shooting a stormy gaze at Victor, Luc takes to his feet. “I have nothing to do with Valenti or those labels.”
“What you’d like everyone to believe,” Victor concurs. “But it’s not the main issue. Sure, your being in bed with Valenti is despicable, but it doesn’t harm vampires. Your rules force the wolves, the bears, and everyone else who needs a fresh source out of town. If this keeps up, Falls Creek will be home to vampires and humans only!”
Chairs scratch the floor. Tables flip. Shouts fill the room. Every supernatural makes their way toward Luc. I’m surprised when The Najex comes to my side. He lifts both hands and everyone stops. Freezing might be a better description.
“If you are ready to listen like an orderly bunch of beings, I’ll lower my hands,” he announces.
Unable to move, everyone simply agrees.
The Najex drops his arms, and the crowd returns to their seats. Luc, however, continues to stand.
Luc snaps, “What are you proposing?”
/> “A vote,” Victor announces. “Tonight. Choose who you want leading your Council. I’m willing to take over—”
“Of course,” quips my beta. His grayish miasma swirls until a pattern forms, and a man with ginger hair and a beard appears. Brice’s thick Scottish brogue colors his words. “Do we really want to replace one vampire wi’ another one?”
“If I may…” It’s time for me to speak up. “Victor was selected to replace Luc because of his history. As you know, he petitioned Council months ago to approve his relationship with a succubus. This vampire speaks his mind. He understands there has to be an agreement between the founders and our community. He’s not willing to risk it.”
Victor jumps in. “I understand better than any of you what’s at stake. Here’s the bottom line: I’m a better candidate for leadership because I respect all of you. Honestly, I never wanted to be a vampire. I wasn’t born this way. Luc made me, but I didn’t ask for it. So, I’m not in this for my benefit. I’m in it for my fiancée, her family, and all of you who have become my friends.”
“Aye, I can get wi’ that,” Brice says. “Let’s vote and be done wi’ it.”
Luc doesn’t budge. “Do I not get a say?”
If it were left up to me, the answer would be no. His say is crippling our town. “Not really.”
The vampire gives it anyway. “First off, you do not get a vote. Humans don’t participate in Council business.”
Pursing my lips, I consider Luc’s words. “Technically, I’m not human, but in my absence, Brice is promoted. All of you know I have no love for this Council. As far as I’m concerned, my beta is the head of the NTS permanently. I only want to make sure things proceed fairly.”
“Then you can go,” Luc adds.
“Not a problem.” I walk toward the back of the room, headed to the office.
Luc says, “Front door is the other way.”
Turning on my heel, I say, “I’m well aware of the location of all exits. I’m headed to my office.”
“What the bloody hell!” Luc exclaims.
An uproar starts as I continue my departure. Smiling to myself, I’m sure this matter will come back to bite me in the ass.