Wicked Soul

by Nora Ash

  When he landed on the roof, he sank down to his knees so I could sit on his lap in an imitation of the way I’d been straddling him last night. Only this time, there wasn’t any sexual undertones—just a bone-deep urge to know he needed me as much as I needed him—needed me enough to follow through on his promise that he’d do anything to make this right.

  A gentle touch against my cheek made me open my eyes and move my head back from his shoulder.

  "I am so sorry I hurt you, Liv.” It was a gentle, intimate whisper.

  I drew in a deep breath. “You said you’d given up on everything when we first met. What did you mean?”

  “I…” Warin hesitated, and I stared into his darkened eyes.

  “You promised my anything to make this right. I want to know something about you no one else does. I want to know this.”

  He sighed deeply. “I was planning to meet my Final death, once I’d gotten to the bottom of the disappearances. It was my last obligation.”

  “Warin,” I whispered, reaching for him without thought.

  “It’s not… It would not have been a tragedy. It would have been my long overdue penance. And a relief. I have been numb for more than eight hundred years. At first, I stayed for Aleric. I knew he would have been torn apart by my absence. Then it was my obligation to my territory. Chicago was on the brink of a power vacuum when I was given reign here. But Aleric has his own territory now, his own responsibilities, and Carina would have been able to manage the city until a worthy Ancient could take over. I thought I was finally done with this life.” He smiled at me, a gentle expression. “But then you showed up.”

  “What is this? This connection between us?” I asked, because there was no use pretending anymore. We both knew it was there, even if I couldn’t fathom why.

  “I’m not sure.” He reached up and stroked a hand through my hair. “But if I believed in a god, I’d think you an angel of mercy sent to save me from my own darkness.”

  I snorted at the ridiculousness of that notion. “Good thing you don’t, then, because I would have been the worst guardian angel ever.”

  The corner of his mouth quirked up at my comment. “Maybe I can be your guardian angel instead. If you’ll let me.”

  “How about we say we’re just friends?” I offered.

  “That would make me very happy.”

  We sat in silence for a little while, and I rested my head back against his shoulder and let the night embrace us both.

  “Warin?” I finally said.

  “Yes?” he asked. From the distant note in his voice, I guessed his thoughts had been wandering.

  “You can’t ever give up on life. Even un-life, as it may be in your case. You’re still alive because you still have life left to live. I believe with everything that I am that we do not get to make the choice for when we’re done. There is no easy way out. We’ll just have to live it all over again—all the pain, the suffering, and grow stronger until we can overcome it.”

  “You believe in reincarnation?” he asked.

  “I do. And I believe in you. Please, Warin. Promise me, no matter what happens… don’t end your life. Not before it’s time.”

  He reached up and stroked a hand across my cheek in a gentle caress. “I can promise that I will always be there for you, as your friend, for as long as you need me.”

  I frowned. “But I won’t always be here. I’ll grow old, and I’ll die.”

  “You don’t have to worry for me, little one. I will finish whatever Fate has planned for me. Meeting you showed me that even after more than a thousand years, I don’t know what will come next.”

  I guessed that was as much as I could ask for, though I wished he’d been more definitive on the whole “no suicide ever” thing. “Are you really more than a thousand years old?

  “About twelve hundred, give or take.”

  “That’s…” I snorted, the vastness of his lifespan stretching too far for me to fully comprehend. To have been alive for more than a millennium… “I thought you were a kid when I saw you in that cage. Not even old enough to buy a drink legally.”

  He chuckled, the rumble of it vibrating through his chest to mine. “I think I was around nineteen, maybe twenty, when I died.”

  I sighed and patted his shoulder. “The next time you call me ‘little one,’ I’m gonna start calling you grandpa.”

  “I’d prefer if you didn’t.”

  I smirked into his shoulder. “See it as part of your penance for blood-stalking me.”

  We sat in silence a while longer, until a thought began to niggle at me. Something about that number he’d mentioned before—eight hundred years. “Warin… do you know someone called Thea? Or have you ever?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Nothing. It was just a thought.” I straightened up and looked out across the city lights stretching out far below. “Oh, and Warin? One final thing…”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m not paying you back for the plane tickets to Denver on Thursday. This whole penance thing is going to take a while.”

  22

  I flew to Denver alone in the early afternoon on the twenty-third of November, the day of Thanksgiving. Warin had informed me he’d fly by himself the previous night, and as much as I loved flying with him, a nearly three hours spent shivering on Warin’s back wasn’t nearly as attractive as the first-class ticket he’d bought me.

  I arrived not too long after sunset, and found a chauffeur waiting for me with a cardboard sign at the airport.

  He turned out to be driving a limo.

  Warin was certainly going all-out in trying to make up. As I leaned back and sipped a glass of champagne, I couldn’t deny it was pretty nice that he tried this hard. I was already grateful that I didn’t have to dip into my savings for the flight and hotel room, but this—this was above and beyond.

  The driver took me to a fancy-as-fuck hotel twenty minutes from the airport, and I blinked as he opened the door for me, my weekend bag in hand.

  “Wow, you sure we’re in the right place?”

  “I’m sure, Miss Green. Mr. Waldlitch ask me to relay that the bill will be taken fully care of, and to order from room service as you please. He will be here at six thirty to pick you up.”

  I didn’t even care that the chauffeur probably thought I was some sort of kept woman. Even the anxiety that had been brewing in my gut all day at the prospect of seeing my family seemed easier to deal with as I checked into the most luxurious hotel suite I’d ever stepped foot in and gave into my very own Pretty Woman fantasy.

  * * *

  “You look very beautiful.”

  I smiled at Warin as he stood in the hotel foyer, hands clasped at the wrists while he waited for me. I wasn’t in anything nearly as fancy as the silky extravagance he’d bought for me for his vampire meeting. The gray long-sleeved dress, woolen tights, and knee-high boots I was wearing were my own, but they were the very best my closet had to offer. I’d spent a long time agonizing over picking out an outfit that my family wouldn’t criticize, on styling my hair in a way I knew my mother wouldn’t complain about, and applying exactly the right amount of makeup to not be pulled aside for being a slob, nor gossiped about for being a whore. The look of sincere admiration on Warin’s face as he looked me up and down went a long way to calm my anxiety that I might have gotten it wrong.

  “Thank you. And… thank you for all this.” I motioned at the hotel foyer. “So much. You didn’t have to… I know I said it was penance, but this is…”

  “It’s nothing but a small gesture.” He waved me off, offering me his arm. “I’m staying with Aleric, but I figured you might want a little break from, ah, my kind.”

  “I didn’t know he lived in Denver,” I said.

  “He’s the Night Lord of the city and its surrounding territories,” Warin explained.

  “Oh, maybe that explains his haughty attitude.” I grimaced. “I don’t think he likes me very much.”

  “My brother can be ver
y… protective,” he said as he led me outside.

  I stared at the fire-engine-red Ferrari we stopped in front of. “Wow. That’s… not what I thought your taste was like.”

  A wry smile pulled on his lips as he opened the passenger side door for me. “It’s Aleric’s. This was the most modest of his collection.”

  “Oh, well that makes so much sense,” I muttered as I slid in. So much for keeping a low profile during the visit with my family.

  * * *

  The knowledge that we were approaching my childhood neighborhood and a reunion with my extended family seemed to drain the energy out of me for every mile we came closer. When we finally pulled up in front of my aunt’s house, I knew I would never be able to get through the evening without Warin by my side.

  Warin parked the flashy car, and I drew in a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves.

  "You’re frightened,” he said softly.

  Smoothing my hands over my dress to stop the slight tremble in them, I turned to him with an attempt at a smile. It failed pretty miserably. "My family is sorta my kryptonite."

  “Do you wish to leave?”

  “No, I… it’d just be worse if I stayed away. Just… please promise me you won’t leave my side,” I begged.

  Cool fingers touched my chin, gently turning my face to his. “I’ll stay by you. I promise.”

  I took another deep breath and managed a slightly more sincere smile this time. “Thank you.”

  The door opened before we made it all the way up there, revealing Edna’s thin form. “Olivia, darling, how good of you to find time to visit your family! And you must be the young man Lily talked about. Will, right?"

  “Warin,” I automatically corrected.

  "Come on in—you're the last ones to arrive," Aunt Edna didn’t acknowledge the correction as she swept us inside.

  Everyone was there. All the aunts, cousins, uncles, my grandparents, and of course my mother, her boyfriend, and my little sister. They were all staring when we came in—at Warin, at his flawless features and his casual, but expensive-looking clothes—and I knew that they were trying to figure out what on Earth he was doing here with me.

  "Oh, Olivia!” My mother got up from the group of relatives she was sitting with and came over to give my frozen form a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Goodness, I had forgotten how big you are!"

  I’d inherited my biological father's height and bone density, and had always towered over the other women in the family. My mother and grandmother had never let an opportunity to tell me how unfeminine it was.

  "Gary, come meet Olivia.” My mother waved over her boyfriend, and my sister trailed along.

  Gary grabbed my hand with a big smile and crushed it enthusiastically in his. "So this is the wayward daughter! It's great to finally meet ya!"

  I smiled politely at him. "Hello, Gary. I have heard many good things about you."

  When he released my hand, I turned to Warin, who had been watching the exchange in silence, a hand lightly against my lower back. "This is Warin,” I said.

  Gary grabbed his hand and gave him a hearty slap on the shoulder, and I shot Warin an apologetic sidelong glance when my mother pulled him into an awkward hug.

  "Oh, it is so good to see that Olivia is finally socializing with people of class," my mum chirped, pulling him by the hand toward the group of relatives she had sat with before. "We have been so worried about her life choices these past years."

  Warin let himself get led away, and I briefly greeted my sister before I nervously followed, only to get shanghaied by other aunts, uncles, and cousins for how-do-you-dos, including Kathy—with her fiancé (Brad, twenty-eight, successful local realtor, Audi)—who wanted to know how long I'd known Warin and what he did for a living.

  "About a month.” I looked around to locate him, and saw that he was sitting on the sofa in between Mom and Edna, a group of my relatives leaning in, unquestionably in order to ask him every detail of his life.

  "And I honestly don't know what he works with—some form of business management. Excuse me, Kathy." I managed to duck past Uncle Rogan and find my way to Warin’s side.

  "...always had the urge to go against all rules and sensibility," I heard my mother say, which got a confirming laugh from Edna.

  "Oh, do you remember when she just had to waste her money going to college—to study art? Of course, she never completed it.”

  I breathed deeply as I counted slowly to ten. Art school had been my big dream—the reward I’d clung on to to get me through the difficult years in middle and high school. I’d managed to get in on a scholarship, but during a big project that counted toward half of first year’s grade, Mom had called to tell me my grandma was dying and I had to come home. I’d been too weak to tell her no, failed the project and thus my first year, lost my scholarship… and Grandma was still very much alive.

  And that’s the how the story of “Liv can never complete anything” came to be family legend, retold at every gathering.

  When I opened my eyes again, Warin caught my gaze. He reached up and grabbed my hand in his so he could pull me down next to him, making Edna scoot to the side.

  "I appreciate Liv’s free spirit. And she is an amazing artist," he said.

  Blessed be Warin. I pressed against him for a brief moment to let him know I appreciated it.

  "But you can't live off being an artist," my mom snorted, earning a nod from Gary. "It's alright for women who have the necessary qualities to find a man to support them, but Liv…” She laughed lightly. “Liv isn't exactly that type."

  She was right about that, really. I didn't like the thought of depending on someone to take care of me, but I was pretty sure she wasn't talking about my independence.

  “Oh, I absolutely disagree. If she wasn’t so modest, her art could easily decorate some of Chicago’s finest galleries,” Warin said. “The life of an artist isn’t for everyone—it requires talent and spirit beyond what most of us possess. But I’m sure you know your daughter’s got both in excess.”

  My cousin Melba, who’d wedged in at the edge of our small cluster to not miss a word, half-succeeded in choking off a giggle at that comment. When Warin raised his eyebrows in question, she studiously avoided looking at him by pouring herself another glass of wine.

  "So, Warin,” Gary interrupted. "How did you meet our Olivia?"

  “Our Olivia”? I had never met the man before today, but he apparently felt he was part of the family. Must be nice.

  "I saw her through a window at a bar and knew I had to know her," Warin answered, not missing a beat.

  Oh, suave. Even though I knew it was a lie, my cheeks still heated up.

  My mum giggled, managing that perfect balance between surprised amusement and mild derision she’d perfected to an artform. “Oh, isn’t that sweet? It’s such a rare man who can appreciate a more, ah, difficult body type. I know it’s been hard for Liv to find boyfriends with her build and that unfortunate jawline. A leftover from her father, I’m afraid. How wonderful you could look past it so easily.”

  I clenched Warin’s hand. Every time—she always had to humiliate me. I knew this, expected it. So why did it still hurt so much?

  “Difficult body type?” The barest hint of ice penetrated Warin’s voice, though his tone was nothing but polite disbelief. “There’s nothing difficult or unfortunate about Liv’s appearance, and certainly nothing I need to look past. She’s a beautiful woman.”

  "So, Mom, how did you and Gary meet?" I quickly intervened. I had heard the story multiple times, but making my mother talk about herself was always a good diversion.

  It worked flawlessly. For the next half hour, until dinner was served, my mother talked about their relationship in minute detail, but at least it changed the focus from me. I leaned against Warin for the duration, thankful for his support. He kept his hand in mine the whole time, and for that, I was grateful. It was the first time I’d had to face my family without feeling alone.

  Dinner pas
sed in a blur of fly fishing talk from Uncle Rogan, a million and one questions about the Ferrari we’d arrived in, discussion of Kathy and Brad’s upcoming nuptials, and the occasional insult to my lack of education and career. But during the entire meal, Warin was there, his hand on my knee under the table, lending me his strength. His presence steeled me enough that, for the first time in as long as I can remember, I didn’t feel like crying at every dig that came my way.

  And when my mother asked me to clear the table after dessert, I even found the strength to say, “Sorry, I was gonna show Warin the garden. We’ll be in in a bit.”

  “It’s dark,” my mother protested from her seat. “And Edna could really use the help.”

  “You should help her, then,” I said, a thin smile in place as I grabbed Warin’s hand and pulled him toward the door.

  It was such a small thing, telling my mother no… but my heart was hammering in my chest as I led Warin across the lawn to the old willow tree I’d always escaped to during family gatherings as a kid.

  The swing still hung from one of its sturdy branches, and I patted the thick trunk affectionately. It was so blessedly quiet out here.

  “Sit—I’ll push you,” I said to my silent companion as I nodded at the swing.

  He shot me a hesitant glance, but did as I asked.

  When I pushed him, the stiffness of his posture made it obvious he’d never been on a swing before.

  “Just relax,” I said. “And lift your feet, or I’m not moving you anywhere. Vamp strength and all.”

  Warin obeyed again, and made a small noise of surprise when I pushed him and he rocked slowly on the swing.

  “Fun?” I asked.

  “Interesting,” he said as he looked up in the willow’s branches.

  “I used to come here as a kid. It’s so peaceful,” I said as I pushed against his wool-clad back again.

  “I don’t understand your family,” he said, after a moment’s silence. “They treat you so… poorly.” The touch of anger in his voice warmed me.

  “I’m not like them,” I said softly. “Not everyone sees ‘weird human’ as a good trait. I’ve always been different—I even look different, thanks to my dad’s apparently overpowering genetics.”