Violet refused to blink. “So, technically… she’s my… big sister?”
Logan rolled his eyes, focusing on me. “How do you feel?”
I considered my tired body, though my mind raced. “I’m sore… and sleepy. It just all happened so fast…,”
“Not from our end. It felt like forever. Then when I realized you could have already had the baby, we had to tie Troy up, because… what if when we killed him we really- killed him, you know? I miss cell phones.” Violet lifted her eyes to West’s. “Can I hold her?”
He nodded. I reluctantly handed Eva to Violet. She accepted her with grace, careful to support her head. Eva continued to sleep, exhaling so noisily that the four of us chuckled in unison, under our breaths. “What next?” She asked, her eyes never leaving her sister’s face.
“Roam needs to rest.” West walked to my side, his fingers kneading my shoulder. “I’m taking them both to the hospital in the morning. Violet, Logan, can you sleep in the living room, on the davenport?”
“What? The porch?” Violet lowered the baby back to my arms. “Like a dog?”
“It’s a couch,” I murmured. West pressed his fingers between his eyes tiredly.
“I’m sorry… yes, couch.”
“We’ll be fine, don’t worry about us.” Logan glanced at the pile of towels, blankets, and sheets in the corner of the bedroom. “I’m guessing there’s no twenty-four hour Laundromat around here.”
“We have Tide in the kitchen… and a wringer near the back door.” He watched their confused faces, and then turned to me, defeated.
“A wringer is like a… press, to squeeze the water out of clothing. No washer, no dryer. I’ll do my best with the laundry tomorrow. Let’s just try to sleep. Where is Troy again?” I yawned, and West sat next to me on the bed.
“There is a little shanty behind the house, for storage. He’s in it, bound and gagged.” He folded a pillow under his head. “In the morning, Violet and Logan can question him while I take you to the mainland for a doctor.”
“Okay,” I turned to my side, my eyelids refusing to operate. “She should be in the cradle. A baby should never sleep in with her parents.” I recited from an internet article I’d read, already feeling the irresistible lull of sleep.
“I’ve got her, baby. Just sleep.”
My hands grip silver mugs of foamy ale. I nearly trip as I scan the room; a bar…, no a pub, crude wooden tables hosting inebriated sots. Sots? When have I ever used that word?
“Ah-ha, gentlemen, may I present,” a man stands atop his chair, propping one leg on the high back while hoisting his cup into the air, “young Isa, the Spanish rose,” he rolls his tongue, spitting foully before brushing the back of his arm over his lips. Lewd catcalls pierce my ears.
“What?” I back away from him, lowering the mugs to a table. Mirror… where’s my mirror? I find the mirror on the wall near the door, liquefied but clearly reflecting my appearance. Black hair, green eyes, tiny waist, full chest… judging by my wench’s gown, I estimate the date to be 1790.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” a man’s voice, so familiar, rings out from the crowd. I step back, not believing my eyes as West climbs on top of another chair, swaying and obviously drunk. “This innocent rose has yet to be… plucked,” his wordplay draws vulgar shouts and laughter, “But I may know a man for the job!”
I’m dreaming…
I’m safe, I think, crossing my arms over my breasts.
Play along, have some fun.
“Sir, if you think that you have the… qualifications… you may attend to your work… upstairs,” I drawl, curling my finger at him as I back toward a staircase. I guess that it leads to the balcony over our heads.
Eager cheers fill the warm tavern, and several men grab West from under the armpits, escorting him to the stairs. I can’t help but laugh; Really, West? Is this how you spent the eighteenth century? “Hurry up… let’s get on with the… plucking, before I wake up,” I tease, pleased to see that his abs are, in fact, immortal as his blousy shirt lifts above his belt while they carry him. Whistling and laughter drown out his smiling words as his eyes struggle to focus.
“How did I get so lucky?” He asks, those sapphire blue eyes gleaming beneath drunken lids.
“Maybe you deserve a break,” I say, my accent clearly of Spanish influence.
“A break?” He narrows his eyes in confusion at my expression, following me as I back up the stairs. Beaming wickedly, his brows jump twice above his gaze. “It hurts a little the first time, you know,” he breathes, alcohol thick on this tongue.
Careful not to touch him, I slide the beige fabric of my left sleeve up to my elbow, offering him the blank plane of tanned skin. “I know,” I mouth seductively.
He stops in midstride, calculating my words. “You?”
“That is not poop. That is some kind of… demonic waste. Something is wrong with her. West, something is wrong with that.”
“It’s normal. It’s called meconium. Violet, hand me another warm rag…,”
“I really think we should just throw this one out. I mean, it’s destroyed.”
“I can clean it.”
“Is she okay?” I watched Violet and West bent over Eva on the floor as she lay on a blanket. She cried pathetically, and I struggled to sit up.
“She’s hungry. How do you feel?” West smiled at me, his warm eyes calming. “You were talking in your sleep.”
“Talking… that’s a nice way to put it.” Violet folded the cloth diaper neatly around Eva’s waist. “You know, they do have baby bottles. West told me. If the breast thing isn’t working.”
“Let me try,” I reached for her, and West carried her to me in the bed. I let him prop me up against some pillows. “I need to go to the bathroom, but I can’t let her starve for another minute.”
“You can’t feed her if you’re uncomfortable. Go to the bathroom,” he took her back. “She likes when I rock her. She’ll be okay for a few minutes.”
I hurried to the bathroom, amazed that my body (or Annie’s body) could still function after such an ordeal. I knew that women gave birth every day, and it was perfectly natural, but I never expected to feel so… normal… after just having a baby.
I returned to the bedroom, finding only West and Eva. “Okay… we’re going to do this together,” West helped me prop my arm up comfortably, and Eva began to cry as he moved her to my arms. “Just… just show her you’re in charge,” he encouraged.
I grinned skeptically. “Do you even know what you’re talking about? She’s not a puppy,” I said. He gave me a mockingly defensive face before lowering his lips to mine.
“Okay, do it your way, Mrs. Perry.”
It took an hour, but finally we… clicked. Uncomfortable as the entire process was for me, I understood why some women chose to breastfeed… the bonding was palpable between us, and the idea that I was providing her with food from my own body was incredibly gratifying.
“We’re getting nowhere with Troy.” West said as we lowered the sleeping baby into the cradle. “He heard Eva crying.”
I moved to the closet, finding a simple, green dress with wide shoulder straps and apron skirt. Slipping it over my head, I was grateful for the forgiving waist. “I want to talk to him-…,”
“Absolutely not.”
“You can stay with Eva, Logan can stand right outside the door. I’ll be safe. He’s tied up, right?”
“We need to go to the mainland, get you to the hospital with Eva…,”
“We will, just let me talk to him, now,” I ordered, my words delicate but firm. “I deserve that.”
He straightened, facing me squarely. “Do not let him touch you.”
I sighed, moving into his open arms. He smoothed my hair, kissing the top of my head. “The dreams started again. I had one… in a pub, in 1790. I was Spanish.”
“Isa,” he murmured, and I could feel him smile against my forehead. “You were… a dancer.”
“You were a… rake.
”
His chest shook as he laughed silently over the sleeping baby.
Chapter Thirteen
We ate from the groceries in the refrigerator, West preparing eggs and sausage for us all with fresh orange juice. I watched him move around the kitchen with ease, talking about the year that he spent in 1977.
“I fixed cars, and alternated between trying to find Troy and guarding Laurel. I tried to find Julie… I even went to her father, asking about her. He told me that he didn’t have a daughter. She was just… gone. As if she’d never existed.”
“I could only remember the first few numbers of the coordinates from 1977; it took months for me to piece together the rest and locate the fountain in Cleveland. Troy must have been doing the same. I found him in Cleveland minutes after I traveled. We fought, and I sent him to my house. I knew I could call Logan in time to warn you.”
“But you didn’t know that Violet was there.”
He brushed his hands against a towel.
“How long has Logan known that I’m…,” Violet looked down at her plate, unable to finish her sentence.
“I told him that I… suspected... that you were immortal. On the phone, when I called, Logan told me that Violet had driven into town. He didn’t tell me she was at my house.”
“He didn’t know you’d sent Troy there,” Violet defended him softly.
I met West’s eyes, gathering a plate of food. “Thank you. I’ll take this out to Logan.”
“Roam.”
Looking back at him, I watched his severe expression. “Don’t let Logan leave your side.”
“I know.”
The shack behind the cottage had been obliterated during the 1999 hurricane, but it was new and freshly painted to match the house in 1955. Logan stood outside the door, staring out over the ocean.
I padded to him through the sand, and he caught me approaching from the corner of his eye. “You’re not going in there.”
“I already talked to West. He’s okay with it.” I passed him the plate of food.
“Bullshit.”
“Go ask him.”
“Roam,” he shook his head disgustedly. “What purpose will this serve?”
“I need to look him in the eye and say something.”
“You spend seven lifetimes running from him, and now you want to tell him something. Girls.” He puffed the air from his lips in irritation, a characteristic that was so Logan that it was comforting to me, coming from a stranger’s body.
“I will go in there.”
Logan stepped aside, holding his palm up toward the door. “Go on. I’m right here. Don’t touch him.”
“No problem.”
I pulled the door open, blinking as I tried to adjust to the slatted light coming in through the cracks of the wood. I focused on him right away; hands and feet tied, and tied again to a metal stake attached to the shed. A dirty, white rag was stuffed in his mouth, tied around the back of his head, taut, so that his cheeks were lifted slightly. I thought of the Joker character in Batman.
The cold hutch reeked of urine. I coughed and turned to Logan quickly. “Take the gag off him.”
Logan started to argue, but instead shoved the plate of food at me and walked to Troy, untying the rag. He fixed his eyes on me, never once looking in Logan’s direction. “If you start shouting, it goes back on,” Logan warned, and then looked at me. “I’m on the other side of the door.”
“Okay.”
Logan stepped out, and I backed against the wooden door, my fingers looped through the door handle.
“Well,” his eyes swept over me from head to toe. His voice was jagged, as if he needed water. “Blonde. My favorite.”
“You can stop being gross and weird,” I crossed my arms over my chest, glaring at him. “You sound like the corny villain in a low-budget movie.”
“Oh, and there she is. I guess I expected the demure, fifties housewife. But then there’s her tongue.”
“You lost, Troy. It’s over. My child is born. She’s healthy, and beautiful, and she’s fulfilled the prophecy-…,”
“…you think she has. Kill me, see if it takes.”
“I need to know about the doors first. To the other world.”
“Join the club.”
I softened, releasing the door handle and taking a tentative step toward him. My heart thundered against the inside of my ribs. “Let Violet have her mother back. And then… it’s over. Otherwise, they’re going to do… awful things to you,” I couldn’t bring myself to say exactly what West planned to do, but I was sure he guessed.
“What, like tie me up, starve me, and let me rot in my own piss?”
I covered my mouth with my hand, cringing involuntarily. “I can make things better,” I said quietly, under my breath so that Logan couldn’t hear me through the door.
He glared at me. “You always have.”
I gathered all of my courage, staring at him. “I want you to know that I’ve had dreams about our life. In the cold castle.”
Recognition flickered for a nanosecond in his ice blue eyes, encouraging me.
“And since I have, you don’t… scare me… like you used to. Knowing that you once… loved me, it makes you seem… weak.”
He pulled at the ropes suddenly, almost making it to his feet. I choked a scream, slamming my back against the door.
“Asher saved your long, pretty neck with his spell.”
Now we’re getting somewhere. “His spell?”
“I will tell you everything, only because you are about to experience the worst pain of your life. It’ll destroy you- and maybe West. Hopefully.”
I swallowed hard, trying to ignore his ominous threats. “Okay, tell me.”
He lowered back to the ground, facing me. “You were sixteen years old when you came to my castle. I expected a virgin bride, but what I got was the kingdom whore.”
His eyes disturbed me; I looked away.
“My brother wanted my place on the throne. He conspired to get it, believing the quickest way was between your legs.”
“This is the oldest cliché in history.”
“Oh, there’s a twist.” He scraped his eyes over me in repugnance. “You weren’t just fucking me over. You fucked my brother over, too. With my knight. You believed you could turn my own army against me. Treasonous bitch.”
“Can you stop calling me names, please?”
“Asher was West’s father. Before I could put you both to death, he conjured some dark magic to split the universe in two. West had no memory of the world- I did.”
“He was a wizard?” I asked of Asher; Troy shrugged.
“Magician, enchanter, warlock- I don’t know what he was. He did this to all of us, all to save his son.”
West. I looked toward the house. “But Asher wasn’t immortal. He died in a fire.”
“Oops.” He shrugged at me, tilting his head slightly. “Why do you want to help little Curly in there find her mother?”
“Because I know what it’s like to lose my own mother.”
“She doesn’t age… Laurel, you know,” he sneered, his lips curling in a filthy smile that reminded me of the pool at the high school. “She’s been twenty-eight years old since I took her over, in 2003.”
I processed his cruel banter, suddenly feeling light-headed.
“Don’t you wonder what your hero will think of her? They are still married… but that’s just a technicality in 2012, right?”
Knotting my fingers together, I stared him down. “Tell me where the doors are.”
He met my eyes. “You saw the castle. What did you see?”
“Ice! Frozen water! Arctic cold.”
“What else did you see? How did you get from the ground, up to the castle?”
I had no idea what he was talking about; my dream of the castle was indoors, once in a grand hall, and once in a ballroom. “Just tell me!” I shouted, frustrated, wanting desperately to go back to Eva and hold her in my arms.
He gave a half
-laugh, staring at the ceiling. “The fountain doors were made by mortals- mere men. So are the doors to our world.”
“Your world,” I hissed, shivering. “My world is any world without you in it.”
I turned on my heel, throwing the door open. The bright, morning light blinded me. Before I could step out, he called me.
“Roam, whatever happened to Julie?”
Logan waited, most likely having heard our entire conversation. I glanced at Troy’s hideous smile once more before hurrying out of the putrid shed. “Gag him,” I cried, running back to the cottage.
The sky turned dark within an hour. Rain began to slash at the cottage in sideways sheets as I fed Eva. West diligently worked at soaking the dirty laundry in the bathtub filled with detergent. “We’ll go across as soon as it stops raining,” he called from the bathroom.
I heard Violet in the kitchen, cursing every so often as she tried to prepare something for the four of us to eat for lunch. She’d borrowed a pair of hip-hugging capris and blouse from Annie’s closet, complaining about our height difference.
Sitting on the bed gazing at Eva, I touched her delicate nose, sighing. “I don’t want to stay here, West. I want to bring her… home. We’ll make it work- I’ll go away with you.”
“We don’t know if the prophecy has been fulfilled. The numbers are still here.” His sleeves were rolled up past his elbows, clearly revealing the numbers in the bathroom light.
“We have to feed him.” I rocked the baby in my arms, lifting my eyes to his. “We can’t starve him. I can’t know he’s just out there… rotting. Indefinitely.”
“Do you know what he’s done to you? To me- to our child?” He stood up, brushing his wet hands on a towel. “This is not the first time I’ve held our child in my arms, Roam. It’s the first time I’ve held our living child in my arms.”
I winced, gripping her tightly to me. “I just want to… end this. I just want to… go home,” the overwhelming need to cry hit me with such force, I could barely keep from doubling over. He hurried to me, taking Eva and gently placing her in the cradle before gathering me into his arms.
“I understand… it’s been non-stop for the past two days… you just went through so much, baby,” he pressed my face against his chest while I cried silently, trying not to wake Eva.
Fall (Roam Series, Book Two) Page 11