Running away seemed like the best solution, among a selection of choices in which each seemed equally as dire as the next. Again, I tossed over the thought of escape. Where could I go?
“Charlotte, enough. Release me. We need to talk.” Lucas's voice interrupted my racing thoughts, his tone firm.
“What's the point?” I questioned mulishly.
“This has gone on for far too long. We have given you time to come to terms with what's happened, but I can see that was a mistake. Our son is alive, Charlotte. Allowing yourself to sink further into melancholy is not helping anyone.”
“Allowing myself to sink into melancholy?” I repeated in disbelief. “You don't think I've earned the right to a bit of melancholy, after what happened to me?” I didn't know whether to be hurt or angry in the face of Lucas's accusation.
“Release me, Charlotte. Let me speak with you, face-to-face.”
“What if I don't want to?”
“Charlotte, please.”
Hesitating a moment longer, I huffed out an angry breath before I acquiesced and stood up. “Fine.”
In seconds, Lucas had appeared from the orb I'd created on the forest floor and I watched him warily, waiting for him to speak.
“You've become much faster at bringing us back,” he commented mildly.
“Yeah, well, I had plenty of practice,” I retorted bitterly. “While I was being held captive by Archangelo. Before he convinced me I was insane.”
Lucas sighed. “Charlotte, look at me,” he demanded in a low voice.
Begrudgingly, I lifted my gaze to meet his. He was as handsome as I remembered, his features composed when he gazed down at me. It occurred to me that our relationship had somehow shifted gears in the interim. There was no longer the rush of desire I'd once experienced when I looked at him. Now, he seemed more like a beloved best friend. The love was still there, but it had morphed during the long months we'd been separated, mellowed to the point where I realized that though I still loved him, I was no longer in love with him. Confused by this sudden revelation, I glanced away, uncomfortable.
“Charlotte, don't try and conceal your feelings. I know how you feel about Conal. I welcome the fact that you've moved on, found love with him,” Lucas said calmly, crossing his arms over his chest. “It's natural for your stronger emotions regarding me to fade. What I'm more concerned about, is the state of your mental health and the very erratic thoughts which seem to be rushing through your mind like a swift-flowing river.”
“Can you blame me?” I erupted into anger. “Why would I want to continue fighting this war? You're gone. Our baby is gone. I don't even want to think about what that bastard did to me—”
“I know exactly what he did to you, Charlotte,” Lucas interrupted. “I was there, every minute, even though I couldn't contact you.” He stepped closer. “I was with you all the time, my love. Can you imagine how I felt, not being able to stop his abuse, knowing what he did was without your true knowledge of your situation?”
“Probably not as bad as I do!” I shrieked. “Considering it was happening to me!”
Silence descended between us and I fought back tears. Lucas watched me wordlessly for a moment, before he took another step forward, drawing me into his arms and holding me close as I cried against his shoulder.
“Charlotte, I would have stopped it, if I had the power to do so. Don't ever believe we abandoned you, not any one of us. I know you are finding this incredibly difficult, but you can overcome it. You're far stronger than you believe.”
“No, I'm not,” I muttered. “I'm frightened, and I'm lost and I'm alone.”
“No, my love,” Lucas demurred, rubbing my back. “Even in those darkest hours, when none of us could find a way to reach you, you were never, ever alone.”
“But you couldn't do anything to stop it.”
“Charlotte, listen to me.” Lucas captured the tip of my chin, tilting my face to his. “I couldn't stop what Archangelo did to you, that's very true. I wish it were different, but there is no way of changing it. But I do want to help you find our son.”
My eyes widened. “You can do that?”
Lucas dipped his head in assent.
Something in his expression caught my attention, and I narrowed my eyes. “What's the catch?”
Lucas shrugged, the movement deliberately casual. “No catch. I can help you retrieve our son from the Realm.”
There was a flicker of emotion in his midnight eyes, which he quickly tamped down. It was enough to warrant questioning him more extensively. “Tell me the truth, Lucas. I'm not even going to consider it if you don't.”
Lucas traced a gentle finger across my jaw. “I can help you. But it will result in Nememiah banishing me from contacting you.”
“For how long?”
There was a long pause. “Forever.”
“Why?”
“I would be crossing the limitations of what I should do, to assist you,” Lucas explained. “Nememiah will take umbrage at my actions if I do as I intend.”
“Forever?”
Lucas smiled. “The others will still be here to help you. It would only be myself who was punished.”
“What does this punishment involve?” I questioned. Not being able to talk to me was one thing, but this sounded like something far more serious.
“Nothing you need worry about,” Lucas responded lightly, but there was an underlying tension in his voice.
“Lucas…”
He leaned down, kissing my forehead softly. “You no longer need me in your life, Charlotte. You have Conal, and my Kiss consider you a daughter, a sister.” His voice sounded wistful.
“But what's going to happen to you?” I demanded. He was deliberately avoiding the answer, only serving to increase my anxiety regarding what would happen to him if he disobeyed Nememiah.
“What happens to me doesn't matter, Charlotte,” Lucas responded evenly. “What matters is returning our son to where he should be – in your arms.”
I lifted my chin and stared up at him defiantly. “I won't consider it. Not unless you tell me what happens to you.”
Lucas released his grip, turning away before he replied. “I would be exiled to the netherworld. A place where my consciousness will remain intact, but I would have no contact with anyone for the rest of eternity.”
I crossed my arms. “No. I won't consider it.”
Lucas turned back towards me, determination apparent in the set of his jaw. “Charlotte, please. Let me do this. I must return our son to you so that you can protect him.”
“No,” I repeated, sounding a little more frantic. “There has to be another way.” The thought of what Nememiah would do to Lucas – it was unthinkable. Knowing who he was, who he'd been in life – being abandoned for the rest of eternity with nobody and nothing around him was impossible to consider.
“There is no other way.” Lucas's voice was hard, his eyes filled with determination. “And it makes no difference, Charlotte. I'm dead; you know I'm dead.”
I slumped onto the ground, contemplating the lack of options. The desire to have my son back was supreme – but the price Lucas would pay for it was unthinkable.
Lucas crouched beside me. “Charlotte, let me do this. Let me return our son to the safety of his mother's arms.”
“Let me think about it for a while.”
Lucas captured my cheek against his palm. “I will always love you, Charlotte. Even when I can no longer reach you – you will remain in my memory for eternity. I will hold fast to that memory when I am gone and my son has been returned safely. Let me do this for you.”
Blinking away tears, I let his image dissolve away.
Chapter 14: Truth
The sun was setting on the horizon when Conal found me. The day had passed in an incessant blur of worry, pondering Lucas's offer and finding another dozen reasons why I couldn't accept it. Lucas had remained quiet, giving me the opportunity to reach out to the other spirits, asking for their advice.
If anything, what they explained made me even more desperate to find an alternate option. Allowing Lucas to do this would be the spirit equivalent of sending him to purgatory. Remembering the numerous discussions we'd conducted regarding his soul and finding peace in the afterlife, it seemed disobeying Nememiah would put him in danger of exactly what he'd feared – an eternity of endless nothingness, where his consciousness would remain, but he had nothing and no-one to provide him with any company.
As much as I wanted my son back, I couldn't let Lucas make this sacrifice. I still loved him, couldn't bear the prospect of him being completely ostracized for eternity. He couldn't share life with his son as he should have, but I'd imagined him taking an active role in our lives through our spiritual connection. Our son had angel blood; he would surely be able to connect with Lucas as I did, when he got older. How would I look my son in the eye, and tell him what his father had sacrificed to save him? How could I take away the only contact our son would have with his father? And yet, if we didn't take this course of action… would I get my son back at all?
I watched Conal put down the basket he'd been carrying and spread a blanket over the ground. He dropped onto it and smiled, holding his arms out wide. I scooted across immediately and fell into his embrace, letting him gather me close as I clung to his warmth and strength.
“You've been up here all day.”
I grimaced. “I'm surprised everyone left me alone for so long.”
Conal smiled ruefully. “Not exactly alone, Sugar,” he admitted. He inclined his chin, indicating an area in the distance. “Nick has been camped out over there, Nissa has been a little further up the hill and Ripley has been keeping watch from near camp.” He kissed my forehead. “There was no way I was letting you out of sight, despite you obviously requiring some time to yourself.”
“I was terrible to Ripley this morning,” I admitted.
“He's forgiven you.”
Twisting in Conal's arms, I stared up into his dark eyes. “I spoke to Lucas.”
Other than a slight lift of his eyebrows, Conal remained composed. “Ripley told me. Said Lucas has an idea about how to get your baby back.”
I rolled my eyes. “Is nothing in my life private?”
Conal brushed his lips over mine. “We're all worried about you.”
I lapsed into silence, thinking over Lucas's proposal again. “I want my baby back so much; it's tearing me apart inside. But I can't let Lucas do it. I can't allow him to give up what little he has left, by doing this. If he helps me, he's banished. Forever.”
“I agree with you.”
I was stunned by the immediate agreement, given the somewhat strained relationship which had existed between Lucas, Conal and me in the past. He continued to gaze down at me, his expression unfathomable. “Charlotte, he's the father of your child. I can understand why you don't want him to do this.”
“I can't see what other choice I have.”
Conal brushed at my curls, pushing them away from my face. “Why don't you talk to Nememiah? Ask him to help.”
I straightened up, pulling out of his arms and sitting cross-legged on the blanket. “What do I do if he tells me he won't help?”
“You won't know if you don't ask,” Conal countered.
I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth, biting it pensively and Conal reached out, drawing me back into his arms. “Think about it. Don't make a decision right now, just give it some thought.” He leaned forward and snagged the basket, dragging it closer. “Right now, you need to eat something.”
“I'm not hungry.”
Conal got that determined look, the one which meant he wasn't going to take no for an answer and I huffed out a frustrated breath, watching as he unpacked the basket. “You're far too thin, and Nonny's determined to get some meat on your bones.” He started to place containers on the blanket. “Jacket potatoes with sour cream, fried chicken, green salad, sourdough rolls, corn cobs and I believe,” he handed me the last container, “this one has pecan pie. No fresh cream, unfortunately, due to our current situation. Epi is so damn busy keeping the enchantments fresh, and dealing with all the day-to-day requirements, we're on basic rations.
I surveyed the range of containers. “Doesn't seem too basic.”
“Well, hell, Charlotte, we have twenty-five witches and fourteen wizards in our group now. They aren't much for fighting, but they're handy in others ways. Even so, they're hard pressed to keep everything up and running for three thousand people,” Conal explained with a grin.
My stomach rumbled ominously. “I guess I am hungry,” I admitted.
Conal smiled. “Good. Dig in.” He handed me a plate and cutlery from inside the basket. “Nonny will expect these containers to go back empty, so you'd better start eating.”
I was amused, despite my overwhelming sadness. “Conal, there's no way we can eat all of this.”
“Eat what you want, Sugar. You might surprise yourself.”
We settled into a comfortable silence while we ate. Conal sat cross-legged opposite me and he pulled two cans of Coca-Cola from the basket, handing me one. “Bet you missed this.”
I tugged open the ring pull and took a long gulp. “Actually, I didn't miss a thing. Hard to miss something when you don't remember anything about your real life.”
Conal paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. “I wasn't trying to lead you into discussing what happened.”
“I know,” I responded quietly. “Maybe it would help if I did talk about it.” I dropped the plate onto the blanket and clasped my hands around my knees, all thought of food forgotten.
Conal put his own plate down. “If you want to talk, I'll listen.” He leaned forward and grasped my waist, using his incredible strength to drop me down gently between his legs. “Might be better if you're not facing me,” he murmured against my ear. “Just talk about whatever you want to.”
I leaned back against his chest, safe and cherished in his arms. “He made me feel so dirty,” I whispered, keeping my attention firmly focused on the trees in the distance. “All the time; even when I was under the impression I was his— wife… I was never comfortable with him.”
Conal kept quiet, tracing the faint markings on my arms with the pads of his thumbs. Feeling a little more confident, I continued. “He frightened me from the beginning, when I woke up after my supposed illness. When I first met him— he was so— arrogant.” I trembled, remembering when Archangelo first strode into the bedroom and announced he was my husband. “He held my hand and I was frightened because I was still so disorientated. He pointed to the rings on my finger and told me I was his bonded mate. Everything he did, everything he said was built on the illusion that I was in love with him. He introduced me to Bran, told me he'd been my personal physician since I was a child.” I shifted in Conal's arms, needing to see his eyes as I spoke. “They were all I had to trust in, all I could believe – I didn't know anything else. Anyone else.”
Conal's expression was calm, his eyes betraying nothing. “I don't blame you, Sugar. I wouldn't ever blame you; you know that, don't you?”
I dipped my head, the small movement hesitant. “The longer I was with him, the more I knew something wasn't right. I had so many doubts, I was so insecure. He tried to keep up the façade of being a loving husband, but there were so many times when he lost his temper and I saw the real Archangelo. He built such a web of lies around our supposed relationship, he couldn't keep them all straight.” I plucked anxiously at the fringe on the edge of the blanket. “Things he was saying began to strike me as strange. I think in my heart, I knew he was lying to me, but I couldn't make sense of it. I had no parameters on which to base my suspicions, because nothing existed from my life before him.”
“You must have been terrified,” Conal whispered.
“Nissa was the one person I could rely on. I didn't realize it at the time, but looking back – I think she was the only person I did completely trust. Aethelwine terrified me, Bran was intent on filling me full
of those damn drugs, the Drâghici kept looking at me as if I'd be a particularly delicious snack, even though they supposedly didn't drink human blood. Everyone surrounding me had an ulterior motive – except for Nissa.” I glanced up and met his eyes. “She saved me.”
Conal drew me closer and kissed me, his lips barely a whisper against mine. “I owe her more than I can ever repay, for bringing you back to me.”
“Do you really want me? Even after what I did with Archangelo?” The self-loathing was evident in my voice, even to my own ears. It was a worry I'd harbored constantly over the past few days and even when Conal had reassured me last night, I still hadn't truly believed him.
Conal's eyes grew stormy, and he brushed a thumb across my chin. “You didn't do it, Charlotte. He did it to you.” He drew in a ragged breath, keeping his gaze on mine. “Nothing has changed about the way I feel about you. Nothing. Archangelo raped you. He took away your right to say yes or no,” he said quietly, “and he had sex with you. No emotion, no romance, no love. Just sex. Rape.” Conal brushed his lips over mine again, the touch electrifying. “When you and I,” he smiled softly against my mouth, “when we get together, I'll be making love to you. And you'll be making love to me.” His eyes filled with passion. “There's no comparison, Sugar. I want you. Don't ever doubt it.”
I gazed up at him, my heart thumping erratically as I took in every feature of his handsome face. In the semi-darkness, I could see the outline of his strong jaw, the earnestness in his expression as he watched me. And I could see the love and adoration in his eyes. “Make love to me now,” I demanded breathlessly.
He was obviously startled, his eyebrows lifting. “Charlotte—”
I drew closer, needing him to hold me tight. “Please. Make love to me. My whole world has gone to hell, my baby is missing, he made me feel so awful. Please, for five minutes, make it all go away and make love to me.”
Conal smiled, despite his uncertainty. “Sweetheart, if I make love to you, I sure as hell hope I can make it last longer than five minutes.” His expression grew serious again. “You don't have to prove a thing to me. Jerome—” Conal frowned, inhaling deeply, “he told me what was done to you, said it might take you a while to recover.”
Knowledge Protects Page 10