Betrayal: The Awakening

by Kira Hillins

  “How do you know?” Sowards asked.

  “That’s where he told me he was going,” she replied guiltily. “I had no idea Jack would follow me to England. And I never even gave Mason a thought outside what happened in Manzanita.”

  “So you’re saying you never knew Jack was in England?”

  “No.”

  “And you never called him from a small town near the Scotland border to let him know you were okay?”

  Warning whistles sounded off in her head. What else did these agents know? How did they know where she was? What if they went there and discovered the castle? If it’s where Tristan went, she needed to get to him fast, before they did.

  “I…yes…I remember now. I…” The words were stuck in her throat. She stuttered like a guilty suspect attempting to cover her tracks.

  “He waited for you in your hotel room for three days before you called. You told him you were fine and he shouldn’t worry.” Claire glanced at her phone then back to Anna. “You refused to tell Jack you were with Tristan. Why?”

  Anna was feisty enough to walk out her door and catch the first flight to England without kicking them out first. She needed to warn Tristan. She needed his help, because her thoughts of where Jack might be wandered to Madeline. If that was true, he was in a heap of danger.

  “Almost three weeks without a word, and you don’t find that strange?” Claire asked, looking a little pale.

  “I’ll do anything to help you find Jack. Anything.”

  “I believe you.” Sowards strode to the front door. “We need to go now, Claire.”

  Claire looked quite vexed. Her partner was leaving without detaining the number one lead in their investigation. She gave Anna a quick nod. “We’ll be in touch.”

  The moment the door closed behind the agents, Anna locked it and ran down the hall. She grabbed her backpack from the corner of her room then stuffed a few outfits inside. She changed out of her hospital scrubs, slipped on a pair of jeans and a navy blue pullover, then fled for the kitchen.

  Passport, car keys, purse, she had everything she needed to leave the country again. This time she knew where to go. With hiking boots on her feet, a heavy coat zipped around her, and thick gloves in pocket, she was ready to tackle the dreaded mountain and find her way into the arms of her lover, who was going to be furious that she’d come.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Last to Fall

  Anna had rehearsed everything she would say to Tristan when she got to the castle. She had come up with several things, used them in various phrases and sentences, until she had a short and simple plea.

  “I’m sorry, but I had to come. My…almost fiancé came to England to find me. He was taken, or abducted by Madeline. Probably. So I’m here to plead for your help, for you to find him and take him home where he belongs. Then you and I can be together.”

  This was a stupid idea. She was supposed to stay home, safe, and out of his way, just in case Madeline showed herself. Now Tristan was about to learn she’d been involved with a man for several years. It shouldn’t matter now. He’d said his good-bye. Even in the event of Madeline’s demise, she could tell by his words, he never planned on coming back.

  As she pulled to the curb near the phone booth, she smiled. Dusk had settled on the small town. She was happy to see there were people, alive and well here.

  Anna grabbed her backpack from the backseat and headed toward the mountain. An older couple strolled toward her. They smiled as they went inside the local pub. A scent of grilled pork permeated the air. Her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten since this morning, but she couldn’t stop now. With no hotels in this quaint place, she was hoofing it now.

  The edge of town came fast. Hunger forgotten, Anna started out through the giant field toward the mountain. It seemed so far away, farther than what she remembered. The field looked eerie with the full moon and the light from her flashlight shining on the ground. This moment reminded her of a horror movie where werewolves and vampires stalked their prey. A beautiful maiden, dress half torn by sharp talons, neck wounded from razor-sharp canines, ran for her life, hoping to stay alive long enough for sunrise. Movies like that never ended well.

  Shoving the scary thoughts to the back of her mind, she trekked on. It didn’t matter what happened from this point. If it was the last thing she’d do, she would reach the top of this mountain.

  She scanned the darkened path. Glad to have found it so easily, she sighed. The hike would soon get tough. She calculated five or six hours if she pushed herself hard enough. By the time she reached the top, her muscles would be sore. She’d probably have scratches and bruises, but hopefully not as bad as her last experience with this mountain.

  She unsheathed her gloves from her pocket, slid them on, and then started up the steep incline. Her boots were worthless. They were just as comfortable as her leather nurse’s shoes, but they lacked traction. Hiking didn’t always consist of jagged rocks, and mud that worked like quicksand, but this was ridiculous. This couldn’t be the same path as last time.

  She leaned over to catch her breath. Maybe she should give up. She should go back to the bottom and find another route, but she’d already come so far. She pressed on, hoping the path would level out to a suitable hiking trail, but it just kept getting steeper. She clung to the jagged rocks, one ledge after the other, lifting her body up until her arms and legs grew weak.

  The wind blew cold, and the path steepened. Jack should never have come to England. If he’d just stayed home like I told him, I wouldn’t be in this predicament.

  She leaned against the cliff and closed her eyes, out of breath. No time to climb back down and find another way. She pulled herself up to the next ledge. Even with the moon shining and the flashlight turned on and tucked inside her pocket, she could barely make out the next hang.

  The air was much thinner than before as she crept up the cliff. The ledges came fewer, and her grasp weakened with her sore muscles, but she continued, knowing when she reached the end of this journey, she’d be in his arms again.

  Clouds covered the moon. It grew biting cold and windy enough that one wrong move would send her flying off the cliff. Now at the point of tears, she wished she’d made time to find another way.

  She was stuck—too weak to climb farther up and too tired to go back down, she tucked her chin to her chest and held on tight. Warm tears flowed. Her nose burned with pain as the wind whipped at her body. She couldn’t hold on for much longer.

  It was hopeless to call out for help, but she mustered up a breath. Maybe she’d get lucky and the wind would carry her voice to the castle. Tristan would hear her call, if he was even there.

  “Help me,” she whispered against the rocks. Idiot. Nobody would hear that. The howling wind beat in her ears as if it coaxed her to let go, to see what happened when she fell against it.

  “Tristan, help me.” She couldn’t find her solid voice. “Yes, Anna. He would hear that one too.”

  Unable to hold on any longer, she slipped from the rocks. She tried to catch the ledge with her boot, but the rock crumbled away. A shrill scream escaped her open mouth as she plunged downward.

  Death was imminent. Her life flashed by, a decent life, fulfilling and successful, for the most part. She’d found love when she thought it wasn’t possible. Now that man, that dark, wonderful man, would never have his cure. On her death, the bloodline would permanently close. She would die knowing she’d loved him. And she would hold on to that love as she breathed her last breath before hitting the earth below.

  She closed her eyes and waited for the painful blow of the ground. But as she braced herself for impact, strong arms caught her. They enveloped her in their safety. The angel with lucid wings had come to save her within inches of the ground.

  Chills spread through her as they flew upward through the frigid night air. In his arms, safe now, breath frantic, she held tight. His eyes were as red as the tapestries on his walls, burning like flames in fire.

&nb
sp; Only darkness would enjoy this fear and adrenaline inside her, and yet, she could tell he despised it. She leaned her head against his chest as he carried her through the front doors of the castle. He carelessly set her down on her feet and she fell on her backside with a grunt.

  He paced the foyer breathing like a man, angry like a lover scorned, and, she was sure, quite annoyed by the delightful look on her face. When he left the room, she scrambled to her feet. She ran to stay close as he ascended the steps two at a time in long, graceful strides.

  “Aren’t you going to say anything?” Her legs shook as she tried to keep up. “Please, talk to me.”

  He stopped. With bared fangs, he grabbed her shoulders and growled. “Damn it, Anna, what the hell were you thinking?” He shook her as he emphasized his words. “If I had not been there to catch you…fuck!”

  “Whoa. I’m sorry.” She stood stunned. He’d never cursed like that before. The man was really pissed. He fled up to the hallway and out of her sight. “Wait! I need your help.”

  With a skip in her step, she ran into the room she’d stayed in before. The balcony window was wide open. She was too late.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and fell back. “Damn it!” He would forgive her after tonight. All he needed was a little time to cool off, and then he’d be fine.

  She curled up on the bed and stared out the window. If he hadn’t caught her in time, her body would be broken on the rocks bleeding while her soul flew away. More importantly, she’d be letting him down and killing Jack in the process—if he wasn’t already dead.

  Climbing the rock cliff was a stupid thing to do. She didn’t blame Tristan for being angry, but he didn’t need to push her away. He was supposed to comfort her in his arms, carry her to bed and make mad passionate love to her for the rest of the night.

  Now that she was here, she might as well recuperate from this horrendous experience—for a little while.

  She closed her eyes for what seemed minutes. When she opened them, the sun shone through the window. That meant Tristan was ensnared in the dark beneath the library. He’d be unable to leave her while she explained why she’d come.

  She leapt to her feet. She ran out into the hallway then took the steps two at a time. The armored suits watched her sprint down the great hall until she came to the archway. The darkness leading into his lair called to her. Without hesitation, she stepped inside.

  She blindly descended the stairs, sliding her fingers along the coarse stone wall to keep her balance until she reached the bottom. Her footsteps echoed as she walked out into the void hands before her, hoping she’d find his touch.

  Nothing was there to catch her, no cold body or warm voice asked her why she’d joined him. She’d memorized the way to his cot. Four steps to the right of the bottom stair, one step forward, and she was there, standing before it.

  She slid her hand along the cot—cold, empty. He hadn’t come back.

  Her heart sank as she backed away. With wet eyes she ascended into daylight. She blinked back tears as she shuffled down the hall, suits of armor hanging their heads, mourning with her as she passed by.

  The evening sun streamed through the stained glass windows. Red and yellow tinted with blue and green streaked across the floor and onto her skin as she went to the front door and opened it.

  A breeze flowed in not frigid like before, but cool and refreshing. She stepped down the long rows of stairs to the ground. Funny she’d never paid any attention to her surroundings the last time she was here.

  As she strode through the courtyard, she was amazed. Light shined on the gray stone pathway leading in a circle around a tall broken statue of a man on a horse. He was stocky and had flowing hair and a beard. She wondered if that was an image of Gerard.

  She walked in a dead garden. No birds sang, and no roses bloomed. Though no people walked with her, she could envision them in lively fashions. They gossiped amongst each other at how strange she looked in her white T-shirt and jeans.

  It was amusing to think of how she might’ve looked if she’d lived back then. A large brown wig, a fake mole painted on the cheek or below the lips. She’d curtsy as she made her way down the path, showing her uplifted cleavage to catch smiles from flirtatious men and frowns from their jealous wives.

  Anna strolled to the edge of the cliff then leaned on the stone fence. The scenery was breathtaking. It was like a painting of a blue horizon. Green hills rolled below as far as the eye could see. To think someone built such a lovely castle so far up on this mountain. It must have been a treacherous feat, one causing pain and despair for the poor workers, but delight for the rich man who’d made it his home.

  With sunset coming, the air became frigid. Her body trembled as she hustled back inside the castle and shut the door with a loud slam. Her eyes begged for sleep, but she had to stay awake.

  She rubbed her face with her palms then patted her numb cheeks. She went to the window of her room and stared outside in awe. As if the sun was blanketed by a curtain lowering after a staged play, the last rays of the sun bowed to the shadowing hills. Then, the door to the room creaked open.

  Her heart quickened as Tristan came to stand near the fireplace, staring, breath slow and even. Then he shook his head. She couldn’t let him stay mad, not when she was so pleased to see his handsome face.

  It started with a timid step, but worked into a bound, and then she leapt into his arms. She held him tight around his neck. When he wrapped his arms around her, her body ached. He was no longer angry. They were no longer apart.

  “I’m so sorry, Tristan.”

  “I know.”

  “I just missed you so much.”

  “Anna.” He leaned back with a grin. “We have only been apart for a week.”

  “But it felt like forever.”

  Just a simple, gentle press of his lips and a whirlwind swept through her. If she could stay like this in his arms for eternity, she would, but he let her go.

  “This castle is not safe for you. If you are to stay with me, I will need to find us a new place to hide. It will be like that every night until I figure out how to deal with Madeline.” He made his way to the window. “Stay in this room. I will not be gone long.”

  “Wait.” She followed him to the balcony. “Take me with you.”

  He raised her palm to his lips. “I promise I will return by morning. You can rest in my arms and tell me everything on your mind.”

  He lowered her hand and let go. It was like saying good-bye to him all over again as he opened the window to the balcony.

  “Tristan.” She shivered from the rush of cold air. “I love you.” She slid her arms around his neck and held him close. “No matter what happens, don’t ever forget that.”

  He brushed his lips against hers. “I swear on my life, I will return to you. We will stay together from now on.” He palmed her cheek. “If a soul exists within this body, I pledge it to you on my promise.”

  It felt wrong to let him go alone in the dark, where evil lurked around him, and to evade the one who had pined after him for centuries—his maker.

  “Be careful,” she whispered, knowing he’d hear her call and hoping he’d listen. With one knee on the banister and the other foot holding his weight, he peered back inside. With a nod that he would take care, he flashed her one last glance, and then jumped from the balcony.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Incognito

  People stared as he walked down the narrow aisle between the seats of the plane. Dressed in a long, dark hooded cloak Gerard looked like Death himself, and by the anxious looks he received from the passengers, they probably thought the same thing.

  How he loved the fear emanating off them. He could smell the emotion a mile away, sometimes two. And every so often, when the wind blew in the right direction, four.

  To be in closed quarters with this scent would drive him mad. He thrived on it, finding within him superiority, or at least, that’s how he’d felt a few hundred years ago. Hell, even
back then he’d enjoyed Death’s game, deciding whether the living stayed alive or died a certain, messy death.

  Indeed, he used to be the Deathbringer, without all the long, bony fingers. The night was his playground, though he hadn’t played in a very long time. He’d found an honest life more becoming, more challenging. Though he’d found a way to live like the humans who couldn’t take their eyes off him still, he was quite superior to them. A million times stronger than the lot of them, he could carry this plane on his back and then lure these people into cheering as he dropped the great metal beast off a high cliff, with them in it, of course.

  The Devil’s lure?—he snickered at the idea. No, he was just extraordinarily handsome, finding it easy to woo any person he desired by just a mere grin and a wink of his eye. Too many times he’d witnessed man attempting to lure the female to his bed, but only getting as far as a simple greeting or a slap in the face, sometimes both.

  As grander as he was, these creatures would always have one up on him. He would always envy the one thing he could never do, and that was walk in the sunlight. It was the only thing that made him inferior, an unwanted weakness he’d eternally carry. Unfortunately, as he found his seat near the back of the plane, he was weakened by the very element.

  When he sat, he grumbled. Dark sunglasses teetered at the end of his nose as he closed the shade in the small oval window. It was difficult, trudging in dark, heavy clothes, boots unforgiving to his feet. His heel rubbed every time he took a step. Then, this wasn’t the first time he’d left the shadows of night in this same armor.

  As the plane took to flight, he wished he’d stayed in his quaint house on the quiet cul-de-sac. He’d lived there for years, watching as his past crept up on him, unwillingly, of course. If only things never changed, he could’ve stayed in his basement forever.

  The storm brewed overseas. It was time he tamed the waters, though he was unsure of how he’d do it since it wasn’t any of his concern. But it had to be done. The tragedy had gone on long enough.