by Tara Brown
She shakes her head. “That’s from Lucifer. His blood is your blood this time.”
I frown. “What? No, I was born to a virgin.”
She smiles. “Maybe she wasn’t a virgin. Maybe he raped her or was his lover. He is known to enjoy both. I can feel the stain of him on you. It's not evil—it's just him. Now that Willow's protection is off of you, I can feel it.”
I sigh and wipe away the tears. “Can you break the handfast?”
She looks sick. Her breathing increases as panic and fear fill her expression. She nods. “Yup. He can't be touching you though.”
Constantine kisses my cheek and pulls away.
She grabs a candle. It's black.
“Is there any cost I should know about?” I remember the discussions we've had on costs.
She looks like she's going to cry but shakes her head. She isn’t making me feel confident. “Nothing I can think of. You know Wyatt has the evil he ate. You know the tracking is going to stop. I can't think of anything else. It hurts.” Her voice sounds broken.
I shrug. “Can't be worse than anything else I've ever done or eaten or suffered through.”
“I would expect pain. I've seen it done once. It was bad.”
She lights the candle with her breath. It's a black candle. It lights up the dark room.
There's a knock at her door as she lights it. “Wanna bet that's your boyfriend?”
I furrow my brow. “Huh?”
She grins. “He can sense you're here. I bet he knows why. Why else would you come here? He probably has been following you for weeks.” She has no idea.
The door shakes with the banging.
“He's going to break the door down.” Constantine walks toward it.
“He will be able to see you, vampire. I can't cloak you. Only her and me.”
He looks back at me. His dark eyes consume me, and then he's smoke. The smoke trickles out the window to the right.
She looks at me. “Ready?”
I nod. I'm terrified. My hand is shaking in hers.
She kisses my hand and pours the wax from the black candle over it. I wince from the pain of the burning wax.
She blows the wax with her mouth, speaking something in a low mumble. The wax hardens. She holds my hand and closes her eyes. She chants. I've seen Willow and her crazy friends do it before. She squeezes my hand. The pain starts there.
I let out a scream and flinch. It's sudden, and I don’t know how to deal with the intensity. I squirm and try to get away, but her magic holds me.
The pain is like having my fingers pulled off slowly. She picks the black wax off and drops it onto the coffee table. It feels like she is skinning my hand, but the skin is attached to my heart. I scream until my voice is gone, and even then manage to make noise. My eyes burn from the tears flooding them. I try to pull my hand back, but she holds it tightly.
“Please, please, please,” I chant too.
She is crying, just as I am as she chants and picks the wax off.
The door banging has turned to screaming. I only hear it while I inhale for my next scream, which is hoarse and nearly silent. There is thrashing on the doorstep. I hear his pleas. I hear him screaming my name from the front step.
She collapses onto the floor as the last piece of wax drops to the coffee table. She is out of breath and sobbing. The dead fill the room. Their whispers become cries. They're telling me that she has taken in some of my soul. She must consume the wax. It will clear her debt for bringing more darkness to the world.
She picks up the pieces of the wax and puts one into her mouth.
“What are you doing? Don’t listen to them,” I say through the crying.
“Taking my blame for destroying something made of love. The dead are right.”
“Will it hurt you?” I sob.
She nods. “It's the cost.”
“My soul is full of sin. Please don’t. Please, don’t eat that.” I try to grab the pieces of wax but with one small movement of her hand, I am thrown against the wall. “You lied!” I cry out.
She shakes, taking the black wax into her mouth. She heaves as each piece is consumed. Her eyes don’t look like fire anymore. They look dead.
I'm pinned but thrashing to be released. The door knocking and screaming is happening again.
Her tears turn black as the wax.
She coughs on the last piece and collapses onto the table.
I drop to the floor.
My arms and legs twitch from exhaustion and pain. I crawl to her like a wounded dog. My hand is completely burned. It's red and raw. She is barely breathing.
“You can suck our sin from her. She's a witch; you can't kill her. Take the sin.” A man’s voice comes from the door. I look up to see it’s Wyatt in the doorway. He's holding his hand too.
“I'm sorry,” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “I should never have handfasted with you, Rayne. This is all my fault.”
I grab her face and press her stained black lips against mine. The nastiest taste flows from her lips.
“Stop when the taste changes.”
I suck until it tastes sweet, but I don’t stop. I take a long pull.
“STOP!” Wyatt screams.
I jump back and drop her on the coffee table again. She moans and looks at me.
I wipe the black greasy tears from my lips and shudder.
Wyatt helps her up. “You must run.”
She nods and tries to stand.
I'm shaking. The sweetness of her was amazing.
She looks at me. “Run. The guards are down,” she whispers. I look at Wyatt. His eyes betray his guilt.
“What have you done?” I whisper.
He clenches his jaw and looks back at the doorway that's still slightly open. “They came for you at Fitz's. He's dead. He fought my mother for you. A light filled the house and suddenly Fitz was dead.”
I look down and fight the tears that are suddenly choking me. I don’t know why, but the idea that Fitz died fighting for me shakes me. All the bad thoughts I had about him.
“Take me to my lair.” Her words are weak.
I look at her. “Did I do this? Did I hurt you?”
She swallows hard and nods. “You just weakened me. I'll be fine in a couple days. You can't kill me, Rayne. It's okay.” She is out of breath.
I look at the door. “Are they waiting for me outside?”
Wyatt nods once. “I'm so sorry, Rayne. I didn’t know they followed me. Not until it was too late.”
I'm trapped. Panic has set in.
“Hide us. Seal yourself in.” The witch cries. “Call the dead, Rayne. They'll fight for you.”
Wyatt frowns at her and lifts her up. He walks down into the lair and then comes back up. The door closes and seals with a flame.
The air sparkles; the dead want me to run. I shake my head. “I can't.”
Wyatt gives me a weird look. I stand. My sword is in the SUV. I pull the small dagger from my belt and look at him. “What am I expecting?”
He looks grim. “Mother, Father, Maggie, Sarah, and a few others.”
“Your fiancé?”
He nods.
I take a breath. “My memories have your mother doing some very fancy stuff.”
His eyes turn cold. “You don’t stand a chance against her.”
I close my eyes and let the sparkles become the only noise I hear. “Help me. Please fight for me. I don’t know what you can do, but please help me.”
The air gets thick and the sparkles become snaps of light, like electric charges in the air.
“What is this? You have magic?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I don’t know.” I honestly don’t. I need to see Constantine. I need him to remove the stupid memory blocks from me.
The quiet of the house becomes overrun with the sparks. I watch as the front door creaks open. I stand ready with only my small dagger.
His mother walks in, dressed just as she was in the memories I have of her. Leat
her pants and a leather shirt. She looks like someone from The Matrix. She has on big boots and a sword. She smiles at me. Suzy Homemaker is gone. The homicidal schoolteacher has been replaced by a ninja. Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun. Her lips are dark red.
“That's a lot of leather for one lady.” I look behind me to see Constantine. I smile. His jaw is set. He looks pissed.
I glance back at Gretel and smirk. “You want this fight?”
She looks at Wyatt. “Which side are you on, boy?”
He looks lost and scared for the first time ever. His cockiness is replaced by real fear. He shakes his head. “We can end this. Let's help her find the devils and Lucifer.”
She laughs. In the doorway I can see others dressed similarly.
Constantine taps me on the shoulder. “You'll want this.” When I look back at him and take my sword, his eyes flash. Instantly, I'm held by them. Pressure fills my head. I grip it and cry out. Memories flood my mind. Old memories. Things it's impossible for one human to remember.
My sword becomes an extension of my arm.
A low growl slips from my throat. Slowly, I turn my head to the left and make eye contact.
She smiles wide. “Finally. I was wondering when the simpering girl would be gone and the true sin eater would join us.” She glances at Constantine. “Naughty of you, Basarab.”
He speaks through his sneer. “I am going to rip your heart out, Gretel, and dine on it later.”
Wyatt smiles grimly. “She doesn’t have a heart.”
I look at the clear standoff between the three of us and ready myself. I tap the floor with my sword. “Enough. Let's end this.”
She steps down the stairs and opens the door for us. She puts an arm out. “My sentiments exactly.”
She walks out onto the grass where seven of them stand. I walk toward the doorway. Constantine is smoke again. I smirk at Wyatt and pass him my dagger. “You look like your dad did when he was young.”
He frowns. “No, I don’t. I look more like my mother.”
I glance at the man he thinks is his father and laugh. “That's not your father, Wyatt. Your real father was an angel. Your mother used to be a very naughty Van Helsing.”
She glares at me from the grass. I smile back.
His face becomes a storm of anger. He looks at her. “You lied to me?”
She doesn’t lose any of the crazed emotions on her face.
I turn to Wyatt and take his hand. It burns my skin, but I ignore it. “He was a wonderful man.”
He looks sick and confused. “Let's do this.” My heart is breaking for him. I know exactly how he feels.
I nod. Constantine has already become smoke. He appears behind one of the Van Helsings and bites savagely into his neck. I dive through the door and kick my legs off the grass. I leap into the air and kick Sarah in the face. She stumbles back as his mother stabs something into my upper arm. I slash my sword across her forearm.
A whip wraps around my waist. I pull it and use the man who wields it as a shield.
Constantine is eating his second person. Wooden stakes stick out of his shirt, smoking. He rips one out and stabs it into the throat of the person he's eating.
Sarah shoots me with something. It does nothing. I pluck it out of my stomach and throw it at her.
Gretel smashes me in the face with the butt of her sword. My nose breaks. I wince but duck and kick her legs out from under her and return the favor with my fist.
Wyatt is fighting the man who isn’t his father. He looks savage.
A sharp pain stabs in my lower back. I fall from the stabbing sensation.
Sarah has me down. Her dagger is piercing my flesh psychotically. Gretel is bleeding from the nose and lips. She laughs when she sees Sarah attacking me, blood coating Gretel’s teeth.
I try to flip Sarah but I can't. I'm hurt. Wyatt tackles Sarah, pulling her off of me. His own mother stabs her sword into him. He punches Sarah in the face and knocks her out. He rolls off of her and lies in the grass.
I dig my fingers into the grass and try to pull myself to him.
I hear the sparkles and feel the thick air. “HELP ME!” I scream into the night.
Gretel turns back to me and holds her sword up over me. Fire shoots from the ground and makes a circle around me. The flames reach ten feet. I watch as she tries to bring the sword down on me. The flames leap at her. She screams. In the flames I can see Constantine. He is fighting savagely. He looks like he's having a good time.
Through the flames, I see Wyatt crawling to me. He's bleeding from his stomach and clutching it. I scream and reach for him. “HELP HIM! CONSTANTINE, HELP HIM!”
Instantly, Wyatt is gone.
Wyatt and Constantine are gone, and I am lying in a ring of flames. I can breathe knowing they're safe.
Gretel is charred and bleeding. She watches me for a moment. Hatred and disgust are all over her face.
The dead cocoon me in the fire. They fear her. A sharp poke stabs in my arms and a whoosh of air and suddenly I'm flying. It feels like being home.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
His touch is remarkable.
He kneads the skin and rubs the oils in. “Did you miss this?”
I laugh. “That your fingers never tire or remembering who you are?” If I didn’t want him so badly, I could fall asleep.
He coos, “I would like to think my never-ending massages are nothing, compared to the fact that you remember me now.”
I smile peacefully and let the kneading relax me. “Well, asking me during a never-ending massage is a bad idea.”
“You remember it all?” he laughs.
I nod. “I do. I remember being all of them. I remember my first life as Liana with Mother and Father. I remember the second life, when I was Ezara and I lived with my father mostly. I remember my parents challenging God. I remember them telling him to try to live through the pain of sacrificing a child. If he did, they would consider his proposal. I remember being born as Maggie and hearing about the poor boy Jesus. He was born of a virgin and sacrificed by his father in a show of good will. I remember meeting you in the tower and you saving me.”
His hands stop. He presses his body into mine. His warm skin against mine is amazing. “I love you. I have always loved you.”
I open my lips to return the sentence but I cannot. My words get stuck in the truth.
I haven’t always loved him. My body tenses with shame and guilt. He has done everything for me, waited hundreds of years for me, died a thousand deaths every time I die. How do I repay him? Fall in love with a Van Helsing. A child. Just as when my memories reminded me of my love for Constantine, they now betray me and remind me of my love for Wyatt.
His cocky smile and dark-blue eyes burn in my mind. Tears well in my eyes. My heart will be broken, no matter the choice I make.
“What is it?”
I shake my head. “Worried about Mona. The reason we never separated was the Van Helsings. They will take her and make her bait.”
He kisses my neck and I feel disgusting. “I had Tom pick her up yesterday and bring her here.”
I nod. “Thanks.”
“My love, shall we retire to the bedroom?”
I shake my head. “No. You go. I need to see Mona.”
He kisses my back. “She'll be there tomorrow.”
I push my aching body off the bed and wrap the huge blanket around me. He sees my face and lifts my chin. “What is this look?”
I shrug. “Confusion.”
He frowns. “You have your memories. We know all there is to know. We have a year and a half until your twenty-first birthday. We know we have to kill the devils, Lillith, and Lucifer. We know the nixie can take you to her. We know Lucifer is looking for you. We have the answers, my pet. After all this time, we finally have the answers.”
His dark hair and dark eyes help me forget the other reasons I have for not wanting to make love to him. It really is only one reason. One person.
I look down on t
he scars filling in and fading on my arms. “I'm still Rayne. I'm still me. The memories of the other lives can only take so much room in my brain and heart, before the life I have now takes over and becomes the most important.”
He bends his face and kisses my lips. Immediately, tears drip from my eyes. “You love him still?”
I murmur, “I love you too.”
He steps back and walks from the room.
I bend over and cover my face in shame.
I grip my towel and walk out of the massage room, slipping down the hall to my room.
Mona jumps up and runs to me.
I instantly feel better.
I glance over and see Michelle on the bed. She squeals and runs over.
“Oh my God, you guys are both here. I miss you both.”
Michelle smells me. “You smell like citrus and lavender.”
I shrug. “I had a hippie for a mom. What can I say?”
Mona grabs me my fleecy PJs from the closet. “Super creepy how he has all kinds of clothes for you already, huh?” She brings me my clothes. She smiles when she hands me a brand-new pack of granny panties, made of organic unbleached cotton. I know she brought these.
I shake my head. “Not so much. We have been married twice before.”
Michelle raises an eyebrow. “Damn, girl. What the hell are you doing in here?”
My face attempts to brighten and I want to laugh but I feel sick.
Mona sighs. “She still loves Wyatt. Look at that face.”
I moan, “Tell me you two have drama or something, please. Anything. I feel like everything is always about me.”
Michelle jumps on the bed and lies back. “I had priest lovin.”
I gasp and pull on my granny panties and fleecy PJs.
Mona covers her eyes. “No-my-God. Priest lovin? Why?”
She bats her long lashes and grins like the Cheshire cat. “Well, his name is Randolph. He's from Germany. He had only recently become a priest. I was doing my confession and he got a huge boner.” She holds her fingers out in a very large measurement. I grimace. Mona looks horrified. “And I told him he was a sinner. He was wasting the gift God had given him. He got all cute and blushed and said he had never had a woman before. I told him he should try it just once, as a test of his faith. To see if it was really what he wanted.”