****
Peter asked Alexander to take a third trail flanking the ridge from a different angle. “It might take you closer to the nest.”
“Worth checking.” Alexander brought two fingers to his forehead and about-faced, disappearing behind the curve a moment later.
Sprinting toward the top of the ridge, Peter redoubled his pace. As he exited a bend in the trail, he glimpsed movement ahead. It might have been nothing more than a flash of a pale color, maybe white or cream, among the shades of murky green, brown, and black of the vegetation against the darkening night. At first, he thought his nerves and mind were playing tricks on him.
More than anything else, he wanted to find Raphael and Luisa to right a wrong he had committed. It didn’t matter he had tried his best to help Raphael. To Peter, the kid ending up in a gang was all his fault. If he had checked on him more often at the shelter, or if he had tried to understand what was going on in Raphael’s life when under Quintilius’s tutelage, maybe he would be doing something different this evening. Something that didn’t involve chasing gang members and traumatized kids up a steep cliff, covered in mud.
A shrill scream froze his heart.
He ran the last stretch of trail without breathing or thinking. Before fully knowing what he was doing, Peter jumped on the big werewolf who was holding the screaming girl down. He hit the shifter with everything in his arsenal, punches, kicks, getting angrier and angrier as the man fought back with mirrored meanness.
Peter didn’t need a shifter nose to sense the werewolf was high on vampire blood. No paranormal could have borne a beating from a demon without asking for mercy after the first two or three blows. Peter seldom fought—for good reason. Besides the angels, and anyone who had been an angel once, no one could withstand the power Peter kept carefully in check. He never sparred with anyone at Alexander’s gym, because there were no training opponents strong enough.
“Raphael!” The girl had scooted away from under the werewolf and was leaning over a motionless heap of clothes, a few meters away. “You killed him. You killed him.” She cradled the boy in her arms and rocked him slowly, calling his name.
Her mournful wail distracted Peter long enough for the werewolf to hit him square in the face. His lips split. The sweet, coppery scent of blood filled his nostrils and clogged his taste buds, fueling his rage. Peter’s eyes became red.
The shifter shuddered in fear and murmured, “Demon.”
Peter delivered his next blow to the man’s sternum. His fist hit the werewolf’s ribcage just over his heart, stopping it for a few seconds.
The girl ran back to them, stopping a few centimeters from the werewolf and she kicked him. Once. Twice. Then she bent over him. “I hate you, Rico. I hate you.” While crying, the girl punched the werewolf over and over again. “You killed him.”
“Luisa—” Peter waved his hand to get her attention, but she didn’t acknowledge him.
Heavy boots trampled the slippery ground. Samuel arrived with Marcus and Quintilius on his heels.
Panting, Marcus stepped forward, then bent his legs and placed his hands on his knees. “Where’s the kid?”
Peter nodded at the mound on the ground, then looked back at Luisa.
Unaware of the new company, she had been pounding on the shifter the whole time, but slower and slower. “I hate you, Rico. I hope you die.” With a loud sob, heartbreaking in its bleakness, she collapsed.
Peter watched as she shut down in shock, and he crouched by her side, wishing he could wrap his arm around her shoulders to comfort her. But such was the nature of his curse, unable to touch anyone without perverting the gesture into senseless lust. Blind rage seemed the only emotion keeping Peter’s power in check. Although, he would never remove his gloves during a fight.
Her eyes on Raphael, Luisa tried to stand, but her legs buckled under her and she fell to the ground between sobs. Finally, she shuddered one last time and stopped crying. “Please, cover him. Raphael’s cold,” she said in a voice devoid of emotions. Peter shivered.
He motioned for Samuel to take his place beside the girl and was relieved to see the fallen had removed his jacket to cover Luisa, then hugged her close. In frozen silence, both Marcus and Quintilius watched the whole scene unfold from a few meters away.
Peter backed away and approached Raphael, his heart heavy and his eyes swelling with tears. Luisa had turned the boy’s body face up, bruised, blood still oozing from a similar cut as the one Peter sported. Tired, he sat on the wet ground and passed a hand over Raphael’s head. “I’m so sorry.” He cried. “I’m so sorry I failed you. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there when you needed help.” He took a good look at the boy and couldn’t help but notice how young he was, despite all the ink and the piercings. “Whatever you did is on me. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t deserve this.” Unable to stop himself, he cradled Raphael in his arms. As he softly caressed the boy’s long hair out of his face, he felt a feeble, but unmistakable pulse on the vein on his temple. Peter’s own heart skipped a beat. “Raphael?”
The girl must have heard the hope in his voice because she raised her head from Samuel’s chest and turned toward Peter. She tilted her head, then her eyes widened when Peter smiled at her.
“Raphael’s alive.” Peter removed his jacket and carefully wrapped it around the boy, who was still cold to the touch.
As Luisa half-run and half-stumbled to reach Raphael, Peter reached for his cell phone and called Barnes. “We need medical assistance ASAP. Send a helicopter.” He looked around and realized the futility of that request. “Scratch that. Send a hydroplane.” He gave the archangel their coordinates, then exhaled a loud, cleansing breath and walked a few steps out of sight of the others. Discovering the boy was alive had shaken him to the core, a primal emotion he couldn’t ignore. Around the bend, in the shadows, he crouched low and held his head in his hands. Finally, he let out all the anger, the sadness, the blind hatred, and the burning hopelessness that had crowded his mind and his heart throughout this very long day. He screamed. Then his stomach heaved.
Quiet footsteps approached, but he didn’t look up.
“It wasn’t your fault all of this happened.” Quintilius’s calm voice reached him.
Somehow, the werewolf’s words were not only exactly what he needed to hear, but they came from the person he needed to speak them. He looked up at Quintilius and sighed in relief.
****
Quintilius followed Peter, and when he realized his state of mind, he gave the demon a moment to vent on his own terms. Peter’s visceral reaction though prompted Quintilius to say, “We are all responsible for letting this boy, and who knows how many others like him, fall through the cracks of a flawed system. It’s so bad, it’s a miracle it hasn’t burst yet.”
He didn’t get closer to Peter. The man was obviously trying to keep his emotions in check.
“We must push for a reform.” Peter stared down at his feet.
“I agree, and I won’t relent until something is done. For starters, I’ll free several acres of the Reserve to enlarge the Renegade Youth Shelter. And if the kids from the Den of Rejects would like a change of scenery, I’ll give them the land they need. If necessary, I’ll help them rebuild their city from the ground up. Then we’ll bring the archangel up to speed. I’ve been dealing with Barnes for years and I know he’s a good man. He’ll help.”
Peter sighed and nodded. “During this whole day, I wished we would get to them faster. Then I saw him, lying there on the cold ground, motionless, blood and mud covering him, and I lost it. No kid should go through what Raphael did. No one should be left behind to suffer at the hands of adults who don’t deserve to be alive. I can’t have children, and I’d give anything to have one with Ophelia. I would adore that miracle of ours.” He paused, his chest heaving. “These renegade kids I save from the streets are my children. Anytime something happens to one of them, I bleed inside. And when that something is caused by one of my decisions, I can’t deal with it
. I know Raphael denounced Beltrami to the other supervisors and no one listened to him. And the most horrible thing is that I’d have dismissed him too. How can I live with that?”
Quintilius felt the pain radiating from Peter, and it was raw and honest and it hurt him by sympathetic response. “You’ve done more good than you give yourself credit for. At RYS, the majority of the teenagers living there will grow up to see adulthood thanks to your relentless work. You removed them from the streets, one by one. You saved them from prostitution, drug addiction, organ trafficking, and many other horrible fates. You did that. Not me. Not Barnes. And certainly not the Immortal Council. You have devoted your life to help those kids, the same way I know you’ve devoted yourself to give a voice to the dead.”
Peter’s eyes changed color, from the dark red that resembled blood to a more muted dark brown, revealing his inner turmoil and emotions more than any spoken word. He shook his head, a small, sad smile on his face.
Quintilius stepped closer, then tilted his head. “And if nothing else, you healed my princess’s heart. I can see it. It took longer for me to realize than it should have, but I’ve finally opened my eyes. Ophelia’s whole now and that was you. You’ve put that smile on her face. Her eyes light with joy when she sees you. I saw the way you looked at her, and, as a father, I can’t be anything but happy for you both.”
Peter pushed up onto his knees and straightened up to his full height, which was considerable, even compared to Quintilius, who was one big werewolf. He didn’t like having to tilt his chin to look the demon in the eyes, but he wouldn’t be able to face Ophelia if he didn’t make it right with her life mate. Out of habit, he extended his hand, then remembered Peter wasn’t fond of contact. He steadied his resolve and without preambles said, “I owe you an apology.”
An expression of surprise covered Peter’s face. Later, it would be something to recount at family dinners, but for now Quintilius had to make sure there won’t be any misunderstanding left between them. “I judged you without knowing you.”
Peter shrugged. “I’m used to that. My species isn’t generally considered son-in-law material.” He folded his long arms over his chest. “I understand.”
Quintilius studied the massive demon standing before him, a man whose size alone would have inspired fear in most beings, and he thought of how looks were sometimes deceiving. He shook his head. “My misgiven rejection wasn’t due to you being who you are.”
Peter’s eyebrow shot high.
“The truth is—” Quintilius let out a sigh, then smiled at Peter. “I wasn’t ready to let go of Ophelia. She’s the whole world to me.” He chuckled, then outright laughed. “I saw you as a competitor for her affection and couldn’t stand that.” It felt good to be able to voice those thoughts, those feelings that had been eating at him since the previous spring.
“There’s no competition where you are concerned. Ophelia adores you.” Peter’s smile became wider, his stance more relaxed. “I was jealous of you.”
Quintilius stepped back. “Me?”
Peter nodded. “Yes, when I realized I cared about Ophelia, I would’ve been happy if she had bestowed on me even a fraction of the love she has for you.” His smile widened. “But her heart is big enough for the two of us.”
Quintilius’s eyes filled with unwanted moisture, but he wouldn’t shy away from a challenge and headed toward the final hurdle with a lighter spirit. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you, and I’m happy we got to spend a day together. I hope we can put our differences behind us.”
“I’ve nothing but respect for you, and I’m looking forward to getting to know you better, sir,” Peter said. He stood at attention with his legs firmly planted on the ground and brought his right hand to his heart, then slightly bowed. Werewolf etiquette dictated this when talking to an alpha of Quintilius’s rank.
“You don’t have to—” Quintilius realized he would offend Peter by dismissing his effort to integrate into the werewolf culture—Ophelia’s way of life—and brought his own right hand first to his mouth then to his temple for the proper answer. “It will be my honor to officially welcome you to the family.”
Quintilius saw Peter’s face light with joy. “All is well that ends well.”
Peter’s response was covered by the roar of a hydroplane’s engine approaching the ridge from the riverside. They looked at each other and an understanding stronger than any handshake passed between them. “See you on Sunday?” he mouthed and Peter nodded.
As they walked back to the rest of the group, Quintilius noticed a commotion brewing.
****
Marcus heard the distant hydroplane at the same time he saw light spilling out from an open door. They were closer to the nest than he had realized. The building’s clever design that blended the rock and slate structure with the natural surroundings had played a trick on them. They were standing on the vampires’ doorstep, invading their property without a warrant.
Marcus swore in Latin and sighed, then accepted that a long day would soon become a very long night. He speed dialed home.
Diana answered on the first ring. “Marcus? Is everything okay?”
He closed his eyes to focus on the sound of his beloved’s voice. “Hey, little thing?”
“Hey, big thing. Where are you? We should be leaving already. I’m sure Ravenna could use some help.”
His lips turned up in a smile. Diana made him happy by simply talking to him. “I’m afraid I’ll be late. Extracurricular activity to handle. Nothing important, just the usual vampire-werewolf angst. You go ahead with Daniel. I’ll meet you there, and will try to wrap up things soon here.”
“Promise you’ll be careful.”
He heard her small intake of breath. She was very protective of him and that never ceased to amaze him. “I promise.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.” Marcus heard Daniel asking for the phone.
“Just a second, Danny wants to talk to you.”
“Put him on.”
“Daddy?”
Marcus’s smile widened. “Yes, baby.”
“Love you. Come home, play.”
“Soon, baby.” Marcus had to wipe his eyes, he always teared up when Daniel said things like that but managed to keep his voice firm as he said goodbye to his wife.
He joined Alexander and Samuel, who were guarding the two kids and had made sure the werewolf on the ground remained unconscious. Alexander and Samuel nodded, and Marcus redirected himself toward the two vampires heading their way. “Leave it to the renegade to deal with the bloodsuckers,” he whispered, then remembered his wife was one of them. Forgive me, my love, he sent Diana his mental apology and braced for the inevitable unpleasantness.
Several meters away from them, he removed his coat, tucked the sleeves of his shirt, and raised his hands to let them know he was unarmed. “Evening. I’m Marcus Sulpicius Aurelianus.”
The taller of the two vampires stood back while the shorter one closed the distance and stopped in front of Marcus. The vampire looked at the rest of the group behind Marcus. “You are trespassing.”
“Apologies. We didn’t realize we were so close to the house.” Marcus knew how the conversation would go, but with vampires sometimes it paid to play their convoluted mental games.
“The whole park and the harbor are our properties.” The vampire lowered his fangs, which in itself was already a clear message that things wouldn’t go down quietly.
Marcus inwardly groaned. He wasn’t well versed in the intricacies of property laws. The vampire might have been telling the truth or he might be pulling Marcus’s leg. Either way, he had to choose his words carefully. So not his thing. The Greek should have managed this situation, not him. Marcus would find a way to make Alexander pay for that. It wouldn’t be the first time. Thanks to Marcus, Alexander was still trying to fend off Lena Chiosi’s advances. On behalf of Alexander, Marcus had promised the journalist a private tour of Drako’s infamous play room. Two thousand
years in the making, but eventually he had settled his score with the Greek for the horse accident.
Planting a neutral expression on his face, Marcus repeated, “We didn’t know we were on your property.” He would have rather grabbed the short vampire by his collar and rammed him against his friend before this farce of a conversation became any more comical. But they had already acted outside of the Peace Pact Alliance’s protocol by knowingly entering Vampire Nation territory. He wouldn’t make it easy for the bloodsuckers. Sorry, Diana.
“You didn’t know. Really?” The short vampire laughed, then turned slightly to give his friend a look, and the tall one laughed too.
“Really.”
“Very well. You didn’t know this—” He pointed a long finger at the surrounding area in a circular motion. “It’s all under our jurisdiction.”
Marcus shook his head. “No, we didn’t know.” He let the vampire lead the dance because he had to give the hydroplane time to land in the harbor. Besides, they had yet to come up with a plan that brought the two kids back home safe and sound. “I apologize for any inconvenience we might have caused you.” He couldn’t help but shut his eyes for a moment and press his hand on them while his thumb circled his right temple.
When he reopened his eyes, the hydroplane was descending as it entered the small bay.
Marcus nodded with his chin toward the side. “We’ll be out of your way in a minute or so.” He made a move in that direction, but the vampire held out one hand to stop him.
At the same time, the tall vampire stepped forward. “Not so fast. First, you explain to us what are you doing here, and why are you keeping that werewolf on the ground?”
Marcus didn’t know what the deal between the kidnapper and the vampires was, and had to play it by ear. “We were sent to retrieve two shifters who escaped the Renegade Youth Shelter yesterday. Their trail led us here. Again, we apologize. We’ll take custody of the kids and leave as soon as the hydroplane lands.”
An Immortal Valentine's Day Page 10