Lucas carried me back into the house and settled me on the couch, taking up his position with his arm around my shoulder. Settling contentedly against his chest, I was gratified not only with my wonderful gifts, but by the thought that this amazing man liked me. It was overwhelming, and I still didn't understand what he could possibly see in me, but the emotion readily visible in his eyes confirmed he cared. My heart stumbled happily and he squeezed my shoulder. I knew he could hear my heart bursting with joy, the emotion bubbling up through my bloodstream.
Glancing around each member of the group, I found it hard to believe my good fortune in meeting them. “I want to thank you so much,” I finally managed quietly, “you've been so kind, shared your home with me and I can't tell you how much I appreciate all you've done.” I paused, grouping my thoughts into order. “I wish I had something for each of you, though I don't think anything would possibly make up for what you've given me in the past few weeks. I was lost and alone. More alone than most people ever feel in their lifetimes. I thought I had no hope and then Lucas came into my life and with him, all of you. I feel so blessed to have met you all.”
Lucas kissed me tenderly. “It is I who was blessed in finding you, my Charlotte.”
I looked at him, chewing my bottom lip thoughtfully before I glanced back at his friends seated around the living room. “There is one thing I can give you all.” I glanced once more into Lucas's startled eyes and took a deep breath. “I have one more secret I haven't told you.”
Chapter 12: Ghosts from the Past
They were uniformly silent for a few seconds, digesting my announcement before Striker broke the silence. “What sort of secret?” he growled, the tenor of his voice confirming he was instantly suspicious.
“Now Striker, give her a chance,” Rowena warned.
“I knew this was dangerous,” Ripley groaned, eyeing me with unconcealed contempt. “It was dangerous to trust you.”
Gwynn was enraged as she stood up, her eyes blazing fire as she glared at Lucas. “This is what I was concerned about! We don't even know this girl, and yet you've allowed her to come in here and threaten our existence!”
“Enough! Gwynn, remember whom you're speaking to. Sit down and give her a chance to explain,” Lucas ordered coldly, his tone tolerating no arguments and I was reminded that he was their leader. There was a tangible anger in the room, the tension level ratcheted up considerably in the past few minutes. I could feel the stiffness in Lucas's body, as if he was teetering on the edge of physically attacking Gwynn.
For a long moment, Gwynn stared furiously at me, before she allowed William to tug her down onto the couch beside him. She held her arms out to Katie. “Come here, Katie.”
“I wanna stay with Charlotte and Lucas,” Katie announced and I suspected Gwynn was going to have apoplexy. With a gentle brush of my fingers across Katie's hair, I inclined my head towards William. “You should do as Gwynn asked, please, Katie.” With a little huff of annoyance, Katie wriggled down off the couch and stomped around to William, letting him lift her onto his lap. She pointedly ignored Gwynn and I knew that if Gwynn hadn't hated me before, she most certainly did now. Ripley glared at me with barely concealed fury and Striker gripped his huge hands reflexively into fists. Even Acenith looked perturbed, her glorious green eyes filled with worry, and I rushed to reassure them I meant no harm.
“I promise you, this has nothing to do with your secret. I would never tell anyone about you.” I glanced at Katie, wondering how much she knew about her brother and the others. Did she know they were vampires? It seemed as if I was treading on eggshells and I silently cursed myself, for even suggesting I could offer them a gift of my own. It had been a stupid mistake.
The words didn't have the effect I'd hoped for and they continued to watch me silently. There was a tension amongst them, which hadn't been there before and I took a deep breath, trying to weave my tangled thoughts into a flow of coherency. “This secret is something I've always kept very private. Although my grandmother knew there was something, she didn't say anything, didn't approach me about it. I guess it could be a hereditary thing, but I've never had any proof. Mom couldn't do it.” Flushing with embarrassment, I glanced around at them, wrinkling my nose when I guessed what a mess I was making of this discussion. “Sorry – I know I'm not making any sense.”
“It's okay, Charlotte. Take your time,” Rowena urged. It seemed she was the only one willing to show any faith in me, the only one willing to reserve judgment until I'd had an opportunity to explain. Even Ben looked concerned; sitting back in an armchair, he was holding his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose, as if expecting imminent disaster.
Taking a deep breath, I began again. “This is something I've kept to myself, because people would probably think I was some sort of freak if they knew. I guess…” I peeked around at them, “given that I'm sitting in a room…” I glanced at Katie anxiously, found her watching me with big grey eyes and stumbled to a halt, glancing up at Lucas uncertainly.
“Katie knows what we are, Charlotte.”
“They is vampires,” Katie announced happily. “But I has to keep it secret.”
Okay— something else I would need to discuss with Lucas later, if I survived this current situation. Inhaling heavily, I continued. “Given that I'm sitting in a room filled with vampires and some of you have such amazing… abilities, you probably won't think this is as freaky as most people would.” I dropped my gaze to my hands, unable to bear the distrust in their eyes. Whilst I'd thought I was building a friendly relationship with them, it seemed the level of trust we'd achieved wasn't high. “I have some sort of – psychic ability. It's been there all of my life, but I've ignored it most of the time. Dead people communicate with me – and some of them have messages to give to you.” I looked around anxiously, expecting them to burst into laughter, or tell me I was crazy; but they were all quiet, watching me with collectively solemn expressions. Lucas's arm tightened imperceptibly around my shoulders and when I glanced up, I found his expression unreadable. It was apparent they were still suspicious, worried about what I was alluding to. I needed to show them, but how did I go about it? The voices were always in the background of my consciousness, whispering and murmuring, but I'd spent the vast majority of my life ignoring them, wishing they'd just go away. I'd never willingly attempted to listen to them before.
Closing my eyes, I took another steadying breath, ignoring the sharp tug on my ribs. The voices were dissonant and I responded to them, firmly and silently. “If you want me to listen, you have to speak one at a time. I can't make sense of what you're saying, if you all speak at once.”
Some of the hubbub died down and I was able to select one thread of conversation and concentrate on that alone. With it came an image –clear and well defined, I could see the speakers as if they stood before me. A man dressed in a formal suit of heavy grey serge, with a neatly buttoned waistcoat beneath the jacket and highly polished shoes on his feet. The neck of his crisply starched shirt was adorned with a black silk cravat, and a gold watch chain hung from the waistcoat. He sported a dark brown goatee and slicked back hair, parted with precision to one side. He had a woman at his side; dressed in a demure gown of pale green silk, her waist was tightly corseted and her back impossibly straight. Her long blonde hair was piled into an elaborate arrangement on the top of her head and she watched me with clear hazel eyes and an encouraging smile. The man and woman were holding hands, their fingers intertwined. Standing beside them was a younger man, perhaps in his late twenties. Whilst not classically handsome, his features were appealing and his body long and lean. His sky-blue eyes stood out in stark contrast against his dark brown hair, which fell across his collar in gentle waves. His dress suggested he was of a lower class than the couple; he wore a white shirt, which lay open at the neckline to reveal heavily tanned skin, coarse woolen trousers, and heavily scuffed boots. Despite the obvious social differences between him and the couple, it was evident they were a group
who belonged with each other. Listening carefully to their words for a few minutes, I opened my eyes and located Rowena. She had settled onto the edge of the armchair Ben occupied, watching me inquisitively. I was comforted to find no sign of distrust in her gaze, but her curiosity was abundant.
“I can see your parents, Mungo and Elizabeth.” I gave a brief description of each one, along with the second man, who had identified himself as Duncan Taylor. “Mungo wants you to know, he's deeply regretful about your enforced betrothal to Finchley. His decision was mandated by the times you lived in, when it was required that a daughter marry someone of her own class. He honestly believed the betrothal to be a good match, Finchley held his own estate near your father's in Auchintoul, and he came with the highest recommendations from London society. Mungo and your mother knew you were in love with Duncan, but he was a gardener on your Estate, making it impossible for you to marry him, without causing a scandal which would have affected the entire family.” I listened carefully for another minute or two as Rowena's mother spoke, her hands clutched together at her waist. “Elizabeth wants you to know she tried so hard to convince your father to call off the betrothal, but it was a situation which your father couldn't control without repercussions for both you and your family. He apologizes that he didn't have the courage to make that choice, he wishes he could change the decision he made and should have allowed you to marry for love.”
Rowena intertwined her fingers, a multitude of emotions crossing her exquisite features. Ben placed his hand on her thigh and they shared a meaningful look, before Rowena turned back to me, her eyes filled with expectation.
“Duncan is sorry he couldn't protect you from Finchley. He'd suspected Finchley was something— abnormal, even before you both tried to run away from Auchintoul. It wasn't until after Finchley had murdered Duncan that he became aware of the truth of what happened. Your father's footman had taken a bribe from Finchley, and told him the direction you were travelling. Duncan wishes he'd been strong enough to stop Finchley. After his death, when he reached the— other side… he discovered Finchley was a vampire and it was only then when he understood he could never have stopped Finchley from taking you, from turning you to vampire. He says Finchley had an obsessive desire for you, which Duncan could never have overcome. Duncan has watched over you since his death – when you were trapped on Finchley's estate, Duncan was there with you. Every time you caught the scent of freesias wafting through the house; that was Duncan. He was delighted when Finchley was destroyed, and you were finally free. He only wishes it hadn't taken a decade. He wants you to know he felt your desperation and sorrow when you were turned, and knew how sad you were, because you were never able to contact your family again. Mungo and Elizabeth were stunned to discover what happened after they died, they'd mourned your loss for many years, and wish there had been some way for you to keep in touch with them. They have accepted what you have become and love you unconditionally. Duncan and your parents are so glad you met Ben; they know you are soul mates and trust Ben to love you always and keep you safe. Duncan is very happy you found love again, and wants you to know, he will adore you always.”
The voices and images faded and I peeked at Rowena, anxious as to how she would react. Her eyes were bright and she held her hands to her cheeks, her expression filled with wonder. “Charlotte, thank you. I've always wondered, but this is the most incredible gift I've ever received.” She gazed at Ben and he squeezed her fingers gently, leaning forward to kiss her tenderly.
“This is your secret?” Striker asked. The anger wasn't simmering in his eyes now and his stance had relaxed.
“Yes.”
“You can talk to our families?” Ben was rubbing his hand against Rowena's thigh, offering her comfort. His voice was laced with incredulity.
“Yes.” Listening to the voices again, I had to ask them to stop clamoring for attention a second time. It seemed every spirit was wrangling for their opportunity to speak, after being ignored for so long. Pulling a second thread towards me, a new image appeared. Who this memory belonged to was immediately recognizable, the resemblance uncanny. I turned to Marianne. “I'm talking to your grandmother, who tells me her name is Margaret. She wants you to know how happy she was when she met your Grandpa again, after her death. She's so proud of the woman you've become. She and your parents missed you desperately when you disappeared. They'd always accepted that you were a free spirit, and intended to travel the world, but when they didn't hear from you for so long, they grew very worried. With the war going on, there was no way to get any information, or to have someone search for you in Europe. When Germany capitulated, your father and brother travelled to Europe to search, but things were so chaotic and they couldn't find any records to suggest what had happened to you.”
A couple walked into the mental picture and introduced themselves as Marianne's parents, Alexander and Ann Cooper. They were dressed in clothing that reminded me of films such as The Maltese Falcon, and Casablanca; her father was immaculately clad in military uniform, her mother wore a floral dress, her dark hair pulled back from her pretty features with elaborately decorated combs. “Your parents are with me now. Your Mom, Ann, says she had a feeling,” I smiled across at Marianne, “very much like the feelings you have about the future, and she knew almost from the beginning that you were gone forever.”
Marianne's offered me a delighted smile, her entire face joyful. “My mother always had a sixth sense about future events.”
Returning to Marianne's family, I listened to their words. “They thought you'd been killed in Europe. They were very worried when they discovered what had happened to you, how you'd become vampire after being attacked in Berlin. But they love you and see how you love your friends and they're delighted about your engagement to Striker.” Marianne grinned; her eyes filled with pleasure as she turned to Striker and pressed a kiss against his mouth. “Your sister Annabeth, and your brother Philip, say hello. Annabeth thinks Striker is…” I almost laughed aloud and averted my gaze, unable to meet Striker's eyes, “… a real dish.”
“Thanks, Charlotte,” Marianne announced happily. “And Annabeth is right.” She glanced up at Striker and leaned forward to kiss him, in an unabashed show of adoration.
Staring down at my hands, I was pleased for the first time that I could do this. It had alarmed me in the past and I'd continually ignored the voices, often yelling for them to go away and leave me alone. For a long time, I'd been convinced I was going insane and the voices and visions had terrified me. Now, I could see there was some good to come from this strange talent. Lucas trailed his fingertips over my arm and I looked up, wondering what he was making of this. The soft expression in his eyes was wonderful and I knew he accepted me, exactly as I was. It was comforting, made even more encouraging when he leaned down unexpectedly and brushed his lips across mine.
I returned to the voices, surprised when Marianne's mother spoke to me again. I listened carefully, nodding in response to her question, and then blushing as it occurred to me that I was nodding to someone only I could see. “Yes, I think I could do that. You'd have to appear for me again. Yes, I think Marianne would like it, very much.”
“What did you see, Charlotte?” Rowena asked eagerly.
My eyes came to rest on Marianne. “Your mother asked if I would paint a portrait of them for you. She says money was tight before you left home, and they didn't have any family photos. I promised I would paint a portrait of your family for you.”
Marianne leaped up from the couch and whooped with delight, before swamping me in a hug. “That would be outstanding!” she announced with a happy squeal.
“Remember to be gentle, Marianne,” Lucas warned her. “If you break her other arm, how will she paint?”
“Good point,” Marianne agreed, easing off on the bear hug.
“Do you… is there a message for me?” Gwynn asked timidly. She was perched on the very edge of the couch, William clasping her shoulder and it was apparent she was desperat
e for anything I could tell her.
I shut my eyes, searching through the voices. If I concentrated hard enough, I discovered I was able to mute the individual voices, one after the other as I worked through them, lowering the clamor in my head. At last, I heard what I was searching for and an image appeared. A couple stood together, the woman very beautiful. Almost as beautiful as her daughter. The man standing beside her was formally dressed in a pinstriped suit, with a heavily starched collar and neatly knotted tie. The woman spoke rapidly, twisting her hands together nervously as she related a story that had me cringing internally. The man beside her placed his arm around her shoulder, providing her with physical comfort.
“Your mom, Sarah, is speaking to me,” I said, turning to Gwynn. “She is so very sorry… for what happened after she divorced your father. She wants you to know she fought as hard as she could, but your father was wealthy and she didn't have the funds to fight for custody after their divorce.” I chewed my lip anxiously, listening to Gwynn's mother and trying to sanitize what I was hearing before I spoke. I knew so little about Gwynn and I didn't know how much the others in the room knew about her history. “She never stopped loving you, Gwynn. Two years after she left, she remarried and her new husband, Thomas Gregory, is with her now. As soon as they married, they tried to gain custody of you through the courts… but your father insisted you'd died, and provided them with a forged death certificate.”
Gwynn covered her face with her hands and William drew her into his arms, hugging her against his chest. Katie placed her hand in Gwynn's, apparently over her little snit about being made to go and sit with William. “She says if she'd known you were still alive, she would never, ever, have stopped searching for you. She only discovered what had happened… after she passed away.” I managed a wavering smile. “She's pleased you… finally escaped your father's home and made your way to San Francisco, and met Eugene. She believes you made the right choice in becoming a vampire, knows you thought it was the only way to keep yourself safe. She doesn't condemn the choices you made, and says she's glad you have such a good friend in Eugene… and knows he didn't made the decision to create you lightly. She wants me to thank William for loving you so deeply, she's happy you've made such a perfect match and found happiness. She loves you deeply, as much as she did the day she left. She never abandoned you, Gwynn; she wants you to know that. She's been watching over you all these years and she's proud of how special you are.” The image faded and I smiled encouragingly at Gwynn. She smiled back, an openly brilliant smile and I was encouraged that perhaps our relationship wasn't in complete tatters.
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