Blood Bond (Anna Strong Chronicles #9)

by Jeanne C. Stein

  I wasn’t sure you’d be pleased at my coming.

  Frey and I are in your debt, I reply. You are always welcome.

  Chael looks puzzled by the exchange but I don’t give him time to ask about it. I address myself again to Vlad. You’ll have to fill Chael in on our adventure.

  Vlad nods and laughs. He looks very handsome in a tailored suit, his hair pulled away from his face and secured at the back of his neck. He, too, has a woman on his arm, but this one doesn’t look happy to have been brought to such a commonplace event. As a human, she no doubt expected more excitement from her vampire date.

  Your date looks bored.

  He grimaces and shoots her a sideways frown. I made a mistake bringing her. She’s too young and inexperienced to appreciate the beauty of this occasion.

  Young, yes. Inexperienced, I doubt it.

  That brings a chuckle from both Chael and Vlad and a stern look from the date, who probably guesses that we are having a conversation and she is more than likely the topic.

  “Allons, cher, je veux un peu de champagne,” she says through pouty lips, pulling on Vlad’s arm.

  He bows an apology and moves toward the buffet and bar set among the trees.

  I look around for Frey. He’s chatting with some of my parent’s friends. He had thrown a questioning look Vlad’s way when he spied him among the guests, but he remained with the little knot by the buffet table. I join him now, slipping my arm through his. He nibbles my earlobe, using the diversion to whisper, “Everything all right?”

  His eyes are on Vlad and Chael, now chatting it up with Mom and Dad. Vlad’s date still looks like she wants to be anywhere but here, but the sour expression is hidden behind a glass of champagne so I doubt my exuberant parents notice.

  “Everything is more than all right.” I tip my face toward his. “I’ve never been happier.”

  Trish is suddenly at our side, John-John beside her. She holds a silver cake knife. “Come on, you two. It’s time to cut the cake!”

  She takes my hand and John-John takes Frey’s and we’re pulled to the end of the buffet table where the magnificent wedding cake is on proud display. Someone clangs a fork against a glass and in a minute, we’re surrounded.

  Trish hands me the knife. Now this is going to be tricky. If I so much as get a mouthful of cake, there will be serious repercussions. I cut two small pieces and offer one to Frey.

  Luckily, Frey knows the drill. I go first, stuffing a forkful of cake in his mouth; well, mostly in his mouth. He grins and uses his fingers to scoop up the excess, wiping them on a napkin Trish holds out. Then he holds up his piece of cake, but instead of aiming for my mouth, he swivels suddenly, leans down and pushes it at John-John.

  An excited, surprised squeal and John-John grabs his father’s hand, and the two are soon covered mouth to chin in chocolate cake and whipped cream frosting. The guests howl in laughter. It’s a perfect distraction and before anyone notices I haven’t had a bite of cake, I’m wiping my lips and smacking in feigned appreciation.

  Well done.

  I spy Vlad at the edge of the crowd, clapping his hands along with everyone else. Then more champagne is poured, the cake served, and I turn my attention to helping Frey and his son clean frosting off their clothes.

  I sense the tenseness in the air before seeing David and Tracey approach. They are not holding hands. She tries to smile at me, but it falls a hundred kilowatts short of her usual high-beam grin. David is tight-lipped, shoulders bunched.

  “Uh-oh,” I whisper to Frey. “Here comes trouble.” I hand him the napkin I was using to help John-John clean up. “You take Tracey, I’ll take David.” And I’m off to grab David’s arm, pulling him to the edge of the garden where we can have some privacy.

  “What the fuck, Anna?” he snaps, rubbing his bicep.

  I guess I grabbed him harder than I realized. But he’s not going to sidetrack me. “Fine way to talk to a bride,” I snap right back. “What did you do to Tracey?”

  His face softens from aggravation to something that looks a lot like guilt. “I broke up with her.”

  Now I wish I’d grabbed him harder. “You broke up with her? At my wedding? What the fuck, David?”

  “Fine way for a bride to talk,” he growls right back. But now it’s guilt plainly stamped on his face. “I just couldn’t let her go on thinking we had a future. It wasn’t fair.”

  “Jesus, David. Tell me it’s not because of Gloria.”

  “It’s not because of Gloria.”

  Too fast, and not at all convincing. “So all that bullshit you fed me about you and Gloria just being friends was just that? Bullshit?” I don’t give him time to respond. “You had sex with Tracey last night.”

  His head jerks up. “How do you know that?”

  “Because I heard you.”

  Color floods up his face. “God. You could hear us?”

  He’s embarrassed. Good. No sense letting him off the hook by telling him it was because of my super-acute sense of hearing. “Yes. So, you had sex with her last night and broke up with her this morning. Real classy, David.”

  His jaw tightens. “We’re both adults. She wanted to have sex. So did I.”

  “Last night. So did you just wake up this morning and think, today Anna is getting married. Good time to break up with Tracey.”

  He looks down at his hands. “It wasn’t like that. Exactly.”

  “I don’t even want to know what it was like. Exactly. John-John is more mature than you are.” But I soften my voice. “Can’t you make things right with Tracey?”

  “How am I supposed to do that?” For the first time in our conversation, his eyes spark defensively. “Tracey knew all along I wasn’t prepared to get serious. I told her so. I told you so, remember? But with all the wedding preparations and watching you and Frey so crazy in love, it suddenly hit me that I wasn’t being fair to Tracey. She deserves someone who can give her what you have. It isn’t me.”

  I take his arm and turn him to face Frey and Tracey still standing by the wedding cake. “Are you sure? Look at Tracey. She’s beautiful, smart, strong, sexy, and she cares about you.”

  He looks at Tracey. The sadness tugging at her mouth and clouding her eyes makes my heart heavy. But the look quickly morphs into one of grim determination when she catches David’s eyes on her. She squares her shoulders and deliberately turns her back on him.

  Tracey is a tough chick. A truth suddenly dawns on me with such clarity, I can’t believe I hadn’t seen it before. One of those “aha” moments you read about in books but seldom experience in real life.

  This one hits me with the force of a sledgehammer. Maybe it’s because of my mother or what Frey and I just went through or maybe it’s because of the conversation I had with Vlad. Only one thing matters in this life. And it’s about time I stopped trying to force David into a relationship he doesn’t want because it’s a relationship I think he should.

  I take a deep breath and plunge in. “I can’t force you to make things right with Tracey. And I’m about to utter words you never in your wildest dreams imagined I’d ever say.”

  David’s face darkens. “What now?”

  Are the words going to get caught in my throat? Choke me? Shit. Let’s get this over with. I look David square in the eyes. “If it’s really Gloria you love, don’t waste any more time. Go get her.”

  I couldn’t have surprised David more if I’d declared my own undying love for him. His eyes widen, his mouth falls open.

  I don’t wait for him to regain composure. I’m afraid if I do, I’ll take it all back. I rush on, “I think you’re going to regret it. Big-time. And please, don’t bring her around the office. I may lose control and shoot her. But I’ve learned something these last few weeks. Life is too short and love is too important to squander. I’m doing this for Tracey as much as I’m doing this for you. Tracey is all the things I mentioned and more and you are absolutely right. There is someone out there for her. If it isn’t you, she shouldn�
��t waste any more time finding him.”

  David’s expression changes from astonishment to deeply suspicious in the blink of an eye. “How much champagne have you had today?”

  “Not enough. And I’m going to have to drink a lot more to be able to forget this conversation.”

  “Well, I’m going to call Gloria before you do.” He glances at Tracey. “Will you tell Tracey I’m leaving?”

  “Oh no. It’s up to you to tell her. Maybe she’ll want to stay on for a few days. Maybe she’ll want to leave with you. In any case, I can have the pilot ready to fly in a few hours.”

  David leans down to kiss my cheek. “Thanks, Anna.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. In fact, don’t thank me for this ever.”

  But David is already off, moving toward Frey and Tracey. I watch as Tracey listens to David tell her he’s going back to San Diego. But there are no histrionics on her part, no recriminations. She’s put on her big-girl panties and it’s in that moment I know she’s going to be fine. She merely shrugs and then they both move toward the house.

  I move to Frey’s side. “Tracey tell you David broke up with her?”

  He nods. “They’re going back to San Diego as soon as possible.” He tilts his head to look at me. “So you couldn’t talk him into trying again, huh?”

  “Actually, I did.” I slip my arm in Frey’s. “But not the way you think. I’ll tell you about it later.” I watch David and Tracey disappear into the house. “Do you have your cell phone on you? I’ve got to make a call.”

  * * *

  LUCKILY THERE ARE NO MORE CRISES FOR THE REST OF the afternoon. By four, Frey and I have said thank you and good-bye to all the guests.

  David and Tracey have gone to dinner in town. They’ll be leaving tomorrow to go back to San Diego—something about weather patterns making it impossible to leave tonight. It will sadden me to see them go, the only consolation being the knowledge that in time, Gloria will certainly fuck things up with David. If he’s lucky, when it happens Tracey won’t have found her Prince Charming yet and David might get another chance with her. Maybe then he’ll be wise enough to appreciate it.

  God knows, it took me long enough with Frey.

  I look around. Only family left.

  Now we’re gathered at the big oak table at the side of the house, out of the way of the cleanup crew. John-John has his head down on the table, an afternoon of partying finally catching up with him. Frey lifts him up gently and takes him upstairs for a nap while Dad pops the cork on a bottle of wine. When Frey returns, Dad has filled glasses for all of us, Trish included, though hers is less than a quarter filled.

  He raises his glass. “To a perfect day.”

  We all drink and Frey offers the next toast. “To family. Those united by blood, and those united by the heart.”

  I’m close to tears now—something I’ve managed to avoid all day. But I’m next in the circle around the table and I know just what I want to say. I take Frey’s hand. “To love. And we who are lucky enough to have found it.”

  Mom and Trish are side by side, arms linked. They raise their glasses together and Mom says, “To memories. As long as we hold those we love in our hearts, they will always be with us.”

  Tears I’ve been holding back want to flow freely now.

  And I let them.

  CHAPTER 32

  “HAPPY?”

  Frey’s voice at my ear.

  We’re in bed, naked under cool sheets, limbs entangled. My arm is thrown over Frey’s waist, his are around my shoulders. I’m floating in the afterglow of sex and feeding. I raise my head, trace his chin with a finger.

  “Never been happier. How about you?”

  “After what just happened, you have to ask?”

  Light is beginning to filter through the drapes of our bedroom. “It’s almost dawn. Think we should try to get some sleep?”

  He takes my hand, slides it down between his thighs. “We only have one honeymoon night. Or morning. I hear that once a couple gets married, they lose interest in sex. If that’s true . . .”

  But whatever crazy thing he was about to say is cut short by a gasp of pleasure.

  It’s not just my hand that’s found its way between his thighs.

  “Azhé’é? Anna? Are you up?”

  John-John’s voice and timid knocking on the bedroom door sends me hustling from beneath the sheets and both of us scampering for robes.

  Frey lifts an eyebrow and whispers, “Well, I was just about to be.”

  I slap his arm and grin, mouthing, Later, as I swing open the door.

  John-John scampers inside and jumps up on the bed. “I’m supposed to tell you that breakfast is ready!”

  I glance at the clock. “It’s only six. Who told you to come get us?”

  A giggle. “David. He said you like to get up real early. And today especially.”

  I grab John-John and tickle his stomach until he squeals. “David said that, did he?” I look over his head to Frey. “We’ll get even with him for this.”

  Frey grabs one of John-John’s hands, I take the other, and we swing him off the bed. “Well, he’d better have coffee made.” I pump a fist in the air. “Or I’m going to sock him one!”

  John-John laughs. “I want to see that.”

  And with John-John between us, we head downstairs to start our first day as a family.

  I expect to see everyone gathered around the table, David with a wicked grin to let us know he can guess what John-John interrupted.

  But instead, it’s just David and Tracey waiting for us in the kitchen. And their expressions are somber, serious.

  I look around. “Where’s Mom?”

  David leans down to John-John. “Will you please go upstairs and see if Trish is awake?”

  John-John’s face mirrors confusion. It’s obvious to even a young kid, David’s mood changed in the minutes he was away. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

  “I’ll tell you when you get back with Trish, all right?”

  John-John casts a look at Frey. “Go ahead, Shiye,” Frey says, turning him gently toward the stairs. He, too, catches the undertow in David’s voice. “And get dressed while you’re up there, okay?”

  Frey watches his son disappear through the door. “What’s going on, David?”

  He asks the question sounding an alarm in my head and gut—the question I couldn’t give voice to myself. Impulsively, I slip my hand into Frey’s, seeking its warmth and comfort.

  David’s eyes are on me. “It’s your mother, Anna. Your father has taken her to the hospital.”

  The next words he utters register somewhere in the back of my mind—something about not being able to wake her, that when he finally did, she was incoherent. That he called her doctor, bundled her into her robe and brought her right down. That he told David and Tracey what was happening and left driving instructions to the hospital and keys for the extra car in the garage.

  “Why didn’t you call for me?” My voice is surprisingly calm and quiet when what I want to do is scream and shake David because he didn’t come and get me.

  “There wasn’t time,” David replies. “Your father was gone before I could. But I wrote down the instructions. You and Frey should leave right away. We’ll stay here with Trish and John-John.”

  “No. Trish should come along, too.”

  David’s expression grows even more solemn. “Your dad asked that you two come alone. At least until the doctors determine what’s happening. You can come back for Trish when you know.”

  Frey is nodding. “He’s right. Maybe what happened was caused by exhaustion. Or overexcitement. Something easily treated and we’ll be bringing her home with us.”

  “Or maybe it was caused by the wedding.” The words barely clear my throat, it’s so tight and dry. The other possibility I can’t say aloud—but it’s shrieking in my head until I think surely David and Tracey must hear.

  Or because the truth of what I told her—what I am—suddenly dawned and she cou
ldn’t face it after all.

  “Come on, Anna.” Frey is reading my expression. I can tell he guesses what I am thinking as he steers me toward the stairs. “Don’t jump to conclusions. Let’s get dressed. The sooner we get to the hospital, the quicker we’ll know.”

  There’s nothing else to say. Frey and I run back to the bedroom, dress with otherworldly speed, pulling on jeans and tees and little else, aiming to be out the door before Trish and John-John reappear. We have to be. I couldn’t face Trish and tell her she can’t come with us.

  David and Tracey are startled by our sudden reappearance, dressed and grabbing for the directions and keys. But they don’t question us, letting us go with promises to take care of the kids.

  We find the car in the garage, a little vintage MG. Frey slips on sunglasses, the ones that allow his feline color blindness to be adjusted to human sight, and jumps behind the wheel. I let him drive. I couldn’t trust my shaking hands. He expertly puts the car in gear and we’re screaming down the driveway, my heart pounding so hard, my vision is clouded bloodred.

  The directions Dad left for the hospital are clear and easily followed. In ten minutes, we’ve arrived. Frey lets me off at the Emergency Room door and drives away to find a place to park.

  The ER is empty, save for an attendant in scrubs behind the admission’s desk. I tell her who I’m looking for. She consults a clipboard and directs me upstairs, the Oncology Critical Care Unit.

  The name does not inspire confidence. Still, I make it to the elevator without giving in to the impulse to break down. I can’t be weak now.

  I see my father sitting in a chair outside one of the examining rooms. He jumps up when he sees me coming toward him, opens his arms and cradles me the same way he did right after my brother died, crushing me to his chest, holding on as if to a lifeline.

  I hug him back, mindful of my strength. So much has changed since I was that seventeen-year-old mourning the loss of her brother. When I feel my father shaking, I question whether I should make it all stop. I have the power to bring Mom back to the family, healthy.

  But changed.

  Frey’s footsteps echo in the empty hallway. Dad lets me go, steps back. He clears his throat, turning his back to brush at his eyes with the back of his hand.