by Ruby Raine
She had an ominous feeling about this one...
Or maybe it was the dodgy looking street she found herself on. She spun around soaking in the location—was it The Demon Isle? It was similar, but not quite right. There were cobblestone streets and firelit lanterns throwing orange glows all around her. But something about it wasn't right for the Isle.
She walked a bit and let out a shiver and realized she was in her bedclothes. A tank top and shorts, but by the grace of whatever force was in charge of this, she had on slippers.
She stopped, listening. Was that a river?
She crossed the street and sure enough, this town was on the banks of a river. She made her way closer, but her balance staggered when she lifted her gaze to see—a castle. A freaking castle sitting high up on a hill off in the distance.
She spun around breathlessly. Where the hell was she?
Clip clop. Clip clop. Clip Clop.
She darted back to the edge of a building and watched as a carriage drove by. Not the recently restored, antique types like were used on the Isle. This driver was dressed in clothes straight out of an ancient history book.
Why did she get the distinct impression that whatever this was, it was the distant past, and not the future? Which made no sense as she only saw the future and how people died so she could save them. Was her gift changing?
She stepped back onto the sidewalk looking around for anything that might tell her why she was here. Other than the carriage driver she hadn't seen anyone else. But the carriage was already rolling out of view.
"Hello." A young voice called out from behind her.
She spun around to see a young boy around nine or ten, in warm pajamas and a robe.
"Hello there," she replied with a fleeting smile.
"I saw you from my bedroom window. Are you lost? You look lost."
She chuckled. "I guess I am. Don't suppose you can tell me where I am?" Although, by the boy's accent, he was probably German. And was he the reason she was here?
"This is Trier, Germany."
"Oh. Okay." She was definitely out of her league here. Why the hell was she in Germany, clearly in the past?
She saw visions of people about to die...
These people, this little boy, had been dead a long, long time.
There was nothing to change here. No one to save.
"Who are you?" he asked her.
She smiled sweetly at the boy. "I'm Melinda. And who are you?"
"You're really pretty," he told her, but didn't answer her question. Instead, he gawked at her like she was some sort of angel. Of course, for these times, she was rather scantily clad. Shit. What if others could see her and not just this boy? She needed to get off the street.
The boy held out his hand.
"We should get inside. It's not safe to be out here at night. At least, that's what my momma says."
"Why isn't it safe?"
"The moon's almost over the tops of the buildings. We have to get inside before that happens."
"Why?" she asked again.
"So the monsters don't get us."
"Monsters?"
He nodded, getting wide-eyed and fearful.
"The demons will come for you if you're not indoors before the moon tips over the edge of the rooftops. That's what my momma says. It's what all the mommas say. Although, I think they are lying. I think it's just because she hates it when I sneak out at night."
"Troublemaker, are you?"
He laughed delightfully. "That's something my momma says too. Come." He stretched out his hand for her to take it.
She grabbed his hand and he led her across the street to a charming house. However, they did not go through the front door, but rather tiptoed down a small pathway to the side of the house and an open window. He had a box underneath the sill to climb in with.
"You really do sneak out a lot, don’t you?"
"I like to lie on the ground and look up at the stars. She only really gets mad if I fall asleep and forget to climb back into bed. She says I daydream too much."
"I think all parents say that at some point."
They climbed inside.
There was a toasty fire going and Melinda hopped over to warm herself. She looked about, this way and that. It was the room of a child, no doubt. Orderly and cleaned up, but also cozy and welcoming. And even though his mother gave him hell about daydreaming, it was filled with whimsical toys and playthings. Plus a painted fantasy scape mural on his wall.
"You never told me your name," she said to the boy. His stare deepened, only now in the lamplight of his bedroom did she notice the green specks in his eyes.
"Vilhelm. Vilhelm Wakefield."
She made a garbled attempt at a reply and forgot to blink and breathe.
This was impossible.
A crazy dream and nothing more.
Her subconscious mind had probably been stuck on the William subject before falling asleep, and therefore, she was now dreaming of him. But as a young boy? That threw her for another loop.
Was she really staring down at William? Her William, as a young boy. Still innocent, and still human.
But how? Because he'd died a long, long time ago. He'd been turned at age thirty-one. And he was speaking with a German accent. How odd, because it was barely an inflection in real life. He must have lost it over the years.
Why would she be seeing this? She couldn't change the past. She couldn't undo what was done. She had no way to stop his death.
And my God, though! He was freaking adorable as a boy. The same spark had never left his eyes. And the same dimples adorned his cheeks. The same shape of his smile. It was so apparent now that she was really looking.
The bedroom door opened and soft light poured in. Melinda froze, assuming she'd be found out. But the woman who entered acted like she wasn't even there. Apparently, only William could see her, or talk to her.
"Why aren't you in bed, Vilhelm? Quick now. Be a good lad." She padded over and closed the window he'd left open.
"Yes, Momma."
She went about tucking in her son and kissed his head.
William's mother. His freaking mother. Wow. Wow. Wow.
Melinda didn't know why but her eyes got a little watery.
How surreal. How difficult it must be for William, today, to have lived so long and have only a memory of this so distant, it must seem almost foreign at this point. But a treasure, Melinda thought. To witness such a precious thing from his past. Something she'd guess no one else in recent history had ever done. And that was assuming this was a real memory of the past.
Things got weird again though.
Melinda watched a ghost-like shape push its way upward, out of young William from on his bed. It rose and formed into that of a man—William as Melinda recognized him. A grown man. Peering longingly down at himself in the bed, and his mother doting on him.
Melinda got the distinct impression in that moment, that whatever the hell this was, she was seeing real history. And this was William as a boy. And this was his real mother tucking him in and humming a song to lull him to sleep.
"Life was so innocent then," William sighed from beside her. Melinda didn't know what to say. It was quite the thing just to see him after all his time away, never mind whatever they were witnessing together in this dream.
"Your mother is beautiful." Was all she came up with. "You're pretty adorable yourself."
He twisted to see her, a question quirking his gaze.
"Are you real? I can't tell."
She nodded. Hell—something super bizarre was going on if William wasn't even sure she was real.
He let a breath sink out of him. "I didn't want this."
She wasn't sure what he meant, but nothing changed and his gaze returned to his mother.
"I can't remember the last time I saw her face. I'd forgotten what she looked like."
"That must be hard, not to remember."
"Yes. But it’s a curse of this life. One of many. To live so many
lifetimes, it's impossible to keep in current memory all those things you do not wish to forget."
It was hard to fathom living so long you'd forget what your own mother looked like. Then again, in today's age, they had photos and videos to help when things got fuzzy.
Melinda sucked in and turned to William. "Is this a dream? Are we dream sharing? I thought you were too far away?"
"For me to easily enter your mind, yes. I'm afraid I have accidentally dragged you into something far darker than a shared dream." Which was saying something seeing how dark her dreams often were.
She furrowed her brow. "It's sad, yes. Nostalgic even. But it's just you as a little boy. A rather adorable boy. And your mother."
"If I was in my right mind I'd send you away. But as it is, I am not. And I have lost all control, which is why you ended up here with me."
"Why would you send me away?" she couldn't help but feel a bit hurt by his dismissal of her presence.
"My demons are coming for me." His eyes closed as if he was begging some secret power to end this before it started.
"William?" she called out in question.
His gaze fixed on hers and the room started to spin, the floor disappearing under their feet.
The innocent young boy and his mother vanished into the blackness.
Melinda caught her breath and gasped when a golden glow opened up over their heads, lighting up the darkness to an eerie yellow.
"What is all of this, William? Where are we?"
"In the depths of my mind. Memories I haven't been able to reach in many years. Fears that I buried in the darkest of recesses. My deepest regrets. And my most wanted desires. My transgressions..." His eyes took on a wild warning. It wasn't so dissimilar to when she'd told him to run, when he'd first found her tied to a stake in White Pines. But then he'd not left her, gotten caught, and tortured. And just like him, she was compelled to do the same thing: stay and face the nightmare.
"Please don't try to make me leave. Please let me do this with you."
She had no clue what was happening, or why William was going through this, but he needed her. He must have because his subconscious mind had dragged her into this. And she'd never turn her back on the vampire she loved.
TURNS OUT, THE MIDDLE of the night in White Pines was pretty darn dark and creepy. Even with the nearly full moon lifting high overhead—its silvery shadows just added to the creep factor. And while Lucas was grateful for the company, he wished of all people it wasn't Mathew Bishop. However, he was the only other person free tonight to take watch at the Power Source and Lucas was not confident enough in his own abilities to manage it on his own.
Courtney had offered, but half-heartedly. They were worried about her, but she claimed she was just a bit worn from the transition and dealing with some lingering human shit. Still, it was a bad idea for a moody vampire to be out and about, especially a new one still trying to keep the blood cravings at bay. So, they'd suggested she take it easy instead.
She'd agreed. But remained restless. Only she wasn't sharing why.
Lucas also had the worry of when his new gift might kick in. He had no way to tell when a glimpse of the past might suck him out of the current moment, and he didn't need another Lizzy disaster again.
Mathew had driven them here—another problem. Lucas still didn't dare drive yet. He wondered if he'd ever be able to again. It made getting around much harder, especially since he couldn't just ask Riley to drive him.
Mathew had seemed insistent that as Lucas accepted his gift, and had more experience with it, he'd start to see the signs of it happening. Lucas sure hoped the Guardian was right, but he was having a difficult time taking anything Mathew said, seriously. But that was just Lucas being stubborn and he knew it, but still... it wasn't easy to believe a guy who'd lied to him about who he was, and broken his heart—way harder to get past.
Michael, Melinda, Charlie, and Lizzy had been sharing and taking turns on watch, and during the daylight hours had just one of them keeping a lookout. When after a couple days they were already feeling stretched thin, they'd begun to debate whether it was really needed. But after Courtney's run-in with the Feyk the night Charlotte Howard almost returned from the grave, they hadn't wanted to take any chances.
So far, tonight was quiet—except for the night animals making their eerie noises and the shadows casting under the moonlight.
Lucas accepted a cup of coffee from a thermos Lizzy had handed Mathew earlier that evening, and nodded in clipped thanks. Even in this humid night air a hot cup of coffee was damn soothing to the nerves.
They'd made their rounds a few times, checking the alarm system and the perimeter, and as another night of watch was half-way spent, they were indeed wondering if there was any point to the vigil. The biggest hurdle was that even if the alarm Michael set up, went off, it would take them a good thirty minutes to get here and check it out. They couldn't always count on Courtney to fly to the rescue. And since her run-in, nothing new or sinister had happened. Of course, letting their guard down was not an option either, and the alarm system Michael had built and installed was still working perfectly.
It came down to them being on edge and not wanting to be caught off guard.
And with Lucas' poor magical skills, having someone like Mathew around for backup was a smart idea.
But shit.
Of all the people.
Lucas let out an audible sigh that Mathew guessed the meaning of instantly.
"I don't have to stay if it makes you uncomfortable." His offer was genuine, but held a touch disappointment too.
"I already told you, it's fine. It's not like we have lots of people to take your place." His insinuation, I wish there were.
"I didn't mean for you to get stuck with me. I'm just trying to do what I'm here for. Help where it's needed."
"It's really fine, Mathew." But he refused eye contact with the Guardian.
Mathew fidgeted, the awkward silence, telling of the tension still heavy between them. "More coffee?" he offered.
"No. I'm good. Thanks."
It was about as deep a conversation as they'd tried.
Small talk.
Weather. Coffee. More weather. More coffee.
"Should we do another alarm check?" Lucas asked simply because he was on edge. The tension was about as uncomfortable as the rock under his ass. And the rest of the night was going to be super freaking long if he didn't at least try to engage. Especially as his mind unwillingly wandered into dark and steamy territory—more like the dark nights he'd shared with the man—Guardian—sitting a few feet away glowing under the moonlight like the beautiful angel he was.
Dammit.
He couldn't afford thinking like that. He'd just get his heart broken all over again. As it was, seeing Mathew every damn day was shitty memory enough. And another constant reminder of how much magic had screwed with him and his life.
"I don't think we need to check it this soon," Mathew answered.
Lucas nodded and chewed his bottom lip. "So, um," he cleared his throat, pressing down the steamy, unwanted memories. "I don't know much about this Power Source, other than it exists and for some reason we need to protect it."
"I don't know everything about it either," Mathew claimed.
Lucas lifted a brow, like, yeah, right. "More things you're not allowed to share, more like."
Mathew sighed. "I speak the truth, Lucas. I don't know everything about everything. But I can share all I do know."
"That's a change." The bitterness was obvious. Apparently, it was only the Lucas Deane subject Mathew was ordered to be silent about, and he didn't argue the point.
"The Power Source is important. Vital, even, to the survival of magic."
"Then why not have it guarded day and night every damn day? Hell, no one even knew where the damn thing was until recently."
"And until that happened, it was the safest way to protect it. Keep it lost. The less attention drawn to it, the better."
; "And now that's it's been found?"
"The Howard's will do what they've always done, and protect it."
"Yeah, and while they've always done this, I'm pretty sure in the past there were a hell of a lot more of them. But why is it so vital to magic? And why not just destroy it and let magic die? It's not like magic does the world any good."
"I would argue that point, but it seems useless with you."
"You can't deny magic has its pitfalls."
"I would never argue that. But it also has its benefits. And those far outweigh the pitfalls, Lucas. Magic isn't the problem. People are. To be human is to be flawed. We're not all perfectly good or perfectly bad. But in the end, we do choose to lean one way or the other. People, and bad choices cause damage, not magic."
"If magic didn't exist there would be one less massive weapon for bad people to get their hands on."
"It's not so simple."
"Well, maybe it should be," Lucas argued. "And why do Guardians care so much about magic? Or what happens in the supernatural world? I mean, are you even part of that world? Aren’t you all like, I don't know, angels or something?"
Mathew went silent. But after a thoughtful moment said, "Not angels." But he did not expand on the subject.
"Topic you can't discuss," Lucas assumed. Why had he insisted on talking? Oh, right. Long ass uncomfortable night ahead. He ground his jaw, trying to be understanding but he just didn't have it in him. Not when it came to Mathew, apparently. Because every time he looked at the guy it was like a knife straight through his chest.
"I don't know how to make you see it," Mathew sighed out. "Magic can do a lot of good. Just look at you."
"Me?"
"Yes. You. Without your gift, Lucas, that woman you saved would have died. Possibly her baby too. Because of your vision of that man and his illness, you saved two lives. And at the least, kept a mother alive to raise her baby."
"And while that is indeed an incredible thing, and I don't take it lightly, the good just doesn't outweigh the bad. Not in my book. We are out here right now instead of curled up in our beds because more bad people want to come back and start another damn war."