Immortal Wounds

by Nicole Grane

  Chapter 15: New Plan

  “Let me help you.” Marcus opened the car door and helped me in. He went around to the driver’s side and squeezed himself into the seat. He looked funny sitting behind the wheel of my little red car. I tried to suppress the laugh.

  “Owww!” I held onto my sides.

  “What’s wrong?” he looked as if he was trying to find a safe place to touch me without causing more pain.

  “You look so funny driving my girlie car,” I laughed and cried at the same time—the pain was almost worth it.

  Marcus glowered at me. “You shouldn’t be laughing; you’ll hurt yourself further,” he snapped.

  I turned my head and looked out the window. It was safer not to look at him. The temptation to laugh was too great.

  “Hey, what about your motorcycle?” I asked. Thinking back, I hadn’t seen it outside the house.

  “I parked it in your garage. I hope that’s alright?” He glanced over at me.

  “Yes, of course.” I liked the idea that something of Marcus’s was being stored at my house.

  I tried to sit still and not talk to much. My ribs felt like they were on fire. Even conversation hurt.

  “Luckily, the airport is only a few minutes away,” he said. “It’s rather quaint really.”

  “Quaint?” I groaned, trying to get comfortable in my seat.

  “Yes. Old fashioned, charming.”

  “I know what quaint means,” I nearly snapped. “I don’t need a dictionary definition.” I tried to recline back in the seat. I couldn’t get comfortable for a five-minute ride . . . how the hell was I going to last on a ten-hour flight?

  “You must be in pain, you’re crabby.”

  My mouth popped open. “Yes, I’m in pain. How can you sit there and joke about it?”

  “Because if I don’t, I’ll jump out of this car right now, track Brian down, and literally rip him apart, piece by piece!”

  I closed my gaping mouth and looked forward for the remainder of the drive.

  Marcus pulled into the long-term parking, put the ticket in the window, and got out of the car. He came around to the passenger side, opened my door, and extended his hand. I looked at it with apprehension. With one swift movement, he scooped me out of the car painlessly.

  “Would you like me to carry you?”

  “No, I can walk . . . just not fast,” I added quickly.

  He set me down on my feet and took up my luggage. We walked through the little airport, with his arm around me for support. We moved though the security gates, and continued down a small hall that led to the private planes. There, standing apart from the others, was a beautiful Lear jet.

  “Is that yours?” I gasped.

  “I’ve impressed you, at last!” he laughed lightly as he bounded up the stairs and into the plane. He returned for me a few moments later, still smiling.

  Without warning, he gingerly lifted me up into his arms again. “We don’t have all day for you to decide whether or not you can climb stairs, or wait for you to do so,” he said with a wink. Actually, I think he enjoyed any opportunity to hold me—something he’d been missing for centuries.

  I leaned my head against his chest and inhaled as deeply as I could without causing physical pain. I closed my eyes, savoring the moment . . . I suddenly felt very sleepy, as I always did when I’d taken in too much of him.

  “You rest here until we take off,” he instructed as he sat me down on a luxurious leather seat and clasped my seatbelt for me.

  “Where will you be?” I grabbed onto his hand in a panic.

  “Right beside you..” He reached out and cupped my cheek in his hand. “Relax. You’ll be fine.”

  I nodded and, with some reluctance, released his hand. “Wait! Then, who’s going to fly the plane?”

  “I have a pilot.”

  “Is he a . . .” I looked around to see if anyone else was there, “ . . . vampire too?”

  “No.” Marcus was quick to answer.

  “Does he know that you are?” I whispered.

  “Yes. I hired him many years ago. He’s very discreet, and very trustworthy. I needed to find you without any of the others around . . . I couldn’t risk anyone else finding out what I was doing here.”

  Just then, a slender man with dark black hair and green eyes walked through the door. “Good afternoon Sir . . . Miss,” he bowed his head and I nodded in return. “Sir, I have several messages for you from Mr. Raymose, and one from a Mr. Balfour.” He handed Marcus the slips of paper.

  I turned to Marcus in a panic. He ignored me.

  Marcus took the papers. “Was Damen here personally?”

  “Yes Sir. Not more than half an hour ago.”

  Marcus held a hand out in my direction. “Richard, this is Miss Phoebe. She does not wish to see Mr. Balfour under any circumstances.” He looked at Richard in an odd way—like the two of them shared some sort of code I wasn’t privy to.

  “Very good, Sir. Will there be anything else?”

  “Yes. Here is our flight plan. I’d like to take off immediately. We’ve already shown the officials our passports.”

  “Yes Sir.” He took the itinerary from Marcus and headed into the cockpit.

  “He’s a polite one! Why does he keep bowing and calling you Sir?”

  “I told you I was a nobleman—a lord actually. I’m part of the royal family,” he said casually.

  My mouth popped open, something it was doing a lot of.

  “My family line is different than the one that holds the throne today,” he added. “We had to arrange it that way. I don’t want to call attention to myself. People would notice that I’m not aging,” he explained.

  “Well, you’re certainly full of surprises.” I shook my head in disbelief.

  Marcus took the seat opposite me and began looking through his messages.

  “Marcus, Damen was here?” I spoke in a low voice, just in case Richard could hear.

  “Yes, he left this letter addressed to you.” He started to hand me the letter, but I shunned away from it, wincing as I did so.

  “Very well,” Marcus sighed. He opened the letter and began relaying the message

  “He says he knows you’re with me and that he doesn’t want to hurt you. He needs to see you, he has to explain . . .”

  “Explain what?” I snapped. “There’s nothing to explain!”

  “Don’t shoot the messenger, Phoebe.” Marcus gave me a disapproving look.

  I rolled my eyes. “Sorry . . . just . . . read the letter,” I said impatiently, ignoring Marcus’s frown.

  Dearest Phoebe, (Marcus choked on the salutation.)

  Please allow me to apologize to you for having to write this letter. I know that Marcus is looking after you right now and would never allow me to speak to you in person. I must first tell you that you are in no danger from me. I wouldn’t hurt you anymore than I’d hurt myself.

  This must all seem so confusing to you. I understand that you have acquired many of my memories, but I must tell you that you only have bits and pieces of the past. That being said, you must allow me to explain that I didn’t intentionally harm Phoebe. I only wanted to love her. I never meant to ravage her the way that I did.

  Marcus stopped reading and looked up at me, a look of betrayal hung heavy in his eyes. As if he thought I’d been keeping something else from him.

  My breath caught. My hands were clasped over my mouth—I was absolutely speechless. “Marcus, I . . .” I shook my head back and forth. “I don’t remember that,” I said honestly.

  The muscle under his eye ticked as he looked back at the letter and continued to read:

  As for the baby you spoke about, I am truly sorry you have the burden of carrying that memory with you. But, Phoebe gave me no choice. She asserted herself between Marcus and I; she wouldn’t let me pass without a fight—she was unfailingly loyal that way. I’ve regretted her death deeply and have carried the loss of her life with me these many centuries
.

  You and I are connected now in a way that cannot be broken. You have always been the love of my life, and now you belong to my world! Your father cannot deny me you any longer. I can finally end this war once and for all. The werewolves will have the freedom they’ve so deserved, and I shall have you. We will be together very soon!

  With all my love,

  Damen

  Marcus put the paper down and began looking at the other notes.

  I was on the edge of my seat. “That’s it?” I gasped. “You’re not going to say anything?” I snatched up the letter and read it myself.

  Marcus stared at me incredulously. “There is nothing more to discuss. If he wishes a fight, then he shall have it.”

  “You’re going to fight over me?”

  “I will die before I let him have you. You. Are. Mine!” His eyes had all but turned black.

  “I’m not a prize,” I snapped, turning my attention to the window. I was flattered, and infuriated at the same time. That Marcus would actually fight over me . . . he could get himself killed.

  “Phoebe, look at me.”

  I faced him reluctantly.

  “You are my life. You always have been. I’ve been without you for far too long. I won’t allow him to take you from me. Not again!” His resolve was undeniable.

  I pursed my lips. I tried to take a deep breath—my ribs still burned like they were on fire.

  “Darling, please. Don’t worry yourself about this; I’ll take care of it. Rest yourself.” He gave me a warm smile before he resumed his reading.

  “Rest? Are you crazy? There is a psychotic lovesick werewolf who has concocted an insane plan to win my heart—like that will somehow put an end to a war that’s been going on for a thousand years,” I argued. “Let’s not forgot about delusional Brian, who thinks that he can excuse his behavior by saying my scent was so appealing he couldn’t help himself—he had to have me.” I rolled my eyes and continued my rant. “Then there’s the vampire . . .” I motioned to Marcus who was watching me, as he no doubt thought I was cracking up. “ . . . Who thinks I’m such a treasure he’d risk his life to keep me. I don’t know which one of you is the craziest!”

  “This has to be a dream,” I thought out loud as I scrubbed my hand over my face. “No. Not even my imagination would hurt this much,” I grumped as I held my ribs again. “Stupid, Brian!”

  I became aware of Marcus’s stare. I had to look away.

  “You are a treasure,” he spoke softly. “I knew the moment I saw you in the garden, centuries ago, I’d love you the rest of my existence.”

  I turned back toward him. My anger, melting a little . . .

  “I’ve loved you for so long . . . even in death . . . there is no other way for me to exist. Now that I have you back . . . I can’t lose you again. I won’t lose you again!”

  “But to risk your life for me . . . I’m not the same Phoebe you loved so long ago.” I felt sad as I said this. I so wanted to be that Phoebe for him.

  Marcus leaned forward and took my hand. “You are my Phoebe. You fill the hole where my heart should be . . . I would die for you!”

  “Marcus . . .” I sighed. “I hope I don’t let you down. I hope I’m truly the Phoebe you want to love.”

  He leaned in and kissed my cheek softly. “You are,” he whispered across my ear.

  The plane started to move, and I looked out the window as we taxied toward the runway.

  “Lord Ashworth, we’re cleared for takeoff Sir,” Richard’s voice came over the intercom.

  “You weren’t joking . . . Lord Ashworth.” I grinned at him.

  Marcus looked as if he were blushing. He moved back to his seat and fastened his seatbelt. The plane made a smooth upward climb, and we were airborne in minutes.

  I watched Marcus as he studied one of the notes Richard had given him. “Is anything wrong?” I asked.

  “It’s from Raymose. Luther needs me back immediately. The werewolves have been growing in numbers far faster then we’d expected . . .”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that Damen has been very busy. He not only has time to torment you, but he’s also managed to form an army and create more werewolves.” Marcus crinkled the note in his hand and threw it angrily across the floor. He then pulled a ringing phone from his pocket and flipped it open. “Raymose! I’m sorry; I just received your messages.”

  I stayed perfectly silent. There was something frightening about knowing Marcus was talking to another vampire—a real vampire, Raymose at that. This still seemed like a strange fanciful dream to me. My recollection of Raymose was sketchy at best.

  “Please give my apologies to Luther. I’ve been . . . otherwise engaged.” He shot me a quick glance.

  “Of course it’s important. Do you think I’d have left if it wasn’t important?” Marcus’s tone became sharp. I found myself recoiling painfully in my chair.

  “No, I didn’t want to pull anyone else away . . . it was a quick decision. I wasn’t certain where Damen was heading . . . it’s just a hunch, but I believe he’s on his way back to England as we speak.”

  I looked at Marcus incredulously. How could he know that?

  “I’m in the air right now. I should be there in about thirteen hours,” he said as he glanced at his watch.

  Thirteen hours? I whined mentally. How was I going to last that long? I slumped in my chair, then suppressed a cry. There was no way I could sit in this chair for thirteen hours.

  “I’ll see you then.” Marcus snapped his phone shut and returned to his messages.

  We had been in the air for nearly half an hour. I watched Marcus off and on as he stared blankly out the window. He had been so quiet since his phone call with Raymose; I didn’t quite know what to make of it. I decided to break the silence since he obviously wasn’t.

  “Marcus, are you upset with me?”

  “Why would you ask that?” He looked genuinely surprised by the question.

  “You haven’t spoken a word to me since we took off. You’ve acted strangely since . . .” I almost hated to mention it. “Damen’s note.” I could feel the tension return almost instantaneously.

  “I don’t seem to be able to keep him from finding you,” he admitted.

  “Damen said that he and I are connected now . . . that he can track my scent.” I tried to casually sniff under my arm to see if I smelled.

  “It’s not that kind of scent,” Marcus laughed.

  I was turning red again; I could feel the heat of the blush on my cheeks.

  “You are connected, but only because he bit you.”

  My eyebrows furrowed.

  “A werewolf never forgets the scent of the ones they change,” he explained. “They can usually smell each other within a mile. But not you . . . Damen has a stronger connection to you. He can track you from much further away. Not only that, but he knew you’d be on this plane with me.” Marcus growled in frustration. “I don’t know how he’s doing it. If he were following us, I would sense him.”

  We sat in quiet for some time, watching the clouds out the window. The sun was shining through the heavens, and it was breathtaking. But all its beauty couldn’t lift the tension that was undoubtedly looming over us.

  “Marcus?”

  “Yes, my love?”

  I kept my eyes to the window. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see his reaction to my next question.

  “I’d just wondered if you’ve reconsidered . . . turning me?” My voice was softer than I’d intended.

  “No. I told you. I don’t know what that would do to you. There’s never been—” he shook his head. “Not if there’s another way. I won’t chance it.”

  “But what if there isn’t another way? What if Damen finds me and—”

  “He won’t!”

  “Marcus, I’ve thought about this. I don’t want to be like him. I’d rather be like you.”

  “Phoebe . . .”

  “What if I were dying an
d biting me was the only way to keep us together . . . would you do it then?”

  He reached out and took my hands in his. “There is always another way . . .” he whispered as he leaned in and placed a kiss across my lips.

  Ignoring the pain, I threw my arms around him. I didn’t want to let go. I didn’t share his view. There wasn’t always a way, and I couldn’t help but feel that my time with Marcus was ticking away. There was something in Damen’s note that left me believing my mortality was nearing an end. I could sense it.

  “Darling, what is it?” He pulled gently away from me, staring at my torn expression.

  “Marcus please—”

  “Phoebe, this is ridiculous,” he nearly growled in frustration. “You’re not dying!” He removed my arms and sank back into his chair, not even wanting to look at me. “Don’t ask me to do this . . . I can’t turn you. If I didn’t stop drinking . . . I’d be the cause of your death.” He shook his head wearily. I knew he didn’t like to deny me, but in his mind, my request was beyond reason.

  “I haven’t bit a human in so long; I’ve avoided the temptation. If I were to revert . . .” He looked like he was going to be sick. “Don’t ask me to damn your soul!”

  “Damen already did that, didn’t he?” The words flew angrily from my lips.

  Marcus's head dropped with a sigh.

  “You’d let me die then . . . again.” It wasn’t a question.

  His head snapped up. I could see the anger building in his eyes, but I couldn’t let this go.

  “If I’m going to die anyway, wouldn’t you want to take a chance on saving me? Unless of course you don’t want to spend the rest of eternity with me.” Oh God . . . I hadn’t thought of that.

  “You know I want to spend the rest of time with you,” he scolded me for doubting him. “But you wouldn’t be just a vampire. You’re asking me to turn you into the unknown.”

  I turned away from him. Tears threatened to spill at any moment.

  “Phoebe, you must understand—”

  “I’m sorry I put you in this position,” I interrupted. “I know it’s not in your nature to love someone like me.”

  Marcus caught my chin and turned my face back to his, his thumb gently wiping away a tear that had fallen. I could see his resolve break.

  “Alright,” he said in defeat as he went down on one knee before me and bowed his head. “I swear to you . . . that I will move heaven, or hell for that matter, to keep you with me. Even if that means turning you into the unknown.”

  I threw my arms around him.

  “But only if there is no other way, Phoebe” he reiterated. “You have to literally be dying . . .”

  I held onto him tighter still. The rest of his words lost. Nothing else mattered. I knew that if the worst were to happen to me, I’d always have Marcus. He’d find a way to save me—to keep us together—he’d never let me die.