“He does have a long life ahead of him. It is just quite a bit longer than what he originally had.” My mother shrugged. How could she be so calm about his condition?
“Have you told Greg?” I felt I needed to ask about Wesley’s father, especially since it was his birthday as well as mine.
“No, we figured we needed to give Wesley time to get used to his skin. He can control the constant shifting of his eyes; somewhat, it is still not enough to convince his family he is still human.” She looked upset at keeping things from her long-term friend.
“If Greg already knows about this world, then why would Wesley have to hide anything?” I asked, enjoying the fact the conversation was geared away from me.
“It’s one thing to tell a father his son is special; it is quite another to tell him he is immortal.” My mother stopped what she was doing and looked at me. “If you were to lose all your power and become human, I would feel I failed as a parent.”
“That’s comforting to know. So, if I’m bitten by a human, I will become one?” I laughed.
“Don’t kid about such horrible things. There are reasons He gave them the world to do with as they please,” my mother sighed.
“You ladies talking about me?” Wesley asked, walking into the room, and perching himself against the countertops.
“Were you always this egotistical, and we just didn’t see it?” I probed, as my mother hid a laugh.
“I actually think some of those diplomats infested me with a higher quality of life. I’m sure, aside from the rapid eye changing, you find yourself drawn to me at every turn.” He smiled and pointed at the tub. “What are you two doing?”
“Each group brings a specific food to dinner each night. Tonight, the manor is bringing a salad,” my mom replied, grabbing a box of carrots and putting them on the counter.
He shook his head. “So, dinner here is one large potluck? Miranda had some form of meat on a spit and gallons of water and wine.” He held his hand out, and I handed him a peeler.
“Yes. I do recall turning quite a few of those water barrels into blood for the vampires in her group,” I said as mom started to hand me carrots. I washed them eagerly before handing them off to Wesley.
“You know that was awfully kind of you to do. I mean, seeing as you were there to get data,” Wesley said, placing a peeled carrot on the table.
“I had a role to play,” I murmured, my voice catching.
“Listen, I know you were attached to many of them. They weren’t all bad people. They were just following misguided directions. They honestly believed the purebloods were going to wipe them out. Miranda didn’t exactly tell the truth about things you know,” Wesley pointed out.
“I know,” I said softly, handing him another carrot.
The faces of those that died haunted me. I still believed the camp was attacked prematurely. They could have given me several days to turn things around. I was confident I could change their minds. Nobody had to die that day.
“So, what else is for dinner tonight?” he asked, changing the subject.
“It’s Italian night, so anything they feel would contribute,” Mom replied politely, smiling at him.
“Where does the food come from?” he asked as the pile of carrots began to increase on the table.
“We blocked off several acres just for food growth. Helen and her group take care of the growth patterns. Other items that we need come from shipments via truck and helicopter. Damien owns quite a few canning facilities overseas and interstate.” She answered his question plainly but truthfully.
“You have it all planned out then,” Wesley said, shrugging.
“I would like to think so.” She laughed as she handed me the last few carrots.
“This is quite a compound you have created here. How many people are between each apartment in the barn houses?” He nodded toward the window.
“Little by little, we have expanded the barns’ capacity below ground. The more levels we create, the fewer people are pushed into the rooms,” Mom answered, grabbing a knife and cutting board and heading toward the table.
“When did you start doing that?” I asked, taking the box of tomatoes, and beginning their cleaning process.
“Shortly after you left for Dallas with Mona,” she answered.
They had made quite a few changes while I was gone. I supposed having levels below ground was safer for the vampires and other nocturnal creatures. It probably made the demons feel closer to home as well.
“Have you told the young man’s parents about what happened today?” Wesley asked. While I was grateful for the subject change, I did not feel this was where the conversation needed to go.
“Yes, they took it rather well. By rather well, I mean, they didn’t release the plague on us.” My mother’s reply was stale. Had she expected them to lash out because of their son’s murder? Then I wondered if the parents had found solace in knowing the murderer was already in custody. There would be justice for the death of the young Blessed One.
“What happened to Nick?” I pushed. If Wesley could ask his questions, I could ask mine. I deserved to know what had happened to the Prophet. Even though he had brought all of us together, he had caused more damage than good. He was the reason for the strife between Helen, Rose, and me.
“The court declared him guilty of treason,” she replied tensely. She refused to make eye contact with me, so I knew the whole day was tearing her up inside.
“Have you talked to Mary?” I’m not sure what compelled me to ask about Nick’s mother, but something told me my mother would have spoken to her if she could.
She put her knife down and turned to look at me. “Mary wouldn’t speak to me. She already knew.”
During those few years we had lived in El Paso with Chase, I had met Mary on only a handful of occasions. Nothing really worth speaking about until then. She was a kind woman, always brought me trinkets of grandeur, and she loved my mother beyond belief. To hear, she had refused my mother’s company concerned me. There was far more to Miranda’s plot than a threat against Nick’s family.
“What’s Mary’s last name?” Wesley asked as he sliced through a soft tomato, a satisfied expression on his face. Throughout the small exchange I had with my mother, he had remained expressionless.
“Peterson,” she answered him, raising her eyebrow.
“Mary Peterson? Brown hair, bright blue eyes?”
“Yeah. How did you know that?”
How could Wesley know someone whom he had never met?
“Probably best for Nick to be where he is then.” He frowned and shook his head.
“What do you mean?” I asked curtly. I hated how he was letting things out little by little instead of giving all the information at once.
“Mary was held in the prison section of the camp for the first two weeks she was there. That is until she started to cooperate with Miranda. She did a few jobs, brought in a few other prisoners, and rose rather quickly up the chain. I don’t know where she was found or what she has said, but that woman turned against all of you without hesitation or threat.” Wesley spoke evenly. Where an average person would have had fluctuation in the story, he sounded as if he was only reciting what he had seen. I was sure he was traumatized by the events in the camp, but I had no idea it would make him so numb.
“It just keeps getting better and better,” I moaned as my mother’s face paled.
“Mary was a good woman. I don’t understand any of this.” I watched a single tear slide down my mother’s cheek. She did not move to wipe it away, only stood there with her hands at her side staring off into the distance.
“Shawn once told me, you cannot trust even those you think you know well,” I replied, then closed my eyes. “Or did he say something else. Anyway, someone somewhere told me that, and I’m starting to see the truth in it.”
“Still, Mary was always so kind to you and me.” She turned and placed both her hands palm down on the table.
“I think ce
rtain beings have a capability to cave,” Wesley chimed in. Of course, he had to get his two cents in. His emotionless assistance was not what she needed. I grew angry at him, the longer he stood there.
“What about you? Did you ever cooperate?” I narrowed my eyes at him, and he gave me an offended expression.
“I cooperated enough to keep myself alive. I let those women do things to me, so I got to keep this pretty face.” He shook his head wildly. “If they asked me to do anything else, I probably would have taken death.”
Our eyes locked. There was a tremendous amount of sadness behind them. I was quite sure he felt trapped in his own skin. Whatever they had done to him, not only left him with an increased life expectancy but broke whatever remained of his spirit. The silence that followed was suffocating until he finally decided to break the ice.
“Either way, what’s done is done. There is no going back now. We cannot change something that has already been finished.”
I was starting to wonder if time travel existed, and someone had screwed this all up. Was it even possible? I suppose it was wishful thinking that took me in the direction of science fiction. However, what I wouldn’t give to be able to go back in time and change the outcome. Probably not the healthiest of thoughts to have when there’s a war brewing on the horizon.
“What are your big plans for tomorrow?” Wesley asked once we had finished dinner.
We were sitting on the lawn, looking at the stars. For some reason, Wesley had been stuck to my hip all afternoon. Continually asking questions about how things ran, and why I wouldn’t just give it another shot with him. By the time the sun went down, I had found myself praying my father would come back and take him away.
“Same as today, I guess. What about you?”
“It’s a big day for both of us. I mean, it’s not twenty-one, but nineteen is pretty good,” he replied as his hand inched closer to mine.
“You do realize we won’t age? I mean, not really. We will forever be stuck in teenage bodies. Turning nineteen apparently means much less to me than it does to you,” I stated as I began to grab handfuls of grass.
“Yes, I realize that, but it is the only connection I have to my mother now. It’s the only day of the year I feel I truly made her happy. She died before all of this, thank God, but I am still her baby boy, and I am happy for every year I have on this planet.” He revealed his true thoughts on the matter. It made sense to me suddenly, why he was so happy to live another year.
“I’m sorry I didn’t think about that. Of course, I can see your point.” I apologized for my statement, even though it did not change the way I felt. This was his way of feeling connected to his mother after all these years. I could respect his thoughts on the day of our births.
“You know, she used to tell me stories about your family when I was a child. Back before I learned, we were the caretakers for this house,” he said, changing the subject.
“Wait. Caretakers?” I asked, my eyes shooting to him. My mother had mentioned Greta and Greg watched over the house until her death. Why would Greta tell Wesley anything about the house and the family who once lived there?
“Yeah, in fact, the day Miranda laid Claim on my soul, I was in the front room,” he growled. I could tell the memory was not a fond one, but the words that escaped his lips were acid to my ears.
I nearly fell over as the fear coursed through me. I had to take a few moments to let the whole conversation set in. Wesley had been in our house with Miranda years before we had even met. What did that mean? Why was I not grasping the whole situation? I sat there staring at him with a dumbfounded expression on my face, shocked by the revelation Miranda had been in my home.
“Are you telling me, Miranda knows where this house is?” I demanded about to jump to my feet. The shock was still holding me in place, but I was certain if I could just get to my feet, I could get to my parents.
“I doubt she would remember it. We were only here a few times,” he said shrugging. I wanted to slap him. He had just admitted to the enemy being at my house. How could he not see the negative repercussions that could happen from this one act?
Didn’t he think this was something we needed to know?
“I doubt she forgot, Wesley. Do my parents know?” I asked seriously; I was going to lose my mind. The shock was starting to wear off, and I was beginning to feel the adrenaline increase. If he didn’t understand what he had done, I was going to set him on fire.
“I didn’t think it was important. It was almost three years ago,” he replied defensively.
“I think it is crucial. My parents have prided themselves on being somewhere she had never been. If she knows where the house is, she could show up in the front yard at any moment,” I growled at him. “How could you have been so stupid?”
“I was sixteen, and she was hot. I used to come to the house and rake leaves as a kid. I thought it was a good place to … you know.” He looked at me with that odd expression of a boy who was being driven by his hormones.
“We have to tell my parents. We have to tell them now,” I groaned. “Midvale was never the intended target. Harrisville was.”
He watched as I jumped to my feet, my pulse pounding in my ears. He just looked at me in awe, or I should say his eyes clouded over, and he had the same expression as he had shown earlier that day. Somehow, someway, I had actually triggered a vision.
“My notepad, Dawn, it’s in my back pocket. Can you reach it?” he asked me, his hands already starting to move.
I got down on the ground and started digging under him until my fingers rested on the spiral binding of the stenographer’s pad. I grabbed it along with a graphite pencil and handed it to him, while his hands continued to move.
When he stopped, and his eyes cleared, he looked at the picture and frowned. The drawing was of a pissed-off Miranda standing in a field of broken bodies. She had returned to find her home invaded, her people dead. I knew this was going to happen, she had left me in charge, and the unthinkable happened. I knew she was going to want revenge. I had failed in the one mission she had given me. I had been forewarned of the Pureblooded men in the mountains, and yet I had failed. If she didn’t want revenge on Prudence, she sure as hell wanted it on me.
“I hate to say this, Dawn.” Wesley gulped. “She’s coming.”
“Of course, she is! She knew damn well where we were the whole time. She was waiting for an attack, a reason to come back here.” I grabbed his hand and helped him up.
Once on his feet, he wrapped his hands around my waist and pulled me to him. I had to look up into his eyes; those beautiful blue eyes. I grabbed him by the biceps, meaning to push him away when he started to speak.
“I am so sorry for all of this. I do find it odd, each move in this game of chess somehow involves either you or me.” He let me go willingly, and I stumbled backward.
“Yeah, well, let’s get inside. I think we have to start clearing out Harrisville.” I grabbed him by the arm and dragged him behind me. The few times I turned to look at him, he had a huge shit-eating grin on his face.
Chapter Nine
Stupid Boy
“Well, isn’t that an interesting turn of events,” my father stated as we stood in his office. Wesley had explained everything that had occurred with Miranda in our home three years earlier.
“I didn’t think it was relevant to anything going on here now,” Wesley replied, and my father nodded.
“No, I could see how this would slip your mind. It was three years ago. The good thing is you said something. Now we know what to be ready for.” He picked up the drawing and looked at it. “I told her it was too soon.”
“Excuse me, Sir?” Wesley asked, leaning forward.
“Nothing, son.” He sighed. “I suppose we need to start producing a plan. Lilly will be here in a few days if she is truly coming. Knowing her, she’s going to make a few stops along the way just to try and throw us off.”
“What do we need to do now?” I asked, trying to ta
ke a step away from Wesley. Being close to him was making my skin boil. I couldn’t get over the fact she had Claimed him inside the house.
“Put the lieutenants on high alert. Have them explain to those willing to fight what could be happening. I will have the Blessed Ones strengthen the spells around the house just in case. Maybe it will give us an advantage,” my mother uttered after being silent for the whole discussion. “I will not be taken by surprise.”
“You heard her. Get with the others. Tell them what happened. Thankfully, this came early enough we can head it off. She doesn’t have you anymore, Wesley, she won’t know if she will be successful or not.” My father patted him on the shoulder and left the room.
“That is slightly comforting,” I said to him as he looked after my father, confused.
“I may be the deciding factor in prophecies with Miranda, but I wasn’t the only one who could see the future. She had a complete set of seers.” He looked at me, bewildered. “Well I shouldn’t say she did, it was her mother.”
“I stand corrected,” I declared dully, wanting to smack him upside the head.
“I doubt she will be here tonight or tomorrow. She knows I saw her, I’m sure of it. She’s going to wait until she feels I’m not watching her.” Wesley sounded so incredibly sure of himself. I, of course, wasn’t so sure.
“If you say so, Wesley,” I replied, patting him on the arm.
“No, really,” he interjected.
I stared at him. How did I ever believe I had found my one true love in him? I had been deceived from the very beginning. Maybe not on purpose, but he had known then what could potentially be coming. What did he think would happen once he knew my bloodline? Did he really think we would make it through all of this together?
“I have to tell my brother and Minerva to be on alert. You want to come with, or did you have something better to do?” I was shocked; I even asked him to join me, but for some reason, I felt comfort in having him near me right then. If he had another vision, I would be the first to know.
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