“My God, that’s brilliant!” Henry said excitedly. “Although, this might not get me the best parenting award.”
“Who cares? You can just buy some new kids if you need ‘em,” said the snake.
Glasses clinked, and the unity of sick minds rang throughout the ballroom. A deep, stomach-churning shiver rolled up my spine and my knees started to shake.
“Do you believe in destiny, Michael?” Henry asked.
“Sir?”
“Are you one of those ‘one door closes and another door opens’ kind of guy? Do you think where you end up is pre-planned? Or that it’s ‘in the cards’, or that things are so entirely out of your hands that it’s actually the decision of the universe? Or, better yet… that it’s God’s plan for you?”
“All that very well could be true, sir, but I’m not—”
“Weak! Those notions are weak minded! People use them as an excuse for their shitty circumstances, blaming the consequences of their poor choices on destiny. It’s pure and utter bullshit. I am where I am because I put myself here. I made this fortune out of that dying, pathetic company. Me! I made it happen, not bloody destiny!”
I moved away from the door and out of the ballroom, barely able to see through the blinding tears that rolled relentlessly down my cheeks. I considered Kaya to be my child and loved her more than anything. All the scotch in the world wasn’t going to help me through this.
The security office was open and completely empty, which I thought was odd, but I didn’t question it. Instead, I plunked myself down at Old Carl’s desk in complete shock over what I had just heard. Henry killed Lenore? My Kaya, pregnant? A plan to kill her, the baby, and Oliver? I could barely wrap my head around this information. All the strange things that had happened over the years suddenly made sense, but along with this new knowledge came the horrific realization that Henry was sick—more so than I’d ever imagined. Greed had made a monster of him.
I didn’t want to forget a thing I’d heard. I tried to relay everything in an email to Kaya, wishing I could type a little faster than my two-finger-chicken-peck method allowed. I sent a detailed explanation of what I’d heard to one of her old accounts—a secret one we’d used for a childhood game—and then I prayed to God she’d somehow see it. I told her I loved her. I told her goodbye. And I told her to never, ever, come back here again.
I erased the message from the sent folder and closed out the internet tab. I was numb, dumbstruck, and most definitely sober.
When I restored the computer back to the security settings, I noticed movement on the basement corridor camera. There was a man standing in the back stairwell in an area that was completely off limits. Wiping at my swollen eyes, I realized it was Old Carl, looking nervous and glancing behind often as he quickly walked toward the locked door of the records room. Once inside, he frantically dug through labeled boxes, wiped sweat off his noticeably damp forehead, and mumbled under his breath. When he seemed to find what he was looking for, he grinned madly, and then he plugged a disc into a computer.
I zoomed in on him, able to make out the folders saved on his screen as they popped up and saw he was looking at video security logs—from eighteen years ago.
Carl fast-forwarded through footage of people coming and going when the estate still functioned as a hotel. I’d been a guard for a year by then, after having trained for five beforehand, and remembered that time very well. I’d watched Lenore transform from an incredibly intelligent beauty to a crazed and somewhat violent empty shell of a woman…
Carl studied the screen intently, then pushed pause when the face of a beautiful woman with long, flowing dark hair came into view. The woman, in a long gown and sparkling jewelry, was the spitting image of Kaya. Her arm was linked through Henry’s, and he was leading her into the lobby of the now boarded-up north section of the estate. Carl put his hand on the monitor and shook his head, as if saddened by the image, and then fast-forwarded again. He kept searching for something, and when a video of Henry coming out of a hotel room with a baby in his arms popped up, he seemed excited. I zoomed in even closer to see Henry walking swiftly down a hall with a newborn in a flowery baby blanket… and if I hadn’t have been sitting down, I might have fallen over—I knew that flowery blanket. The baby was Kaya.
Anne was right.
Now the screen showed the woman with the long, dark hair, her hands bound and mouth gagged, struggling as she was dragged down the dark hallway by a man in a black suit—and that man in the suit was Old Carl.
I pulled out my gun and placed it on his desk, then leaned back and put my feet up. It was about time, after all these years, to get some damn answers.
The sun shone brilliantly. We lay in the grass basking in its rays and watched the small child dance through the sprinkler, her giggles and squeals of happiness giving me warm fuzzies from head-to-toe. She looked exactly like him—like the beautiful man stretched out beside me with the gorgeous grin on his face.
“Kaya…” he said.
The heat of him was glorious. His breath brushed my cheek, and his shirt buttons were smooth under my fingertips. He repeated my name, but I was too cozy and too content to answer. I wiggled my way in as close as I could and heard him laugh—it was that same glorious sound that had captured my heart. If I kept my eyes closed tight, maybe it would echo endlessly… forever…
“Kaya, c’mon, you gotta wake up,” he said gently.
A hand was on my shoulder shaking me. The child had disappeared, and so had the sun.
“You’ve been asleep for over sixteen hours now. Please, wake up, okay? You’re starting to freak me out…”
Luke was pleading with me. The concern in his voice flicked on a switch in my head and with it came a dull ache. Sixteen hours? Asleep? I opened my eyes to look directly at him. Our noses were almost touching. His cheeks had more stubble than I remembered.
“Hi,” he said, looking somewhat relieved.
“Hi,” I said, completely confused. Why was I was snuggled up with him? Why was his arm under my head and his hand on my cheek?
“You’ve had me so worried. How is your head?”
“My head?” The last thing I remembered was lying next to a fire with Brutus, freezing while Luke doctored my arm, which, suddenly started to throb. “My head… I think, is fine… Did I really sleep for sixteen hours?” I asked, my throat scratchy and dry.
“Yes, I woke you up to give you water and more painkillers, but other than that—”
“And you? Did you sleep, too?” I asked, noticing the dark shadows under his eyes.
“Yeah, on and off. Don’t worry about me. I’m perfectly fine. All right? Now, do you think you could sit up, Kaya? I want to show you something.”
I said yes, but I wasn’t really sure.
“Close your eyes.” He slowly pulled his arm out from under my head, taking his body heat with him as he sat up. My throbbing arm and hip bone reminded me that the pain had only been subdued by medicine. My ears hurt—so did my neck and my hands. Even my hair hurt. I breathed deeply, managing to adjust myself into a cross-legged position while his hand supported my back.
“Now, open your eyes,” he said with a tinge of excitement.
I forced them open. But, I thought maybe I had fallen asleep again. Was this for real? “Uh, Luke, am I awake?”
He laughed, “Yes.”
I had died and gone to heaven—it was the only thing that made sense. We were in a huge cavern with massive arches of red-and-white stone hovering above our heads at least ten stories high. At the top, there was a huge crack letting in light. It reflected off a pool of glistening water below, making raindrops sparkle as they poured in.
Impossible.
I blinked a few times, but the image just got better. I ran the palm of my hand gently over the fine grains of sand under my legs—it was dark like charcoal and made a small beach next to the smooth stones that bordered the pool. Was the water bubbling? I took in a gloriously warm breath. Never in my life had I seen a
place as magnificent as this.
“Can you believe it? An underground hot spring, untouched by human hands,” Luke said.
“If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.”
“It’s no dream; it’s our paradise. I’m naming it Kayatown,” he said with that enchanting smile.
“I think Lukeville has a better ring to it.” A small fire gently crackled, and I noticed something cooking over it. My mouth began to salivate, and my stomach groaned.
“Stew—it’s instant, but it will be good and hot.”
“Oh, wow, I can’t believe how hungry I am,” I said, and then I noticed that my jaw hurt, too—without those painkillers, I would be in pure agony. “How did you find this place?” I asked, cautiously bending the elbow of my uninjured arm to test it, and then I felt a tender lump on the top of my head beneath some matted, crusty hair.
“At the back of that cave was a tunnel. I carried you here… and you didn’t even budge. I was so worried about you. I still am.”
“I’m okay,” I said. But I was kind of worried about myself, too.
He took his hand slowly away from my back and went about fixing dinner. I blinked often and discreetly pinched myself. This was too good to be real. Everything shined and shimmered—the water, the rocks, the smooth walls—even Luke seemed to glow as he tended the fire.
“Dinner’s ready,” he said as he pulled two silver packets from the flames, shaking his fingers as the heat threatened to cook them too. I laughed when Brutus bounced up out of a dead sleep and sniffed the air. “You laughing at me, Miss Lowen?”
“Oh no, sir. I would never laugh at someone making me dinner,” I joked. Then I coughed and liquid came up. Luke eyed me warily. “I’m okay,” I said to his worried face.
He wandered off for a second then returned with a large, rather flat rock. “Our table is ready, madam,” he said sweetly, and he plunked the stone down between us.
“Thanks, I thought you might give it to someone else. I didn’t make reservations.”
He grinned and eased the knife through the foil packets. “Beef stew with potatoes and carrots, but no forks. Damn, this restaurant sucks!”
I liked that he was trying to be light hearted. He stuck the point of the knife it into a brown cube of meat dripping with sauce, and then he blew air on it before he raised it to my lips.
“I’ve never had beef before,” I said, my mouth watering for it.
“That’s okay, I’ve never cooked in a cave before,” he smiled.
Henry’s ramblings played heavy on my conscience. I wasn’t supposed to eat meat—I wasn’t allowed to eat meat—the rabbit Regan made was delicious, but I’d had to force it down. Luke sensed my conflict. “Kaya, don’t worry about other people’s opinions. Form your own and do what’s best for you. I’ll respect your choice, whatever it may be.”
I was hungry, but I was so completely satisfied in the knowledge that I was free to make my own choice that it was like I’d experienced an awakening of sorts. I plucked the cube off the knife, held it in my mouth, and then chewed. The texture was unlike anything I’d ever had, and it tasted absolutely delicious. Luke took a bite too, then scooped up some more on the knife and held it out to me. We ate like that, taking turns, him watching me closely.
“That’s the best meal I have ever had,” I admitted when the packets were almost empty and Brutus begged for the rest.
“Well, I’ll make sure to give your compliment to the chef.”
“And thank him for taking care of me as well.”
“I will.”
He lifted an eyebrow in the most charming way. “Someday I would like to cook for you—for real.”
“You can actually cook?” I said, taken aback, suddenly realizing how little I really knew about him.
“Can’t you?” he asked.
“No. I can make tea.”
“Oh. Well, you’ll be a blast in the kitchen, then.”
I could picture it: him and I standing over pots of boiling water, chopping herbs, tasting tomato sauces off spoons, shiny white cupboards and an old cat sleeping on a rug, blooming flower boxes under every window…
“You’re going to be all right, Kaya,” he said. “Your father’s men are out there. If I can’t get you out of these mountains, they will. I’m just surprised they haven’t found us yet.” He wiped the knife clean, lost in thought for a moment.
I was expecting him to convince me that I shouldn’t go back, but here he was comforting me selflessly. Even hurting as much as I was though, I didn’t want to be anywhere else than right here with him.
“Hey, let me see your ankle,” he said and held his hand out.
I leaned back a bit and carefully placed my foot in his open palm.
“There are a lot of bruises on your upper thigh, but this part of your leg seems fine. The tracking device doesn’t seem damaged. Maybe the storm is keeping them away.”
“Uh, how do you know what my upper thigh looks like?” I asked.
He had a puzzled look on his face. “Do you remember me pulling you—uh, out of the river?” he asked, gulping hard. I could tell whatever had happened was something he would like to forget.
“No…”
“Do you remember what I had to do to your arm?”
“Vaguely. I remember the smell of skin burning, watching my clothes dangle in the trees, and dreaming of the baby girl with the blue eyes…” That vision was still so vivid—the baby who looked like him, drifting away, and then being carried off toward a white light. I remembered his breath pushing into my lungs, his terrified face as he held his shredded shirt to my head and his heavy breathing as he carried me through the storm… “Oh my God,” I said, staring at him in awe.
“What?” his eyes widened.
I couldn’t help it. I embarrassingly leaned in and wrapped my functioning arm around him, ignoring my pains and aches to satisfy an overwhelming urge to hug him.
“You saved my life. Without you, I would be dead,” I said, close to tears.
He held me, softly wrapping his arms around me and not saying a word. I stayed close to him longer than was appropriate, emotionally and physically unable to pull away. Then, out of nowhere, a pain shot across my abdomen. It was like a sudden jolt, stabbing and steeling my breath. I doubled over in his arms.
“Kaya, what’s wrong?”
Then, just as quickly as it had come, the pain was gone.
“Nothing—just a cramp. I probably ate too fast.”
“So, how hot is the water?” I asked after waking from a nap on the soft sand.
“Huh? Oh… I don’t know,” Luke answered.
He seemed distant. Busying himself, but doing nothing. The hug after dinner had made him uncomfortable; I could tell, so I wouldn’t do it again. “Would be nice to wash up,” I hinted, feeling quite a bit better. The food and rest had done wonders for my throbbing head.
He kneeled down at the water’s edge and dipped in his fingers. “It’s like a perfectly warm bath. Wow, it’s amazing.”
I had to see for myself, so I tried to stand but promptly fell back on my butt. “Nothing seems to be working right,” I complained.
“Yeah, you got beat up pretty badly. Let me help you.”
He guided me carefully to a flat spot next to the water where I could sit and reach in. I couldn’t move my wounded arm because he’d wrapped it to my chest, so I used the other to rub the warm, somewhat salty water into my eyes. It was glorious. I tried to get some water on the back of my neck where patches of crusty blood were stuck to my skin, but only having one useable hand made everything nearly impossible. In a matter of minutes, I had become wildly irritated and was desperate to get clean. Luke sensed my frustration.
“I’ll go in and scoop up water for you so you can at least wash your face,” he said flatly and began unbuttoning his shirt.
I didn’t understand why he was affectionate not long ago, holding me tenderly in his arms, and now he seemed cold and detached. Then I noticed the bandag
es I’d carefully taped across his chest were not even remotely covering his wounds anymore. The skin around the crude stitches was scarlet red and very inflamed looking. Some places had bled again and looked infected. Maybe he was just in a lot of pain.
“Look away…” he said, unzipping his pants.
I was mesmerized by the muscles prominently rippling down his stomach to the flat part just above his belt. If my eyes weren’t still so tired, there’s no way I would have been able to keep them shut. I heard him move into the water, and soon I felt a damp hand on my knee.
“Okay. It’s safe,” he said.
His belly button was just above the surface of the steaming pool. I tried to keep focus on his face and nowhere below it. He cupped his hands together and lifted some water up to me.
“Luke, I want to go in, too,” I said in an almost-whiny voice.
“I really don’t think that’s a good idea, Kaya.”
“Please…”
“You can’t get your arm wet.”
“Please…” I begged again then playfully batted my eyelashes at him.
“Well, it’s fairly shallow right here. I guess we could keep your arm dry if I held you up.”
I stuck out my feet out so he could pull off my shoes, and then I leaned back on my elbow so he could wiggle my pants down over my hips. He was very careful to avoid the giant purple bruise, and his face was all business when he came right up the edge of the pool, his head level with my stomach. With shaking hands, he undid the buttons on my shirt. I looked down, grateful I was still wearing the sports bra and underwear and that I wasn’t completely naked. I couldn’t have cared less, but I knew my bare skin made him nervous.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He lifted me off the ledge and into the water with him, his hands staying tight around my waist as he steadied me in the churning pool. Instantly, my aching muscles relaxed—this was glorious. The bubbling, hot water was taking away my aches and pains, but not my worry; Luke’s wounds looked bad—scary bad. I overlooked the fact that he was naked and busied myself by dripping water over the patchy sewing job on his chest and gently rubbed away the dried blood. He tensed. “Is everything okay?” I asked.
[Nightmusic 01.0] Serenade Page 26
