by Renea Mason
Reaching out, I ran my fingertips over the relief of the embroidered pattern. What was once a symbol of a proud people was now nothing more than evidence of his crime. One look in his eyes and I knew he needed what only I could supply—forgiveness.
He had provided it for me when I was forced to do the unthinkable. Now it was my duty to provide it for him.
“You didn’t know. You were confused. You wouldn’t have done it otherwise. I know that about you.”
He kissed the top of my head. “Light, of all the gifts you give me, and there are many, it’s your absolution for all I’ve done that leaves me at a loss. How can the same universe that permitted my atrocities allow me the love and redemption I find in you? In all my time on this planet, I’ve never believed in angels, but your very existence makes me wonder.”
I sniffed as the tears returned, making me swallow the words I wanted to say.
“Go on, go with Clarence. If you sense anything off, leave and get back to me or call me. Trust your instincts. Be cautious.” He stroked a finger down my cheek and crumpled the cloth in his hand. “Even though I never thought it possible…” He trailed his finger over my collarbone, between my breasts, and stopped with his palm resting on my stomach. “You’re twice as important to me now.” He planted a quick kiss on my lips. “I love you.”
I closed my eyes, struggling to gain my composure. Someone cleared their throat from behind me. Overton.
“I…I’m sorry. I don’t mean to interrupt, but did you find what you were looking for, Cyril? I was thinking it might be a good idea for me to take it to the lab.”
Cyril extended his hand and offered him the cloth.
Overton took it, but the nervousness evident in his stance and facial expression caused my anxiety to spike. “Linden… Uh…You need to have an exam to make sure you and the baby are OK. I can do everything at the hospital.”
The last time I visited him at the children’s hospital, we ended up fucking on the couch in his office. After, I released the souls of children he cared for. My heart ached at the thought. His request seemed like a reasonable thing to do, so then why his hesitancy? “OK, but what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’d also like to do genetic testing. It never hurts to be safe.”
I wondered if that included verifying if he was the father, but I didn’t ask.
“Sure. But Clarence and I were just headed out.”
He smiled. “Would you mind if I came along?”
I raised an eyebrow in suspicion. “Don’t trust me with Clarence?”
Cyril’s snicker died when I turned and focused my piercing stare on him.
Overton placed a hand on my arm. “Love, the last time you two were alone together, you got him killed.”
“So unfair,” I mumbled under my breath.
“Care to welcome me as a tagalong, or would you rather I make a nuisance of myself?”
I eyed him with suspicion. “Come on.”
Before I could walk away, Cyril pulled me in for a hug. Very uncharacteristic of him. He enveloped me in his warmth. A soft hum resonated in his chest. He said nothing. Didn’t move, simply held me. I rubbed my hand up and down his back and mumbled against his chest, “You OK?”
He leaned back and looked down into my eyes. “Yes. I was just remembering what it was like to almost lose you in that stream. When I couldn’t save you, how helpless I felt and how I never want to come that close to losing you again. So please, don’t give Stanton grief.”
“OK. You better watch out; I might get used to you being all mushy.”
“No worries, Light. If you ever do, I’ll fuck it right out of you.” A sly smile stretched across his face.
“Almost makes me want to try.”
His mischief was attracted to mine, like a moth to a flame, and equally destructive in its execution.
Overton cleared his throat. “Ahem… Linden, are you ready?”
I released the hand of one lover and took the hand of my other.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Test
Clarence stepped out of the doorway just as Overton pushed past him with his hands filled with various medical supplies. Clarence shifted his weight, fidgeting, his thoughts a jumbled mess, but every now and then a clear one emerged.
I kicked my feet as they hung from the table.
“Dr. Stanton, could you please tell Clarence you won’t do a pelvic exam with him in the room?”
Overton chuckled. “A pelvic exam is pointless at your stage of pregnancy. We must wait until you’re much further along.”
“Thank fuck.” Clarence blew out a loud breath.
I giggled, but the sound was soon stifled by the needle in Overton’s hand. “What are you doing?”
He smirked. “Surely, you’re not afraid of needles. You can rip the soul out of people, yet if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re terrified.”
I licked my lips, my salvia thick from anxiety. “No. I mean… Why do you need it?”
“For the genetic testing, and I also want to see if there are any similarities between your blood and the blood of the woman Cyril killed. Since you both caused him to become intoxicated, I’m looking to see if there is some substance in your blood that might act like alcohol for him.”
Clarence perked up and pushed away from the wall. “Intoxicated? Cyril? Now that is something I have got to see.”
“It was bizarre.” I let out a strained laugh.
Clarence chuckled. “Can’t even imagine what kind of destruction that dude could cause if he said, ‘Here hold my beer.’ The apocalypse, I tell you.”
I studied Overton for a moment. “Do you think whatever Vidius put in my mouth, if it was just… Cyril’s… you know… could be the cause?”
“Possible, but I didn’t get drunk.” He placed the capped needle on the sterile tray and grabbed the tourniquet. The elastic puckered the skin of my upper arm as he stretched it into a tight knot. “Now make a fist.”
I closed my eyes, realizing how ridiculous it was to be nervous. Cyril was far more dangerous than a tiny needle, and he drank from me frequently.
He sanitized my skin with an alcohol pad and waited a moment for the cold liquid to dry. I barely felt the needle, but that didn’t keep me from gritting my teeth.
“Relax your hand.” He loosened the band around my bicep and slid the needle from my skin. “Now see, love? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He placed a folded gauze square over the pricked vein at the bend in my arm and covered it with tape. Surprising me, he pressed a kiss to my lips, then pulled away, smiling. “Why don’t you and Clarence head to the cafe and grab a bite to eat while I run down to the lab and get this analyzed? They have some pretty sophisticated equipment here. I no longer have to wait days for results.”
He clasped my hand and helped me down from the table. A quick kiss on my forehead, and Overton handed me off to Clarence, who ushered me through the door.
* * *
“So…” Clarence wrapped his arm around my shoulder as the elevator door closed. “Just when I think you can’t surprise me…”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t make me get you killed again.”
“You saved me. You could have let me die. So I know the truth.” He squeezed my shoulder. “You love me.”
I shook my head in disbelief. The chatter-filled lobby of the Children’s Hospital was a welcome sound. It blended with the constant buzzing coming from Clarence’s head and made it almost feel natural.
Clarence motioned toward a small table situated outside the quaint bistro. There, we were tucked into a quiet corner of the lobby and could watch the people passing by without being noticed. “What can I get you to drink?” the bubbly woman asked.
I was exhausted. “Coffee. The biggest cup of coffee you can find.”
“Oh, hell no! There is no way I’m taking shit from Overton for buying you coffee. Try again.”
My nostrils flared at the instant irritation that surged through me. “Why the fuck does Overton
care if I drink coffee?”
He slapped his hand over my mouth. “Will you watch your mouth? We’re in a Children’s Hospital.”
My gaze could have burned a hole through him. I mumbled, “Fuck you,” against the palm of his hand.
“Did you forget already that you’re pregnant?”
I had. It was very easy to forget. “You have got to be kidding me. Pregnant women can’t drink coffee? I knew about alcohol, but no coffee? Might as well kill me now.” I cupped my hands over my face and groaned.
“Oh, no way… Now I ask again, what would you like to drink?”
I cocked my head to the side so I could read the menu. “Apple juice.”
“Was that so hard?”
I nearly growled at him. “Just get my drink.”
I averted my gaze from Clarence, too pissed off to look at him, and settled my attention on the elevator doors opening across the lobby. Overton stepped out, scanning the cafe tables until he made eye contact with me. A tall, beautiful brunette woman emerged from behind him. The worry lines on his brow didn’t escape my notice.
I stood up as they both approached.
My tinge of jealousy was extinguished when he grabbed my hands and pressed his lips to mine. “Love, Dr. Grant here will take care of your exam. I hope you don’t mind.”
I searched his eyes and saw the trouble brewing behind them. “What’s wrong?”
He kissed me again, squeezing my hand. He caused the ring Cyril gave me to rotate on my finger, and again my soul was tied in knots. Somewhat engaged to one. In love with them both. Would I ever figure this out? I longed for the day it would all fall into place.
His expression was soft and reassuring. “Nothing’s wrong, love. I must head back to the house to get something, but I’ll return. This is just a routine exam, so I’ve asked Dr. Grant to do it. That way you, Clarence, and I can do something fun when I’m finished.”
I was suspicious about the way he selected his words with such care. “OK.”
Another kiss. “I love you. I’ll be back soon.”
Dr. Grant waved her hand, motioning for me to follow. “Mrs. Stanton, if you’ll come with me.”
Overton practiced medicine under the name Dr. O.M. Stanton. I remembered reading it on his lab coat the day I discovered he was a doctor. I shot him an incredulous stare.
He smiled, mischief pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, Dr. Grant, please do take good care of my wife. She and the baby are everything to me.”
She returned his smile. “Will do.”
I couldn’t close my mouth. This seemed to amuse Overton even more.
Clarence’s thoughts broke through the buzzing of the lobby, and it didn’t help matters. “Oh…she’s going to kill him. Dude, you are so going to get it. Good thing he’s hard to kill.” Clarence crossed his legs, took a sip of his coffee, and called out, “Mrs. Stanton, I’ll be right here waiting when you’re done.”
I snaked my arm behind my back and flipped him the bird.
“Linden, the children. Think of the children,” Clarence chided.
I’d be sure to kick his ass later.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Blood
Dr. Grant gave me the all clear, even though I hated myself for not being excited when Overton’s joy was so tangible. Cyril was easier to handle in many ways. We were both drowning in a swirling abyss of uncertainty.
Several hours after leaving the hospital, I fidgeted in the chair in Cyril’s living room.
Clarence swatted me. His thoughts were clear.
I answered him without making him say the words out loud. “Don’t even say it. I already heard what you were thinking. I know it must be important. Why would Overton call and ask us to come home?” Address his mental inquiries didn’t ease any tension. I bounced my leg, trying to relieve the nervous energy.
Cyril was the first to arrive. “Light.” He bent and kissed the top of my head. “Do you know what this is all about?”
“No. Clarence and I went to the hospital with Overton for some tests, then he said he was coming back here. We went to lunch, but he called saying he needed to see me right away.”
“Hmm… me too.” In an uncharacteristic move, Cyril picked me up from the chair, coaxing a squeal from my throat.
“What are you doing?”
He sat, folded me into his lap, and wrapped his arms around me. “Nothing. I wanted to hold you. I haven’t seen you all day.”
“Oh…” Before I could finish, Overton entered the room.
Clarence perched on the edge of a leather sofa, elbows resting on his knees. “What is that? Please tell me there isn’t homework after this little shindig.”
Overton paid Clarence no mind and laid a stack of papers and an electronic tablet on the coffee table. He took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. Exhaling a sigh, he began. “I’m sorry for all the cloak and dagger communications, but I wanted to make sure before I caused any concern.” He skimmed his other hand along the seam of his black dress pants.
Cyril straightened, scooting me to the edge of his lap.
Overton made eye contact with him, and their silent exchange made a pit form in my stomach. Clarence noticed too.
Cyril squeezed my arm as he pulled the information straight from Overton’s mind.
I couldn’t take it anymore. “Between Clarence screaming ‘what the fuck’ in his mind and you two leaving me out of the conversation, I’m a nervous wreck. Tell me, please.”
“Cyril, do you want to tell her, or shall I?”
Cyril pulled me closer. “Go ahead. You have the details.”
Clarence interjected, “Somebody better fucking say something soon.”
“Love…” Overton took two steps forward and cupped my cheek. “First, let me put your mind at ease. There is absolutely nothing wrong with our child.”
It was impossible not to notice Cyril flinch at his words. I clutched his knee, squeezing it to let him know I was there for him.
“Dr. Grant said all your vitals were normal, and your blood work looked fine.”
“Then what?”
“Remember the cloth Cyril had with the Celtic girl’s blood on it?”
It was my turn to flinch. “Yes.”
“I tested the blood, looking for clues to why both you and the girl had an intoxicating effect on Cyril.”
The heaviness in the room left me uneasy. I ignored his play on words, preferring to get to the point. “What did you find?”
He picked up the tablet. “Well…at first, since Cyril provided the rather graphic details of his encounter with the young woman, I considered she might have been pregnant before their encounter. It was the only thing that made sense. But he told me he’d drunk from other pregnant women over the years with no impact.”
My back stiffened. I hated thinking of him with other women. I hated thinking of the things he had done without me. The things he had to do to survive so he could discover who he was.
Cyril massaged my back in slow, comforting circles.
“Since pregnancy alone wasn’t the answer, I looked further. Toxicology. Thinking, perhaps, the substance you ingested from Vidius might have been the key. Still nothing.”
“So, you have no idea what it was?”
“No.” He placed the tablet on the table, dug through the stack of papers, and proclaimed, “Ah, here it is. I decided to look at genetics. That’s when things got strange.”
“How?”
“Yeah, strange how?” Clarence echoed. “Like alien DNA, or she’s the long-lost descendant of Henry the Eighth? Strange around here requires some serious clarification.”
Overton shot Clarence an incredulous look. “Linden, you’re related to the young Celtic woman. But that’s not the strangest thing. There was a sequence in your DNA that I’ve seen before. My enhanced memory allows me to remember things like that.”
“What? For God’s sake just say it.” I shifted in Cyril’s lap.
“You, the Celtic wo
man, and Celestine are all related.”
My brow furrowed while I tried to make sense of what he was saying.
“Whoa. Damn.” Clarence’s quiet utterance broke the tension.
“Look, I can give you all the details, but you are related to those two women. I don’t know how it’s possible, or what the statistical probability of you all crossing Cyril’s path is, but the DNA doesn’t lie.”
I turned my head to look at Cyril, seeking reassurance, but his eyes were closed, and his somber expression heightened my anxiety.
“It still doesn’t explain why Cyril became intoxicated. Cyril, do you remember anything out of the ordinary from your encounter with Celestine?”
“No, but I didn’t bite her.” The defeat in Cyril’s voice was tangible.
I slid off Cyril’s lap and paced to the end table and back, not sure what to think.
Cyril stood. “Thank you, Stanton. If you come up with any other theories, let me know.”
He took the first of several steps toward the door.
Overton nodded and placed the papers back on the stack.
I heard the distinct sound of Cyril’s footsteps on the tiles in the hallway.
Clarence’s stomach growled. “Linden, you hungry? I’m headed to the kitchen for a snack.”
“No, thanks.” Without a second thought, I sprinted out the door and down the hallway, snagging Cyril’s arm just as he was about to enter his study. I peered up at him. “What are you doing?”
He opened the door and stepped inside without answering.
“Cyril?”
His inhalation was tainted with frustration. “What? What is it you want to know? About how I’m going to dig through this shit looking for women like you, starting at the beginning of time?”
I recoiled from his harsh tone. “No, I’m just worried about how you might be feeling.”
“Feeling? You’re worried about my feelings? You’re a Trojan horse sent here to finally finish the job, and you’re worried? How fucking priceless.” He stared up at the hand-painted cloud motif on the ceiling. “You know what? They can have me. I’m done. Fuck this world. There’s nothing for me here. Never has been. Just another way to torture me.”
