“We’ll go to the mainland and visit the hospital first thing in the morning,” West assured me. “I’ll help you try again in just a little while.”
Logan, still silent, walked toward the bed. His blue eyes were so unfamiliar, and I wished for a moment that his brown eyes would return. “She’s so… little.” He stepped back slightly, a smile working at his lips. “Red hair?”
“And her eyes are green,” I said to him, grinning. “They look exactly like mine.”
Violet refused to blink. “So, technically she’s my… big sister?”
Logan rolled his eyes, ignoring her and focusing on me. “How do you feel, Roam?”
I considered my tired body, though my mind raced. “I’m sore… and sleepy. It just all happened so fast-”
Violet huffed. “Not from our end. It felt like forever. Then when I realized you could have already had the baby, we had to tie Troy up, because… what if when we killed him, we really- killed him, you know? I miss cell phones.” She lifted her eyes to West’s. “Can I hold her?”
He nodded. Though I needed to rest, I reluctantly handed Eva to Violet. She accepted the baby with grace, careful to support her head. Eva continued to sleep, exhaling so noisily that the four of us chuckled in unison from under our breaths.
“She’s a cutie,” Logan admitted quietly. “I like how her nostrils flare like that when she’s fussy. Reminds me of a bull. Or her dad.”
West rolled his eyes, but I could tell that he was just as entertained by her adorable facial expressions.
“What next?” Violet asked, her eyes never leaving her sister’s face.
“Roam needs to rest.” West walked to my side, reaching out to knead my shoulder. “I’m taking them both to the hospital in the morning. Violet, Logan, can you sleep in the living room, on the davenport?”
“What? The porch?” Violet lowered the baby back into my arms. “Like a dog?”
“It’s a couch,” I murmured. West pressed his fingers between his eyes tiredly.
“I’m sorry… yes, the couch.”
“We’ll be fine, don’t worry about us.” Logan glanced at the pile of bloody towels, blankets, and sheets in the corner of the bedroom. “I’m guessing there’s no twenty-four-hour Laundromat around here.”
“We have Tide in the kitchen… and a wringer near the back door,” he said, watching their confused faces before turning to me defeatedly.
“A wringer is like a… press, to squeeze the water out of clothing. No washer, no dryer.” I shrugged. “I’ll do my best with the laundry tomorrow. Let’s just try to sleep. Where is Troy again?” I asked nervously.
West lowered next to me on the bed. “There is a little shanty behind the house, for storage. He’s there, bound and gagged.” He folded a pillow under his head as I fought back a yawn. “In the morning, Violet and Logan can question him while I take you to the mainland for a doctor.”
“Okay.” I turned to my side, my eyelids refusing to operate. “I want to hold her, but I want to sleep,” I explained, unable to adequately articulate my confusion as the irresistible lull of sleep beckoned me.
“I’ve got her, baby. I’m going to make some coffee. Just sleep.”
. . .
My hands grip silver mugs of foamy ale. I nearly trip as I scan the room.
A bar?
No, a pub, with crude wooden tables hosting inebriated sots.
Sots? When have I ever used that word?
“Ah-ha, gentlemen, may I present…” A man stands atop his chair, propping one leg on the high back while hoisting his cup into the air, “young Isa, the Spanish rose.” He rolls his tongue, spitting foully before brushing the back of his arm over his lips. Lewd catcalls pierce my ears.
“What?” I back away from him, lowering the mugs to a table.
Mirror… where’s my mirror? I finally find the mirror on the wall near the door. It is liquefied but clearly reflecting my appearance.
Black hair, green eyes, tiny waist, full chest… judging by my wench’s gown, I estimate the date to be 1790.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen.” A man’s voice, so familiar, rings out from the crowd. I step back, not believing my eyes as West climbs on top of another chair, swaying and obviously drunk. “This innocent rose has yet to be… plucked.” His wordplay draws vulgar shouts and laughter. “But I may know the man for the job!”
I’m dreaming…
I’m safe, I realize, crossing my arms over my breasts.
Clearing my throat, I call out to him. “Sir, if you think that you have the qualifications, you may attend to your work… upstairs,” I drawl, curling my finger at him as I back toward a staircase that I guess leads to the balcony over our heads.
Eager cheers fill the warm tavern and several men grab West under his armpits, escorting him to the stairs. I can’t help but laugh.
Really, West? Is this how you spent the eighteenth century?
“Hurry up… let’s get on with the… plucking, before I wake up,” I tease, pleased to see that his abs are, in fact, immortal as his blousy shirt lifts above his belt while they carry him. Whistling and laughter drown out his smiling words as his eyes struggle to focus.
“How did I get so lucky?” he asks as he lands in front of me, those sapphire blue eyes gleaming wildly beneath drunken lids.
“Maybe you deserve a break,” I say, my accent clearly of Spanish influence.
“A break?” He narrows his eyes in confusion at my expression, following me as I back up the stairs. Beaming wickedly, his brows jump twice above his gaze. “It hurts a little the first time, you know,” he breathes, the smell of alcohol thick on this tongue.
Careful not to touch him, I slide the beige fabric of my left sleeve up my elbow, offering him my blank plane of tanned skin. “I know,” I mouth seductively.
He stops in midstride, calculating my words. “Is it you?”
. . .
“That is not poop. That is some kind of… demonic waste. Something is wrong with her. West, something is wrong with that.”
“It’s normal. It’s called meconium. Violet, hand me another warm rag-”
“I really think that we should just throw this one out. I mean, it’s destroyed.”
“No, I can clean it.”
“Is she okay?” I asked, watching as Violet and West bent over Eva on the floor. She lay on a blanket crying pathetically, and I struggled to sit up.
“She’s hungry. How do you feel?” West asked, smiling at me. His warm eyes were calming, and I held my arms out for him. “You were talking in your sleep.”
“Talking… that’s a nice way to put it,” Violet scoffed, folding the cloth diaper neatly around Eva’s waist. “You know, they do have baby bottles in the fifties. West told me. If the breast thing isn’t working. She’s kind of starving over here.”
Guilt forced my face to redden. “Give her to me,” I said, reaching for her, and West carried her to me. I let him prop me up against some pillows as I pushed at my nightgown. “I need to go to the bathroom, but I can’t let her starve for another minute-”
“You can’t feed her if you’re uncomfortable. Go to the bathroom,” he admonished, taking her back. “Violet, don’t exaggerate, she’s not starving. And she likes when I rock her. She’ll be okay for a few minutes.”
I hurried to the bathroom, amazed that my body, or Annie’s body, could still function after such an ordeal. I knew that women gave birth every day and it was perfectly natural, but I never expected to feel so normal after just having a baby.
I returned to the bedroom and found only West and Eva.
“Okay,” West began, and I recognized his teacher tone immediately. “We’re going to do this together,” he began, helping me prop my arm up comfortably. Eva began to cry as he moved her into my arms. “Just show her that you’re in charge,” he encouraged.
I grinned skeptically. “She’s not a puppy,” I said. He smirked before lowering his lips to mine.
“Okay, do whatever you thin
k is best, Mrs. Perry.”
I smiled at his words, nodding.
It took an hour, but finally we seemed to… click. As uncomfortable as the entire process was for me, I understood why some women chose to breastfeed. The bonding was palpable between us, and the idea that I was providing her with food from my own body was incredibly gratifying.
“We’re getting nowhere with Troy,” West said as we lowered the sleeping baby into the cradle. “He heard Eva crying. He knows she’s born and refuses to cooperate.”
I moved to the closet, finding a simple, green dress with wide shoulder straps and apron skirt. Slipping it over my head, I was grateful for the forgiving waist. “I want to talk to him-”
“Absolutely not.”
“You can stay with Eva, and Logan can stand right outside the door. I’ll be safe. He’s tied up, right?”
“We need to go to the mainland and get you to the hospital with Eva-”
“We will, just let me talk to him. Now,” I ordered, my words delicate but firm. “I deserve that.”
He straightened, facing me squarely. “Roam. Do not let him touch you.”
I sighed, moving into his open arms. He smoothed my hair, kissing the top of my head. “The dreams started again. I had one in a pub, in 1790. I was Spanish.”
“Isa,” he murmured, and I could feel him smile against my forehead. “You were… a dancer.”
“You were… a rake.”
His chest shook as he laughed silently.
Chapter Thirteen
West, Violet, and I gathered in the kitchen and ate from the fresh groceries in the refrigerator while Logan kept guard over Troy. West prepared eggs and sausage for us all with orange juice, and I watched him move around the kitchen and listened to him talk about the year that he spent in 1977.
“I fixed cars and alternated between trying to find Troy and guarding Laurel. I tried to find Julie. I went to her father, asking about her, but he told me that he didn’t have a daughter. She was just… gone.” His eyes met mine as he set the plate of food down in front of me. “As if she’d never existed.”
“I searched for her, too,” I remembered. “On the internet. There wasn’t a trace of her.”
He nodded, settling into the chair next to me and Eva. “I could only remember the first few numbers of the coordinates from 1977. It took months for me to piece together the rest and locate the fountain in Cleveland. Troy must have been doing the same. I found him in Cleveland minutes after I traveled.” He reached for the baby, and I reluctantly handed her over. “We fought, and I sent him to my house. I knew I could call Logan in time to warn you that he was back.”
I smoothed my hand over Eva’s hair. “But you didn’t know that Violet would be there.”
He lifted his eyes to Violet’s. “No, I didn’t.”
She stiffened, pushing her eggs around on her plate. “How long has Logan known that I’m… immortal?” she asked softly, her eyes focused on her plate.
West rocked Eva gently in his arms. “I told Logan that I suspected that you were immortal on the phone, when I called. He told me that you’d driven into town. He didn’t tell me you were going to my house.”
“He didn’t know that you’d sent Troy there,” Violet defended him softly.
I sighed, reaching for the untouched plate of food in front of me. “I’m not really hungry. I’ll take this out to Logan.”
He reached for my elbow, and I met his eyes.
“Roam.”
I tried to ignore his severe expression. “I’ll eat when I come back in,” I promised, but he shook his head slightly.
“I know you will. You have to keep your strength up, and feed Eva.” His voice lowered an octave. “Don’t let Logan leave your side.”
I nodded, gripping the plate. “I know, West.”
The shack behind the cottage had been obliterated during the 1999 hurricane but was new and freshly painted to match the cottage in 1955. Logan stood outside the door and stared out over the ocean.
I padded to him through the sand. He saw me approaching from the corner of his eye, stepping in front of me. “Roam.”
“Logan,” I countered, trying to move past him.
He moved left to block me. “You’re not going in there.”
“I already talked to West. He’s okay with it,” I assured him, handing him the plate of food.
“Bullshit.”
“Go ask him.”
“Stupid,” he muttered, shaking his head disgustedly. “Why does it matter?”
I rolled my shoulders back, straightening. “I need to look him in the eye and say something.”
“You spend seven lifetimes running from him, and now you want to tell him something. Girls.”
He puffed the air from his lips in irritation, a characteristic that was so Logan that it was comforting to me coming from his stranger’s body.
“I’m going in there.”
Logan stepped aside, waving his palm at the thin door. “Go on. I’m right here. Don’t touch him.”
I winced, nodding. “I wouldn’t.”
I pulled the door open, blinking as I tried to adjust to the slatted light coming in through the cracks of the wood.
His hands and feet were tied together to a metal stake in the ground. A dirty, white rag was stuffed into his mouth. The cloth was secured around the back of his head, so taut that his cheeks were lifted slightly.
The cold hutch reeked of urine. I coughed and covered my mouth, turning back to Logan quickly. “Please take the gag off of him.”
Logan started to argue, but instead shoved the plate of food at me and walked to Troy. He yanked at the rag cruelly, and Troy’s eyes fixed on me, never once looking in Logan’s direction.
“If you make noise, it goes back on,” Logan warned him wish a shove, and then looked at me. “I’m on the other side of the door.”
I nodded quickly, twisting my fingers together as I focused on Troy. “Okay.”
Logan stepped out, and I backed against the wooden door, my fingers looped through the door handle.
Troy’s eyes swept over me from my head to my toes, and he coughed once. “Well,” he tried, his voice was jagged and harsh. “Blond again. My favorite.”
“Stop being so disgusting,” I managed, wrapping my arms protectively around my body. “Just talk like a normal… insane person.”
He smirked, resting the back of his head against the wall. “There she is. I almost expected the demure, fifties little woman. But then there’s her tongue.”
I dug my fingernails into my palms. “You lost, Troy. It’s over. My child is born. She’s healthy, and beautiful, and she’s fulfilled the prophecy-”
He narrowed his eyes. “You think she has. Kill me, see if it takes.”
My heart thundered in my chest, and I tried to keep my voice even. “I need to know about the doors first. To the other world.”
He grinned sardonically. “Join the club.”
I softened, releasing the door handle and taking a tentative step toward him. My heart pounded harder, and I tried to breathe evenly. “They’re going to do… awful things to you,” I threatened vaguely. I couldn’t bring myself to say exactly what West planned to do, but I was sure that he could guess.
He coughed, flinching as he tried to move his neck. “What, like tie me up, starve me, and let me rot in my own piss?”
I covered my mouth with my hand, cringing involuntarily at the smell. “Troy,” I forced, trying not to shake, “I can make things better for you,” I whispered, hoping that Logan couldn’t hear me through the door.
He smiled at me, that same smile that haunted my nightmares each night. “You always have, princess.”
I gathered all my courage, staring at him firmly. “I want you to know that I’ve had dreams about our life. In the castle.”
Recognition flickered for a second in his ice blue eyes, encouraging me.
“And since I have,” I went on, “you don’t… scare me… like you used to. I th
ink that you loved me a long time ago, it makes you seem… weak.”
He pulled at the ropes suddenly, almost making it to his feet. I choked on a scream, slamming my back against the door.
“Don’t,” I begged softly, cursing myself for showing him how afraid I was.
His eyes flashed with fire, and I gripped the door, remembering that Logan was just on the other side. “Asher saved your long, pretty neck with his spell.”
“His spell?” I murmured, taking deep, calming breaths.
He leaned back against the wall again, staring at me as though considering.
Finally, after a long pause, he nodded. “I will tell you everything, Roam, only because you are about to experience the worst pain of your life. It’ll destroy you, and maybe West. Hopefully.”
I swallowed hard, trying to ignore his ominous threats. “Okay, tell me.”
He coughed again, clearing his throat. “You were sixteen years old when you came to my castle. I expected a virgin bride, but what I got was the kingdom whore.”
His eyes disturbed me, and I had to look away.
“My brother- the boy you call Logan- wanted my place on the throne. He conspired to get it, believing the quickest way to rule was between your legs.”
I swallowed hard. “Logan?”
He scraped his eyes over me in repugnance. “Not only did you betray me, you betrayed my brother. You fucked my knight. My closest friend, the one man who was truly like a brother to me. You believed you could turn my own army against me, you treasonous bitch.”
“Stop calling me names,” I cried, brushing a willful tear from my cheek. “What is wrong with you? It wasn’t me… it doesn’t matter, this reincarnation, whatever is happening… I’m a human being, Troy, I’m just a girl. I just want to live my life. I love West. It wasn’t me.”
He was lost in his own memories, that insane light in his eyes casting me into more shadows. “Asher was West’s father. Before I could put you all to death- you, my brother, and my knight, the old man conjured some dark magic to save your souls and send West here. West had no memories of our world, but I did. I could never forget.”
Fall (Roam Series, Book Two) Page 12
