Broken Dawn

by Duvall, Dianne

  She could’ve died today and he would’ve felt the same damn grief and emptiness inside without any of those precious memories Eliana had mentioned.

  He fished Kayla’s arm out from under the sheet and clasped her hand. And he refused to relinquish it when Isabel and Dr. Ranz rolled her out of the OR, down a hallway, and into an elevator that was thankfully empty.

  The hallway into which they disembarked wasn’t. There were a few people—both medical personnel and patients or relatives of patients—moving about.

  “It’s just a few doors down,” Dr. Ranz murmured and led the way.

  “Nicolas?” a male called.

  Nick glanced over his shoulder.

  An elderly man had just turned the corner behind them. His short white hair was thin enough to reveal the copious age spots that decorated his scalp. His body—almost skeletal beneath a loose suit that nevertheless bespoke wealth—wavered as he clutched his cane in a white-knuckled grip and leaned heavily upon it.

  Nick didn’t recognize him and turned away, his mind on Kayla. The man must be talking to someone else. Sheer habit had made him turn at the name.

  Two steps later, a hand clutched his arm. “Nick?”

  He frowned and glanced down at the old man. There was something familiar about him, but he couldn’t recall where or when they had met. Was he one of Oliver’s relatives? Or a former network employee perhaps?

  Dr. Ranz, Isabel, and Eliana slowed.

  Nick reluctantly released Kayla’s hand and motioned for them to continue. “Go on. I’ll be along shortly.”

  They did as ordered, Eliana casting the old man a curious look.

  Nick turned back to him. “Can I help you?”

  “It is you, isn’t it?” the old man said, staring up at him in astonishment.

  “I think you may have mistaken me for someone el—”

  “It’s me, Richard Roubal.”

  Richard Roubal? Where had he heard that name?

  Oh shit. Nick carefully kept his expression a blank, polite mask. Nick had met him back when Richard was a young man. An officer in the military, Roubal had been one of the thousands of “advisors” the US sent to Vietnam before the “police action” officially began. Vampires tended to flock to areas of conflict and had been wreaking their own special kind of havoc in the small Asian country, so Nick had been reassigned to aid the Immortal Guardians already stationed there.

  He feigned ignorance. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

  “Yes,” the man retorted. “I just look a hell of a lot older than I did when you knew me in Vietnam.”

  “Vietnam?” Nick furrowed his brow in a practiced expression of confusion.

  A man two or three decades younger than Roubal swung around the corner and approached them. “Sorry, Dad.” He took in the anger beginning to creep into Roubal’s features, then frowned up at Nick. “Is there a problem here?”

  Nick shook his head. “I believe he’s mistaken me for someone else.”

  “Bullshit,” Roubal blustered. “It’s you. I know it.”

  Nick sent the son a disconcerted look. “He seems to have mistaken me for someone he knew in Vietnam.”

  “Oh.” The son winced. “Sorry about that. It’s the dementia. Or maybe the cancer. I don’t know which. But the doctor said both the cancer and the treatment could increase his confusion.”

  “I’m not confused,” Roubal snapped. “This is Nicolas Belanger. I knew him in Vietnam.”

  Irritation flickered on the son’s face. “Dad, that was like sixty years ago. There’s no way this is the same man.”

  Nick addressed the son. “Nicolas Belanger was my paternal grandfather’s name. He passed away when I was a boy, but I remember my dad saying he spent some time in Vietnam during the conflict.”

  The son nodded. “That must be what it is. You must resemble him.”

  “My grandmother always said I did.”

  “Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” Roubal snarled.

  The son ignored him and glanced at his watch. “This is Nicolas Delonjay’s grandson, Dad.”

  The old man’s face reddened with fury. “Belanger! It’s Belanger!”

  “Whatever the hell his name is,” the son murmured absently as he took his father’s arm and urged him along, “this isn’t him. It’s his grandson. Look, we have to go. We’re going to be late.” He nodded at Nick. “Sorry about this.”

  “No problem.”

  Roubal cursed as the son guided him away.

  “I told you, Dad. It’s the cancer,” the son said. “Remember, the doctor said you could experience more confusion?”

  “I’m not confused!”

  “Bullshit. You couldn’t remember the name of your favorite football team when he asked you.”

  The old man frowned up at his son. “It’s the Cowboys.”

  “Right. You’ve loved the Cowboys for as long as I can remember. But when Dr. Singhal asked you that, you paused a long time, then said it was the Oilers.”

  That seemed to give the old man pause. “I did?”

  “Yeah, Dad. And the Oilers left Houston and became the Titans like two decades ago.”

  They turned a corner and left Nick’s sight.

  Relieved, Nick let his preternatural sense of hearing guide him to the room into which Kayla and the others had disappeared. He tapped lightly on the door. “It’s Nick.” Slipping inside, he closed the door behind him.

  Isabel and Eliana were cleaning Kayla, washing away the blood her injuries had left behind. Dr. Ranz stood over by a window, talking on the phone.

  Nick appreciated him turning his back while the women worked. He knew the man was a doctor but just couldn’t feel casual about another man seeing Kayla naked if he didn’t need to.

  Eliana looked up at his approach. “Close call, huh?”

  He nodded.

  Isabel cast them a questioning look.

  Nick claimed Kayla’s hand once more. “Someone I knew several decades ago recognized me.”

  The nurse’s eyes widened. “What did you do?”

  “I told his son that the man he’d mistaken me for was my grandfather.”

  “Did he believe you?”

  “The father didn’t. But his son did. Apparently the elderly man has both dementia and cancer and has been experiencing more confusion as a result. I feel like shit for taking advantage of it, but the only alternative would be to have Seth wipe his memory. And he has enough on his plate right now taking care of this.”

  Eliana sent him a sympathetic look. “That happened to me once in New York.”

  “It did?”

  She nodded. “Millions of New Yorkers, tourists, and visiting businessmen all crammed together in such a small area… Usually your chances of running into someone you know are zilch, so immortals there aren’t relocated as often as immortals in other cities and towns. Then I literally bumped into a man I hadn’t seen in forty years. We’d lived in the same apartment building in Brooklyn for a time when he was younger.”

  “What did you do?”

  She shrugged, her smile tinged with a hint of melancholy. “The same thing you did. I lied, said the woman he mistook me for was my mother. It broke my heart to do it though. I really liked him when he was younger. I think if he hadn’t been dating a beautiful blonde at the time, I might’ve liked him enough to take a chance and maybe see if we could have a life together for however long it could’ve lasted. But he ended up marrying her.”

  Nick didn’t know what to say.

  “Did he believe you?” Isabel asked softly, her voice full of sympathy.

  “Yes.” Again she shrugged. “Most humans do. Adulthood has a way of eradicating one’s ability to believe in magic or the fantastical.”

  Isabel nodded as she draped a clean sheet over Kayla. “It really does.”

  Dr. Ranz pocketed his phone and joined them. “Looks like Seth and the network have everything under control.”

  The door opened, admitting a lovely Asia
n woman in a white lab coat.

  Dr. Ranz smiled at her as she closed the door behind her. “Perfect timing. Dr. Kim, these are Immortal Guardians Nick and Eliana. Nick, Eliana, this is Dr. Kim.”

  Dr. Kim smiled. “It’s so nice to meet you both. Sorry for the delay.”

  “No problem,” Eliana said with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

  Nick dipped his head in a nod. “Thank you for helping us.”

  Dr. Kim waved a hand. “I consider it an honor.” Her gaze fell to Kayla, who remained unconscious. “Dr. Ranz tells me you’d like me to put a cast on Ms. Dorman’s arm?”

  “Yes, please,” Nick said. “Seth healed her, but…”

  “You need the cast for appearance’s sake?”

  “Yes.”

  Dr. Kim smiled. “No problem. I’ll get right to work.”

  Chapter Four

  Once Seth finished smoothing things over, he found them in Dr. Kim’s office. Dr. Ranz had been called away, but Isabel and the orthopedic doctor remained. Seth took in the cast as well as the scrubs Isabel and Eliana had maneuvered onto Kayla. “All done?”

  They nodded.

  “Let’s get her home then.”

  Nick slipped his arms beneath Kayla’s shoulders and knees and lifted her into his arms. Her head rolled to rest against his chest. “I’d like to take her to my place.”

  Eliana gently took the slender arm, which was encased in a cast and dangled down at his side, and shifted it to rest in Kayla’s lap.

  Seth nodded, unperturbed, and motioned them closer. After thanking Isabel and Dr. Kim once more, he touched Nick’s and Eliana’s shoulders.

  The room around them darkened. That peculiar feeling of weightlessness engulfed Nick. Then the room brightened, and he found himself standing in his living room.

  Some of the tension that had strung his muscles tight eased.

  Seth caught his eye. “She’ll know when she awakens that all is not as it should be. Should I alter her memories, or do you intend to speak with her?”

  The normal procedure would be to alter her memories. The only reason Seth would deviate from that and offer him an option was if the powerful elder immortal had recognized Nick’s feelings for her.

  “I’ll speak with her,” Nick replied.

  Seth nodded. “Let me know if it doesn’t go well.” He would definitely have to alter her memories in that instance. If Nick had ever doubted the necessity of keeping gifted ones, immortals, and vampires a secret from the general public, the events of recent years had stomped those doubts into oblivion. Anyone who learned of their existence and did not become their ally could not be allowed to retain those memories. The threat was simply too great.

  “You can take the night off,” Seth added.

  Nick glanced at the window, surprised to find it already dark outside. “Thank you.”

  A trebly version of Skillet’s “Monster” filled the air. Seth retrieved his cell phone. “Yes?”

  “Seth!” a male immortal blurted. “It’s Miklos. I need your help.”

  Seth met Nick’s gaze. “I’m needed in Hungary.” He vanished a second later.

  Nick looked at Eliana. “I’m going to get Kayla settled.”

  She nodded.

  Turning, he headed for the stairs and up to his bedroom. Eliana followed and moved forward to draw back the covers on his big bed.

  Nick gently lowered Kayla to the mattress and arranged her so she looked comfortable, her head on his pillow, her arm with the cast at her side. Drawing the covers up to her chest, he glanced at Eliana. “Would you call Henderson or Reordon and get the flight info for Becca?”

  “Sure.” Palming her cell phone, she left the room.

  Nick sat on the edge of the bed and drew Kayla’s right arm out to rest atop the covers. Her hand was so small in his. He traced the blue veins that showed faintly through her pale skin, touched each freckle. Her nails were neatly trimmed. Kayla always kept them short so they wouldn’t interfere with her typing when she edited manuscripts.

  Leaning forward, he brushed her hair back from her face, happy to find it free of glass shards.

  He hated that they’d had to leave the cuts and bruising that marred her pretty features. It only made her look more fragile.

  His heart began to pound as he contemplated telling her what he was. And what she was. He hadn’t realized she was a gifted one. And he’d been so distracted at the hospital that he’d forgotten to ask Seth what her gift was.

  How would she react to his being different?

  Did she realize she was different, too?

  Eliana returned. “Reordon put her on a private jet. Henderson gave me all the details. He planned to have a network employee pick her up, but I told him I’d do it myself before I begin my hunt tonight. I thought she might find a familiar face comforting.”

  “Thank you.”

  She hesitated in the doorway and studied Kayla. “How are you going to tell her?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  He read the same uncertainty in Eliana’s expressive features that he was sure painted his own. Mortals rarely responded well to learning immortals were different. Most immortal confessions had been met with violence in the past. Hell, when Roland Warbrook had told his fiancée what he was centuries ago, the woman had told her sister and a mob had tried to kill him. And she had supposedly loved him… until she’d learned what he was.

  “I never thought I would have a reason to tell anyone,” he admitted. If he had, maybe he’d have put some thought into how he might break the news.

  “Me either.” Her brow furrowed as she studied Kayla. “She doesn’t seem quick to hate the way so many are though.”

  He shook his head. “She isn’t. She’s a firm believer in the treat others as you wish to be treated philosophy.”

  Eliana sighed gustily. “Damn, I wish there were more people like her.”

  He smiled. “Me, too.”

  “Well, here’s hoping she’ll react well.” A twinkle of mischief entered her brown eyes. “You want me to take the scenic route home to keep Becca out of your hair in case things go better than you think and Kayla decides to get you naked?”

  He chuckled. “I doubt that’s going to happen, but I appreciate the offer.”

  She shrugged with a grin. “Suit yourself. I’m going to head out.”

  “Thanks again, Eliana.”

  “Anytime, my friend.”

  He listened to her soft tread as she headed downstairs. Keys jingled. Then she left, locking the door behind her.

  Silence fell.

  Nick pulled a chair up beside the bed, sank down on it, and reclaimed Kayla’s hand.

  He couldn’t seem to resist touching her.

  Maybe he simply needed the contact to prove he hadn’t really lost her.

  He shook his head at himself. He’d spent centuries doing the same old, same old: hunt vampires at night, come home, eat, sleep, and repeat. The only thing that ever varied was his location and his Seconds as they aged, retired, and were replaced.

  Now, in the space of just a few hours, everything had changed. Dramatically.

  He studied the lovely woman sleeping in his bed.

  Everything.

  Consciousness beckoned. Kayla sighed, not yet ready to relinquish sleep.

  She turned her head on the pillow.

  Mmm. It smelled like Nick. Masculine with a hint of the outdoors.

  Smiling, she rubbed her cheek against it, then went still.

  Wait. Why does my pillow smell like Nick?

  She straightened her head on the pillow. And why am I sleeping on my back? She never slept on her back.

  Frowning, she opened her eyes.

  The ceiling above her was dark, the room around her dimly lit by flickering images on a large flat-screen television that graced the opposite wall. Her heart began to pound in alarm as she looked toward the windows and took in the sleek black dresser between them.

  This wasn’t h
er room. What the hell?

  Something warm tightened around her right hand. She hadn’t realized until then that someone held it. Kayla jerked her head in that direction and stared at Nick.

  Seated in a chair beside her, he leaned forward. “Easy. It’s okay.” Much to her shock, he reached out with his free hand and gently brushed her hair back from her forehead in what could only be described as a gesture of affection.

  “Where am I?” she blurted.

  “My home.” His voice was soft and calming. “My bedroom.”

  What the hell was she doing in Nick’s bedroom? “I don’t…” Remember. She couldn’t remember how she had come to be here.

  “It’s okay,” he said again. “Don’t panic. I can hear your heart racing. But everything is going to be okay.”

  She frowned. He could hear her heart racing? What did that mean?

  Wait. Everything was going to be okay? Hadn’t he said something like that to her before? Everything’s going to be okay. I promise. Then he had kissed her forehead and said, Just close your eyes and rest. Blindingly bright lights had shone down on her and—

  Her eyes widened. “Oh shit. I was in an accident.”

  “Yes.”

  “I was injured.”

  “Yes.”

  “Badly.”

  “Yes.”

  She couldn’t seem to call forth a memory of the accident itself but remembered being pinned to her seat afterward. Police had spoken to her. EMTs. Firefighters. Asking her not to move. Promising to help her.

  And there had been pain. So much pain. Her head. Her arm. Her leg. Her chest. “Oh shit. Something was sticking out of my chest.” She drew her left arm out from under the covers, intending to shove them down and inspect her body, but stopped and stared at her arm. A cast covered it from just beneath her elbow to just past her thumb.

  Right. She’d broken her arm. And her leg. She shuddered at the memory of a jagged bone protruding from her thigh. When wiggling her fingers sparked no pain, she grabbed the covers and shoved them down to her knees.

  No bulky cast graced her leg, just blue scrub pants.