The Dominion Series Complete Collection

by Lund, S. E.

  “I love science now,” I say and force a smile, trying to counter the mood. “I’ll probably do my MD and then a PhD.” I stand and close the cover on the keyboard. I smile at them, feeling very much the center of attention, which I don't like.

  “You won’t play more?” Mrs. Rhys says, her head tilted to one side.

  “I’ve played enough for now.”

  We go into the kitchen, and the parents start to remove containers of food from the oven where they are warming. Sarah leads me to a table in the great room.

  “If you like marine biology, you should see my room later. I have a great collection of seashells.”

  “I’d like that,” I say.

  Once the food is on the table, we sit around it and after Mr. Rhys says grace, we eat, the talk about Dylan’s classes, Sarah’s project in our marine biology class, Thomas – the oldest brother – and his last year in Seminary, the upcoming drama production of the Chekov play, for which I will only be a lowly stage hand, and news of Davis Cove.

  It feels so amazing to be here, sitting around a table with them, the fireplace flickering in the corner, Brahms playing on the sound system. A family – a real family. Mother, father, son, daughter, talking and laughing and sharing their lives. I sit and watch them and a feeling of such loss fills me, I bite my lip to keep tears from my eyes.

  They seem so real, almost perfect – except that their daughter is a quadriplegic who will probably die before she reaches age thirty. I Googled her disorder – Kugelberg-Wellander Syndrome Type II-III variant. When I look at her, I can't help but feel my heart squeeze at the thought she'll endure a slow decline and then death. Dylan's an Adept who might be working for either Soren Lindgren's coven or Blackstone, out to destroy modern civilization and bring about Dominion.

  They’ll need that solar power if the grid does fail because of Blackstone. I wonder if Dylan knows something about that and this explains his insistence about the solar panels.

  After dessert and coffee, Sarah asks me to come to her room. I follow her down the long hallway to her bedroom and am amazed. She has a hospital bed in the room with a bank of electronic machines like I expect would be in an ICU. But other than that, the room is beautiful, with art all over the walls depicting seashells, the sea, sailing ships, lighthouses, everything nautical.

  “I’m sensing a theme,” I say and smile. “I love the sea.”

  She nods. “The oceans are so amazing. If I’d been healthy, I’d have become a marine biologist,” she says. “My mother and father took us to Florida when I was younger, before I was on a respirator, and I swam with the wild dolphins there. I’d want to study dolphin and whale communication or the deep ocean, down where it’s dark and the creatures communicate with bioluminescence.”

  I sit on a chair in her room and look around. On the top of her dresser are huge conch shells and a tray of seashells of different colors. Starfish, corals – everywhere you look there's something from the oceans.

  “Do you like my seashells?” she says and moves her head to the side. “I’ve gone a bit overboard, but Dylan collects them for me and brings me something new and different each week.”

  I walk around and touch them, picking up the conch and listening.

  “They say you can hear the sea when you put these up to your ear,” I say and hear a roaring sound when I hold the conch up to listen.

  “That's a myth," Dylan says from the doorway, where he stands, leaning against the doorjamb, hands in his pockets. "It’s just the result of ambient sound echoing inside the shell due to its structure.”

  I put the shell down carefully, my cheeks a bit hot. I feel like telling him I already knew that, but I shut up instead.

  “Party-pooper,” Sarah says. “It’s much more fun to believe you’re really hearing the ocean.”

  “The truth is always better than a myth,” Dylan says and looks at me. “Isn’t that right, Eve? What's the saying – better a cruel truth than a comfortable delusion?”

  I freeze. He's quoting something back to me that I said to Michel… Was he able to read my mind from that brief moment when he tried to connect to me at the pub crawl?

  “I guess some people need delusions,” I say. “Gets them through the day.”

  “Not me,” he says. “I prefer the cold, hard truth.” He leaves the room.

  “Don’t mind Dylan,” Sarah says quietly. “Sometimes, he’s far too serious for his own good.” She grins at me.

  I follow her back to the conservatory and the piano that Gould once played. What a strange turn of events – here I am, in the house of a suspect, playing piano for him.

  I don't feel like I'm in danger, so I don't text Julien. I'll tell him later.

  I play the Bach Fugue in C sharp minor that accompanies the Prelude I played earlier. It's very slow and somber. I could play something lighter, but I love it so much, I have to play it while I'm able to do so on such a famous piano. Gould recorded the C sharp minor – he recorded the entire Well-Tempered Clavier. I think of him as I play – he was such a strange creature. Other-worldly with his Asperger’s reclusiveness and social awkwardness. But such genius. I try to put as much into the piece as I can, as much precision as I can muster.

  When I'm done, my audience is silent for a moment as if not yet ready to have it end. Finally, Mr. Rhys seems to come out of a trance.

  “That was lovely, Eve. Please,” he says and clears his throat. “Feel free to come over any time you feel like playing.”

  I stand and catch sight of Dylan standing off to the side, his long bangs hanging in his very hazel eyes.

  What is he? Who is he with?

  * * *

  Julien picks me up and is impatient to hear how my evening with the mysterious Rhys family went. I give a very sketchy account, telling him about how normal they all seem, with the exception of Sarah’s disease. How I didn’t think any of them are involved in anything nefarious – except for Dylan. It's all the truth – but I'm lying by omission by not telling him my suspicions about Dylan and what he said to me, quoting me back.

  "I don't think the family is involved in Blackstone or with Soren," I say. "But Dylan might be."

  He nods in agreement. “I'll check him out but I’m liking Mr. Colville Black for this. While you were in class today, I did a bit more sleuthing. Seems he’s been in a few locations where there’ve been other suspicious deaths. I’ll be paying him a visit tomorrow to see what’s up. We may have our case solved a lot sooner than I thought. Wonder if we could get a refund on the rent…”

  I glance at him to see if he's serious, for I had my heart set on staying in Davis Cove for a semester.

  "Just kidding," he says and laughs. "I'm not going to ambush him. We need to find his contacts, check them out. If there's a Blackstone cell here, that's the way to find them. Then, we have to find a way in."

  After Julien goes to the Cove for his late bartending shift, I go out to the patio and sit in the darkness so I can watch the stars as they appear, one by one as darkness falls over the ocean.

  I'm torn in a way I never thought was possible. Part of me hopes Dylan is just another Adept who's living here, and is completely unconnected to the murders. I really like Sarah and don't want her to lose her beloved older brother. Even as I think that, guilt fills me. I'm letting my personal feelings affect my work and that's dangerous. If Dylan is involved in these killings, either working for Soren or Blackstone, he's a threat.

  I don’t know what Julien has planned, but I can't imagine it involves letting whoever is guilty go free. Not for long, anyway.

  My heart breaks for Sarah already.

  Chapter 69

  "Sometimes the heart sees what is invisible to the eye."

  H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

  * * *

  The next day, on my way home from town where I've gone to pick up something for dinner, I catch sight of Dylan walking along the road towards his parent's house. He takes a shortcut through the park and I almost call out to him, but hold b
ack when a group of men from town follow him inside the cover of trees.

  I don't know them personally, but I remember them from the bar in the Cove Bistro one night when I was working. Some good old boys who work on the wharf on the fishing boats. Something about the way they follow him puts my nerves on edge, so I trail them, hiding behind trees so they won't know I'm there. They laugh amongst themselves and one of them pushes the larger guy forward as if egging him on. The guy calls out to Dylan.

  "Hey, you – freak!"

  Dylan seems to ignore them.

  "I said, hey you freak!" the guy repeats. He runs up to Dylan and pushes him on the shoulder. My muscles all tense when I see the violence, my body ready by instinct, and I crouch, ready to run to him if he needs my help. I could beat all four of them in a pinch so long as they're not Adepts.

  Dylan turns to face them, and then I see he had his earphones on. He speaks, but his voice is too low to hear. He waits as the others stand in a semi-circle in front of him.

  "Oh, yeah? Do you think so? Who's gonna make us?" the big guy with a beard says, his voice mocking. He pushes Dylan on the shoulder again as if to pick a fight but Dylan turns and walks away. The guy grabs him, pulling him around by his jacket, throwing him to the ground. When he lunges at Dylan, I'm just about to step out in the open, ready to take them on. Then, Dylan sweeps his right arm in an arc. A shock wave emerges from his hand and the young men are thrown back several feet, falling to the ground. They lie silent and unmoving on the grass. I stay where I am, hidden behind a tree, my heart racing.

  Dylan rises and brushes the dirt off his clothes, then he lays his hand on their necks for a brief moment, one after the other. He walks away, leaving them on the ground. When he's out of sight, they wake up, sitting up slowly, rubbing their heads.

  "What the fuckin' hell?" the one who challenged Dylan says, rubbing his head. They all seem stunned, rising slowly, glancing around as if they're confused. "What the hell are we doing here?"

  I slip away through the trees and walk home, my pulse racing, hands shaking. I'm determined to speak to Dylan about what happened the next time I see him.

  He's no ordinary Adept. He's no vampire, either. I don't know what the hell he is, but whatever it is, he has powers I've never heard of.

  * * *

  Julien's working late at the Cove and I’m alone for supper. After I finish my meal, and put the rest away for Julien, I go down to the beach and take a walk along the shore as the sun begins to set. When I round a bend in the beach, I come across Michel, sitting on the sand alone, his feet bare, his shoes on the beach a bit higher away from the surf.

  I stop up sharply and gasp. He turns to me, and when I see his face, I can't help but feel my heart squeeze just a bit. His hair is a mess, blowing around in the wind, his skin so pale in the last rays of sunlight.

  "Michel," I say when he turns back to the ocean. "What are you doing here?"

  "I thought you might go for a walk. I was hoping to speak with you."

  "I don't want to talk to you."

  He exhales heavily and he rises, wiping sand off his jeans. He comes over to me and just stands there, looking down at me, his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He looks so sad. Almost fearful.

  "I want to say how sorry I am for what happened at Soren's."

  I say nothing, not wanting to admit anything to him.

  "I know what Soren's done to Julien," he adds. "He'll try to torment you until you comply, Eve."

  "What do you mean, comply?"

  "Come with me. Be my Adept."

  I turn away, my cheeks heating under his intense gaze. "You have a new Adept."

  "She's not for me, Eve. She's Soren's. I don't want her."

  "You sure looked like you did."

  "I didn't. Not really. She was just to make you jealous."

  "I'm not," I say, but of course, I'm lying. "I was just disgusted with Soren for what he did…"

  He takes hold of my shoulders and turns me to face him. Then he cups my cheek with his hand, touching me to make me relax. When I do, he connects with me and I feel him enter my mind, the sensation so familiar I almost welcome it after this dry-spell with Julien.

  "Eve," he says, his voice soft. "I know. I know how you feel without even having to touch you. Don't lie to me. Don't lie to yourself."

  I stare into his eyes, which are so huge right now, his beautiful face filled with pain. I don’t say anything to deny what he's said or to confirm it, for he's already read me. He knows how I felt, how I feel.

  "I hate you both," I say, squeezing my nails into my palms to stop the tears, which threaten to well up in my eyes. Like Julien said so long ago, pain and anger are preferable.

  "No," he says and shakes his head. "You don't. You love us both. You can't choose."

  "I did choose."

  He smiles softly. "In that moment, yes. But now?" He brushes hair from my cheek. "You'd go with me if I pressed a bit."

  "You're wrong."

  He shakes his head slowly. "No, you would go, but I won't ask. You'll go with me when the time comes. That's all that matters."

  He bends down and kisses me, and despite everything, or because of it, my body is so ready, aching for his or Julien's touch. I can't help but respond to the feel of his arms around me, his body pressed against mine, his mouth on mine. I keep my eyes open while his eyes close as we kiss, so I can remember who he is.

  He looks and feels and smells and tastes so much like Julien.

  And he's right. The way I feel when he kisses and embraces me… Just like in the Abbey, I could so easily just go with him wherever he took me. I could fuck him right now in the sand with the fading rays of sun on us as it sets on the horizon.

  He pulls away and presses his forehead against mine, his eyes closed.

  "My sweet girl," he says, his voice filled with emotion. "I will imagine you Venus tonight and pray, pray, pray to your star like a Heathen."

  I recognize the quote. Keats – a letter to his Fanny Brawne written before he died. My throat chokes that he knows my deepest heart of hearts and can quote my favorite line from Keats's letter.

  Then he turns away, goes to his shoes, and he walks down the beach, away from me.

  Part of me wants to run to him, to go with him, but I can't.

  I can't.

  Julien would never stand it.

  * * *

  Julien arrives home around eleven and when he comes to me where I'm sitting on the couch, he just looks at me, as if waiting.

  "What?" I say, frowning at his dark expression.

  "How did your evening go?" he says, his voice soft, his eyes hooded.

  "Fine. I had supper and then went for a walk on the beach. I came back and have been reading. The meteor shower's later tonight. I'd like to watch."

  He sighs and then he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small book. He looks at it, and then drops it on the couch beside me.

  "I'm going out. I don’t know when I'll be back."

  Then he turns on his heel and leaves, the door slamming behind him.

  I pick up the thin book. It's a hardcover volume of Keats' letters to Fanny Brawne, old, with a dark blue cover. I pull off the pale blue ribbon that has been hastily re-tied around it. Julien's opened it and has looked inside. I open it and see it was published in 1878. Inside is a letter from Michel.

  Eve,

  Forgive my visit earlier, and for my kiss, but I had to see you to apologize for what happened the other night. Know that I never wanted to be with Gabrielle, but I must comply with Soren. I realize it hurt you deeply. You must know that I would never hurt you intentionally.

  Come to me when the time is right. I know from touching you that it’s what you truly desire but you're afraid of hurting Julien.

  I love you. Only you.

  Michel

  I go to the door and watch Julien as he gets into his car. I run to his door and put my hands on the handle, trying to open it. He starts to drive away and so I bang on
the window. Finally, he stops and rolls the window down.

  "What?"

  "Don't be mad at me. I didn’t ask him to come."

  "You kissed him."

  "He kissed me," I say, frustration filling me. "There's a difference. I refused him. I told him I chose you."

  He shakes his head. "I can't even touch you to know if you're telling me the truth."

  "I am," I say. "You'll have to trust me. He kissed me, Julien. I didn't kiss him."

  "But you still want him."

  "I chose you."

  "I'm going to the bar for a drink. I don't know when I'll be back."

  "Julien!" I say, but he drives off, leaving me standing in the darkness.

  * * *

  Around midnight, I take a blanket and walk to the hill overlooking the beach and watch meteors fall. As they blaze across the sky, I feel incredibly lonely lying here by myself, thinking that by all rights, Julien should be here with me to watch the meteor shower. That thought just upsets me more and so I indulge in misery, wondering where Julien is and why he’s forsaken me.

  When a few drops of rain fall on my upturned face, sending a shiver through me from the chill, I think it's strange. Other than a few high clouds streaking the heavens, the sky's clear, the storm system having moved off into the distance over an hour earlier. The Draconids are unspectacular due to the moon, so when Julien drives up after two o'clock in the morning, I fold up my blanket and go inside to meet him.

  "Eve!" he said when he sees me, pointing at my face. "What happened?"

  I frown and go to a mirror in the entry to examine my reflection. Crimson dots cover my face and hands like so many drops of blood.

  "It rained."

  "That's not rain," he says. I lick a finger then wipe one of the dots off my cheek. It smears on my fingers and I hold it up closer.

  "What the hell is it?" he says, alarm in his voice.

  I shrug. "I have no idea. I was out watching the meteor shower. It rained but the sky was clear. The storms passed hours ago."

  I go to the bathroom and wet a washcloth and wipe the red dots off my face and hands but there are stains in my hair as well. I get in the shower and stand in the hot spray. After I dry off, I put my pajamas on and go to the office, where Julien stands in front of one of the computer monitors, speaking on the secure phone.