Molly set the packages on the coffee table. Eric sliced through the tape with a lengthened fingernail and felt the air tense as Molly and Walter glared at him. He ignored his faux pas and their alarm since he knew Paresh hadn’t noticed. He flipped open the folds of the top box and pulled out stacks of letter-sized envelopes bound tightly with twine. As he set them on the table, Paresh’s eyes widened at the handwriting on the envelopes.
“Those are my letters.” She sat up, peering at the bundles. “What the...?”
Eric glanced at her and then at the other two before dashing from his office in search of the “gentleman.” The lobby was empty, so he darted outside. Squinting in pain from the sunlight, he shielded his eyes with his hand and scrutinized the business district. Though people milled about, they all had familiar, local faces. No one looked or sounded out of the ordinary.
Molly appeared beside him, offering his sunglasses. He switched frames in a fluent motion and dangled his glasses at his side. No longer hindered by the bright light, he looked up and down the street, and checked rooftops, seeking anyone suspicious.
“What did the man look like?” His voice came from low in his throat, an order, not a question.
“He looked, well, like you, but with long, reddish-brown hair,” she said with a pause. “He wore a gray suit—no tie with a white shirt—and a fedora with a red feather tucked into a black band, sunglasses, and a silver ring with a large black stone in it.”
Eric stiffened. “There were two pins on his lapel,” he growled. “A silver starburst loosely resembling a Maltese cross with a diamond and ruby center, and a military style ribbon bar of black, red, and silver stripes.”
Molly nodded. A cold aura flared from Eric’s body, consuming the heat of the day, growing more ominous as he fumed. She staggered back, fighting an urgent need to flee. Finally, she left him on the sidewalk and retreated inside.
He followed shortly after, furiously flinging his sunglasses onto her desk and shoving his silver frames onto his nose as he marched into his office. Molly slipped in behind him.
Eric needed to calm down. Unchained emotions spread like an infection and paralyzed anyone in range. But Jonathan had delivered those packages, toying with him in typical fashion, and that angered him more than he cared to admit.
Jonathan’s frustration with Eric’s choice to stay in the Realm of Man had led to him wagering the lives of “Eric’s humans” in nefarious “games.” They were all pawns—weak and disposable, yet powerful with proper manipulation. Despite never knowing the play until Jonathan had a long advantage, Eric had successfully protected each Hawthorne under his care. However, death had claimed someone, marking victory for Jonathan. Blood was blood and death was death, and now he held Eric suspended, yet again not knowing how long the current game had been in play.
But Eric did know the intended target.
Paresh stood next to Chief Hodges, crestfallen as she pawed through the second box. Her movements grew sluggish as Eric approached her. The envelopes fell from her hands and her arms dropped to her sides. By the time Eric stopped in front of her, she was staring through him like a living doll.
Eric’s jaw clenched. He hated doing this to her, again, and stronger than before, but something was off. Something larger lurked within Jonathan’s agenda. The High Council had always left him to his amusements. Why were they involved now? And Jonathan should have delighted in killing David. He had fallen from the flock over thirty years ago. But—
Hell, I should have killed him then, Eric thought. And since I want him dead, it doesn’t benefit Jonathan to kill him.
Frustrated, he pulled his glasses down on his nose and held Paresh’s gaze over the rim. He snapped his fingers at Walter and lowered Paresh to sit on the couch, kneeling in front of her without breaking eye contact. Walter dropped the letters and sat next to the girl. Molly hovered near the door like a nervous gazelle.
The energy coming from Eric’s aura filled the office with thick, invisible waves that crashed over Molly and Walter repeatedly, rebounding off the walls and doubling back, each layer more intense than the last. He knew both had felt the phenomenon in the past, but it had never possessed such crushing power.
Alongside his patience, Eric had lost a measure of control like never before, and he didn’t have time to rein it in.
“Paresh,” the chief began, “tell me what you remember about the accident.”
She spoke unblinkingly in monotone.
“We were on our way to church. I was in the backseat and had asked if we could go for ice cream afterward and Dad said yes. I remember that the corn was tall and blocked the view, so I wasn’t looking out the window. Then, I flew forward in my seat belt. Dad and Mom screamed. There was a screeching noise, the brakes, maybe, and metal crunching. Then a man pulled me from the car and I woke up in a bed at my uncle’s house in Kansas.”
“Then what?”
“I slept a few days and woke up. I wasn’t hurt at all. They were surprised.”
“They?”
“Uncle David and his girlfriend, Nicole. He said that Mom and Dad had been in a car accident. That they had died instantly. He told me Eric sent me to him to make my father happy, but Dad had never mentioned having a brother. I didn’t know anything about him and cried to come home, but Uncle David said that he would never let me leave his sight because he didn’t want to lose me, too.”
“Did he ever hurt you?”
“No.”
“Did Nicole ever hurt you?”
“N-no.”
“Are you sure?”
“She was mean, like she hated me. No one hurt me.”
“Okay. Tell me about Kansas.”
“We lived in a gated community outside of Ellis. It’s mostly residential, but since it’s so far from town, it has a central hub where people can drop off mail or meet with each other—like a community center. Most of the houses are near the front, but Uncle David lives at the back. I didn’t stay with him and Nicole long. She was always snapping at me and, one night, I overheard her telling Uncle David that I should ‘go away.’ A few days later, Master Jon moved my governess, Miss Lydia, and me into a vacant house down the street. Master Jon had Eric send all my things so I wouldn’t feel so out of place.”
“Who is Master Jon?”
“My governor.”
“What do you mean by governor and governess?”
“That’s what Master Jon said they were. Like teachers and substitute guardians.”
“Master Jon was in charge then? Tell me about him and Miss Lydia.”
“I lived with Miss Lydia, but Master Jon was always there. They homeschooled me because Uncle David didn’t want me attending public school. He was protective of me, he said, because he was afraid of losing the rest of his family. There were other kids, though, children of the people in the community. They went to school in Ellis.”
“Did these substitute guardians ever hurt you?”
“No. Miss Lydia was kind. And so was Master Jon, eventually.” Paresh said, a slight mist appearing in her empty eyes.
Walter paused with an uncertain glance at Eric that received no response. “Are you sure Master Jon never hurt you? Was he ever unkind?”
“He never hurt me. He was distant at first and seemed like he hated me, like Nicole. But then, we got close, it was like... like it was with Eric.”
The chief shot another hesitant look at Eric, but still received nothing. “All right. So they were good to you and you didn’t go to school. Were you ever allowed to leave?”
“Only with Master Jon. Uncle David trusted him to keep me safe, so I never went anywhere without him. He’d take me into Ellis or Hays once a week or so to go shopping, or to see a movie. Miss Lydia went with us sometimes, but Uncle David never did.”
“Did anyone ever approach you or recognize you?”
“No one seemed to pay much attention to me, I guess, but it’s not something I would have noticed.”
“How were you able to com
e here?”
“Master Jon knew I’d never felt comfortable there and said it was time for me to decide if I wanted to come home or stay there. He and Miss Lydia told me that my parents had left me money, and he made me promise to meet with Eric as soon as I got here.”
“And they let you go, just like that?”
“They helped me contact Simon and gave me enough cash to take the train. After I got a key in the mail, they drove me to Hays. We stayed overnight in a hotel and I left at seven yesterday morning.”
“Do David and Nicole know they let you go?”
“I don’t know. For the last few years, I haven’t seen my uncle much, just glimpses in passing, and Nicole pretty much avoids me all the time. She’s probably glad that I’m gone. I haven’t seen either one for at least six months.”
Chief Hodges nodded to Eric, who focused Paresh’s eyes onto his palm and drew her attention over to the twined mail without breaking his hold on her. The chief held up an envelope and jabbed his finger at the upper corner. “Is this your address?”
“That’s where Uncle David and Nicole live.” She lethargically pointed to another stack of envelopes. “That’s Miss Lydia’s address.”
Eyeing the return address on the top envelope, Chief Hodges read aloud, “Twelve-Fifteen Turnberry Lane, Ellis, Kansas.”
Eric’s hand jerked up in front of Paresh’s face to keep her attention and block the disgusted look he shot at Walter. “That sick bastard. Remember Felicia’s old street address? That was it.”
“Yes. The one he burned down after torching the mansion in the seventies.” The chief regarded Eric’s scowl with one of his own. “I have enough information to make a formal report. I think it would be a good idea to get the FBI involved right away. Let her go and see me out?”
As Chief Hodges rose, Eric lowered his hand slowly and caught Paresh when she slumped out of his control. Sitting her up against the cushions, he gestured for Molly to stay with her and then followed the chief into the lobby. The door clicked softly behind them.
Finally, the world began to return, rippled and distorted as though veiled by a pond’s glassy surface. She had heard everything, even her own voice, as a distant conversation, and hadn’t been able to see the other speakers. There had been one a tiny window of clarity in which Walter had appeared, holding an envelope, and she had been able to see, hear, and move. But then, the tide had rushed back suddenly, thrusting her deep beneath the surface into nothingness.
“Here you go, dear.”
Paresh searched for the muffled voice’s source and found Molly hovering overhead, a fine layer of ripples dividing them. She tried speak but was frozen.
After a distant “click,” she melted into the cushion and instinctively caught her head on her palm. As Molly met her stare with worry, Paresh wanted to ask about the “pond” only to find that she no longer knew what to ask or why the instant her lips parted.
Instead, questions from the distant conversation overlapped in her head. Confused and exhausted, she accepted Molly’s offering of fresh water and glanced back at the shaded windows. It felt late in the day, though it couldn’t be past noon.
She quietly studied the condensation beading on the new bottle. “It’s all true, isn’t it?” she finally muttered.
The older woman made a thoughtful noise and held up her index finger. She disappeared for a moment, retrieving something from Eric’s desk.
Sitting beside Paresh, Molly handed her a sheet of paper. It was an updated missing persons bulletin, the absolute proof of truth.
“It is, sweetie, I’m so sorry. Many people have been looking for you for a long time. Mr. Ravenscroft hired a team of private detectives and never gave up.”
Then why isn’t he here? Paresh thought as she looked at the strange, age progressed picture of herself. It had the right structure, but her face was softer and less angular than the computer generated version, and her hair had darkened from pale blonde to an odd gold that was rich with strawberry and copper highlights in the sun. Familiar steel-gray eyes stared back at her, but they weren’t hers. She shuddered and set the paper face down on the table. It gave her the creeps.
“This is...” She shook her head, not knowing if she was in shock or denial, or which was worse—the truth of being kidnapped or the lie of being abandoned.
“It will take time,” Molly said, sympathetically. “We’re all here for you. Even if it makes no sense, say whatever comes to mind. I-I’m just so glad you’re home.”
Paresh smiled weakly. “I don’t know what to feel, let alone to think or say. I mean, I guess I should feel unwanted, but I don’t, despite...” She rolled her wrist and fingers out with her trailing voice.
“That Nicole lady and Mr. Jon?” Molly offered hesitantly.
Paresh nodded, tears threatening to spill. “All this time, I thought Eric had abandoned me and it hurt so much. He was supposed to be my guardian; I knew that. I wrote every day and told him I wanted to come home. I asked why he hadn’t come to get me. Why he’d broken his promise. I thought surely he was throwing them away, but—” She waved at the twined stacks. “Obviously not.”
Sucking in a deep breath, Paresh met Molly’s gaze with misty eyes and tried to remove the bottle’s lid with nervous fingers. Her voice quivered as she said, “I thought Master Jon and Miss Lydia cared for me, but they never did, did they?”
“Oh sweetie.” Molly held the girl’s hands steady and opened the bottle for her. Watching Paresh sip, she said, “I can’t pretend you aren’t hurting, but it seems like you have good memories of them. Focus on those instead of second guessing motives. They gave you a home, so they must have cared, on some level.”
“No.” Paresh shook her head, staring ahead at nothing. “I lived there. I always felt out of place. I am home here.”
She absently wiped her eyes with the hem of her dress. “I don’t get it. I mean, I never questioned having a chaperone—it made sense that Uncle David would worry about me, but how can I not wonder about their motives or true feelings? Why did they do this?”
“You have every right to wonder, but in this moment, can you say you were happy? Or content? Did you feel loved? Take a moment. Separate the players and think about just that. How did you feel?”
“I suppose,” she started, fumbling as the word “kidnapped” loomed large over her thoughts. “I missed my parents and Eric, but I didn’t have another reason to be unhappy. Miss Lydia and Master Jon were always with me; they raised me like a daughter. No one can fake care like that for ten years, right? But, why did my uncle take me and make them care for me out of sight? If I was so important, why let me go without saying goodbye? He was the one who didn’t care. Master Jon and Miss Lydia were there for goodbyes...” her voice trailed sadly. “I’ll never see them again, will I?”
The two women stared at each other in silence—one at a loss for words and the other lost in the unraveling fabric of her life. Paresh felt so suddenly and completely drained. Her body was numb—she wanted to give in and cry, but her face felt heavy, like stone, and her tears were like a dry fire.
“Just coming home was hard. But walking inside—” Paresh shook her head. “Nothing’s changed. It’s like I never left. Like I’m stuck in time. And, I’ve been so angry with Eric when he didn’t deserve any of it. None at all. How could I ever think—”
Squeezing Paresh’s hand, Molly swapped her concern for a smile. “None of this is your fault! I promise you nothing means more to Mr. Ravenscroft than your safety. Process this in time, not this instant, and take comfort that you are surrounded by people who love you and will protect you—Mr. Ravenscroft especially. You can put a lot of faith and trust in him.”
Paresh nodded. “You’re right. I mean, I know you’re right. I’m here now and that’s all that should matter. But, I’m going to miss them, you know? I’m already exhausted from the last few days—and now all of this.” She pointed at the bulletin and boxes overflowing with unopened letters.
“
Anyone would be frazzled after learning everything you’ve heard today.” Molly held her arms out. “I’ve been waiting so long. May I?”
Paresh nearly threw herself into Molly’s arms with fresh tears falling, overwhelmed by the woman’s genuine expression of care.
Eric entered the room unnoticed as the two embraced. Clearing his throat, he announced, “Chief Hodges wanted me to tell you goodbye for him. Is everything all right?”
Molly smiled over her shoulder. “She’s feeling better.” She turned to Paresh. “Call on me anytime. I’ll go for now and let you two talk business.” She glanced up at Eric and quickly patted his arm on her way out. “Let her feel her emotions,” she whispered under her breath.
“Yes ma’am,” Eric replied quietly, smiling at Paresh.
Alone with him again, Paresh’s tentative confidence wilted. Her stomach knotted, an unearthly fire lit her nerves, and her racing pulse echoed like a drum. And yet, strangely, as he got closer, a calmness settled over her. She wanted to forget everything and lose herself in him, utterly and completely.
“Are you really okay?” he asked, wiping tears from her cheeks with his thumb. After learning that half of her life was a lie, he expected her to be panicking or hysterical, not nervously serene.
“Molly gives great advice. Positive perspectives.”
Eric covered her hands with his and grinned. He had heard their entire conversation. Molly had a knack for putting people at ease.
“She has a kind soul.” Caressing her fingers, he gently said, “I think we should set the unpleasantness aside for now. There’s nothing more we can do, and there are much better things to discuss. Is that okay?”
She nodded, her cheeks pink and her eyes on their entwined hands.
Silence lapsed between them. Her skin was so warm. Heat shot up his arm and flared in his chest. He swallowed hard and reluctantly released her, rising to retrieve an expandable folder from his lower desk drawer. She was the heir, after all, even if he wasn’t releasing the trust.
Returning to the sitting area, he pushed his glasses up. More lies.
The Arrival (Children of the Morning Star Book 1) Page 5
