He turned back to face her. “Don’t you like children?”
“I love children, but…” She bit her lip.
The tenseness in his shoulders remained as he knelt in front of her. “But you don’t want a baby with me.”
“I didn’t say that.”
His gaze hardened. “Then say it.”
“We’re hardly in a position to bring a child into this world.”
“Position?” His eyes tightened. “You mean relationship.”
“Joss,” she said with an exasperated sigh, “I didn’t choose this relationship. We’re enemies, for crying out loud. Lupien is after me. I may not even live to see next week.”
“I’m not going to let you die.”
“You can’t guarantee that. No one can.”
“I’m not going to let you fucking die.”
“Fine, say all turns out honky dory, how can we bring a child into this?” She waved between them. “I can’t believe you’re even considering it. I should’ve insisted on using a condom. I got carried away and—”
“You’re right,” he said, taking her hand. “We haven’t discussed it and we should’ve.”
She chewed her lip, carefully considering her words. “There’s nothing to discuss. It can’t happen.”
His eyes darkened. The peace shattered. His fingers tightened on hers. “It could happen.”
She shook her head, swallowing the bitter taste of regret.
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he said with more urgency. “We’re married. We’ll have a baby. A child will make you happy, won’t it?”
The motivation behind his intention dawned on her. He thought if they had a baby, she wouldn’t want to run any longer. He believed it would bind them forever, and it would. How utterly warped, more so because she wanted it, really wanted it, but he’d ruined that dream for her with his twisted behavior.
He blurred in her vision. The burn behind her eyes built. No matter how hard she tried not to spill those tears, they finally spilled over.
His expression softened. Thumbing a tear away, he said, “Don’t cry, sweetness. You’ll make a beautiful mother. A good mother.”
The knot in her throat made it hard to speak, but she had to say it. Sex was one thing, but a child wasn’t a game. “Forget about it, Joss. I’m not doing this with you.”
“Cle, if you—”
“A child could inherit my genes,” she said, her voice rising. “Have you thought about that?”
Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her to his chest. “Why would that be an issue?”
“It’s not normal,” she said, too drained to fight the comfort he offered.
He lifted her chin with a finger. “What is normal? You’re a different kind of normal. That doesn’t make you less than others.”
Summoning willpower, she pushed her palms on his chest to create distance between them. “What if he or she combusts things?”
He grinned. “Will you be upset if our children like to taste blood? Maybe my genes will give you little vampires.”
Hold on. How did they go from arguing about a baby to children, as in plural? Even if she’d love any child of Joss, vampire or not, she remained quiet. This conversation was so unfitting for the kind of relationship they had. That he couldn’t see that frightened her. It meant he didn’t think dragging her to the altar was wrong.
He continued in a tender tone. “I like you fine for who you are. There. It’s settled. No more talk about this. We’ll wait if you prefer to, but if it’s a family you want, I’ll give you a baby without second thoughts. Whenever you’re ready.”
At a dead end, she only nodded. What else was there to say? She couldn’t make him understand. The smile that lit up his face and melted his eyes broke her heart.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s have that bath so we can get back to bed.”
She allowed him to help her into the water. His touch was gentle, but the tension of the conversation stretched between them as he washed her from head to toe.
After drying her body and hair, he took her back to bed and caged her in between his arms as if that was enough to keep her from running. Despite her turbulent thoughts, she fell asleep quickly, and when she woke with sunlight filtering through the windowpanes, Joss’s place next to her was empty. The sheets on his side of the bed were cold.
She reached for the clock on the nightstand to check the time and noticed the note. His handwriting was messy like his past and his burdens. The message said he’d gone to Vannes for business, and that she had to stay in the castle until he got back. He’d risked leaving her alone? Then she read the last part of the message that said someone from the cleaning service was there to keep an eye on her. So much for thinking he’d give her an opportunity to run.
It was already close to ten when she’d dressed in jeans, a wool sweater, and boots. Downstairs in the dining hall, she found a basket of croissants and a selection of tea bags. The remains of last night’s dinner were gone.
She poured water from the urn and made a strong cup of tea to help her wake up. The croissant was buttery, melting in her mouth. She’d missed that in South Africa.
When she took her plate and tea bowl to the kitchen, she almost bumped into a lanky teenager with red hair and freckles who exited just as she was about to walk through the door. She jumped, making the bowl rattle on the plate.
“Sorry,” the boy said, “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He had a broom in his hand and an apron tied around his waist. “I’m Siril, Izabell’s cousin. I’m helping out with the cleaning.”
She put a hand over her heart. “You gave me a fright.”
“Joss said you were tired and we shouldn’t wake you, otherwise I would’ve let you know we were here.”
She looked around. “Where’s everyone else?”
“Izabell had to leave. There’s an emergency at the restaurant, but she’ll be back to prepare lunch.”
“Is she picking you up later?”
“I came by bike.” He rested the broom against the wall and reached for the crockery. “Let me take that.”
“It’s all right. I’ll just rinse these in the kitchen.”
He made big eyes. “Oh, no. Izabell won’t like that. That’s my job.”
Relenting, she handed him the crockery. He looked so young. “Do you work for your aunt?”
“Only for the holiday,” he said from over his shoulder on his way to the sink.
She leaned in the frame, watching Siril rinse the dishes as a plan formed in her head. “How long does it take to go to the village by bike?”
He looked up. “As in Josselin, that village?”
“Yes.”
“About thirty minutes.”
“I want to go to the bakery. Can I borrow your bike?”
He glanced toward the road. “Joss said you must stay here until he gets back.”
“I want to surprise him with a Kouig-amann. It’ll make him happy.”
He packed the crockery in the drip tray. “Izabell is cooking lunch.”
“Well, now she won’t have to worry about desert.” When he hesitated, she said, “With the emergency, I’m sure your aunt will appreciate the time it’ll save her.”
He thought for a bit, regarding her from over his shoulder. “I don’t want to get into trouble. Izabell said I was to stay here with you and not let you leave the grounds.”
Crossing her fingers behind her back, she said, “I’ll be back in no time. She won’t even know I’ve been gone.”
He scratched his head. “I dunno.”
“Your aunt works for Joss, right?”
“I guess so.”
“That means you work for us, seeing that I’m Joss’s wife.”
He dried his hands on a dishcloth. “I suppose.”
“What else did Izabell tell you to do?”
“To sweep the terrace out front and hose it down.”
“Why don’t you go ahead and do that, and by the time
you’re done, I’ll be back.” She winked. “As I said, no one needs to know.”
“I guess it’ll take me an hour to finish, and Izabell won’t be back before twelve.”
“Great,” she said, pushing from the wall. “Where’s your bike?”
He pointed at the window. A bicycle was propped up against the inner courtyard wall.
“Thanks,” she said, making her way outside through the backdoor before he changed his mind.
“Oh, wait. I almost forgot.” He ran to catch up with her. Digging in his apron pocket, he pulled out a cellphone. “Joss left this. He said to call if you need him. His number is programmed.”
Taking the phone, she smiled. “Thank you.” She turned, heading for the bike again, but Siril took her elbow.
“Someone called for you.”
She stopped in her tracks, and spun around to face him. “What did you say?”
“Someone called while you were sleeping. I almost forgot to give you the message.”
Her heart started beating faster. “On this phone?”
“On the phone Izabell left for me to call if there were any problems. It’s the restaurant phone.”
“Who was it?”
“He said his name was Erwan.”
She ran hot, then cold. She tried to sound normal when she asked, “What did he say?”
“He asked if you could meet him.”
Her palms turned sticky. “Did he say where?”
“Uh … he said he’d wait for you at Joss’s old house.”
She stilled. Aware of Siril’s questioning glance, she forced a smile onto her face. “What time did he call?”
Siril scratched his head. “I can’t be sure exactly, but it wasn’t so long ago. Maybe two hours.”
“Okay.” Her voice sounded tinny to her own ears. “Thank you.”
Even as everything inside her urged her to run, she walked across the yard at a normal pace. She couldn’t raise Siril’s suspicions. Blood rushed in her ears. Erwan was safe. Erwan knew she was all right. He’d found her like she knew he would.
She took the bike and pedaled as hard as she could. Instead of taking the road to Josselin where she would’ve taken a bus or begged a lift to get the hell out of there, she took the D11 to Larmor-Baden.
Chapter 36
It took Clelia an hour to cycle to Larmor-Baden. From the crossroad to Larmor, it was a short distance to Joss’s old house. The nearer she got, the harder her heart thumped. It wasn’t only from the exercise. Soon, she’d see Erwan. At last she could reassure herself he was safe.
Stopping in front of the big house, she took a moment. Memories of being Joss’s prisoner flooded her with mixed feelings. Although he’d captured her, he’d also tried to protect her from his team. But none of that mattered now. She could take Erwan with her. Together they’d run. She wouldn’t let him talk her out of it this time.
The abandoned house rose darkly against the overcast sky. A place so broken should’ve looked sad, but the dilapidation looked ominous. The choice of meeting place didn’t surprise her. Like Joss, Erwan knew the haunted house was one of the safest places to meet. No one else would dare to go there.
Suppressing a shudder, she opened the garden gate. The rusted hinges gave with a squeak. The front door stood open on a crack. Erwan was expecting her.
Leaving the bike on the grass, she climbed the porch steps and slipped around the door. The inside of the house was dark. It seemed permanently dark, as if light had abandoned it a long time ago. Even the slivers that stole through the shutters seemed diluted, a foggy mist that dissolved into shadows.
She paused in the entrance for her eyes to adjust. “Erwan?”
The weight of silence hung in the air, making it seem thicker. She took a few steps down the morbid hallway toward the kitchen. A floorboard creaked above. The jagged sound ripped through the sticky air.
“Erwan?”
Backtracking, she glanced up the staircase. A light came on. It shone from the landing. Her heartbeat quickened, sounding loud in her ears as her footsteps fell softly on the wooden floor. Erwan was a little deaf. She called out his name again, louder this time, but when there was no answer, she climbed the stairs slowly, carefully, listening for another sound.
On the landing, she hesitated. There were no blood stains to mark the spot, but this was where Joss’s father had killed his wife. She recalled Joss’s twisted expression when he’d told her the history. Finding his mother like that… She shivered. No wonder the burden still weighed on him.
Forcing the image from her mind, she took a deep breath and skittered around the outskirts of the landing, her back pressed against the rail. It somehow felt wrong to walk over that spot, like walking over someone’s grave.
She glanced down. The visual of the open front door gave her a sense of reassurance. She wasn’t trapped. She wasn’t locked in. She opened her mouth to call for Erwan again when something shuffled behind the first door. Her breath caught.
Erwan.
All trepidation forgotten, she reached for the knob, but before she could turn it, the door opened in her face. She gulped in stale air. Her chest caved.
Staring at the man who stepped out, she frowned. “You?”
He gave her a charming smile. “We meet again.”
This was wrong. The journalist wasn’t supposed to be in Joss’s house. Where was Erwan? She reiterated. “What are you doing here?”
“I was waiting for you,” he said, as if it were something she should’ve known.
“I don’t want to talk about the fires.” She gripped the rail behind her. “I already told you.”
He tilted his head. “All right.”
His easy agreement felt off. The last time she’d run into him, he’d pushed her to the point of being rude. “If you’re not here to talk about the fires, then what do you want? Where’s Erwan?”
His smile looked painted on. “Which question shall I answer first?” He tapped his chin. “Let’s start with a proper introduction. I believe you’ve heard about me.” The gleam of excitement in his eyes was cruel as he held out a hand. “I’m Lupien, and I’m so pleased to finally meet you.”
She gripped the rail harder. Her chest constricted until it hurt to breathe.
Dropping his hand, he regarded her with cold interest. “Did you really not expect me?”
Her knees shook. His name got stuck in her brain. She was facing the man who had every intention of killing her, and she had no means of defending herself. A drop of sweat run between her shoulder blades, tickling her spine.
“Come, now,” he said. “Don’t look so shocked. Aren’t you going to give your daddy a kiss?”
The words hit her like a punch, taking what little breath she had left. Her effort at keeping a stoic face failed. She stumbled a step sideways.
A maelstrom of thoughts assaulted her. Her father. Her mother’s rapist. The man Erwan had warned her about, who’d said he’d be back for her when the fires started. Cain’s opposition. Joss’s enemy. Many questions floated in and out of her head, but she couldn’t formulate one. She could only stare at him in horror.
“You look like your mother.” His lip curled. “She was such a pretty thing, but she put up a very disappointing fight.”
Her voice scraped. Her throat felt raw. “Why?”
“You have to be more specific with your questions. I’m a firestarter, not a mind reader. I believe that’s Cain’s level of expertise.”
The question tore from her chest. “Why did you rape her? Why destroy her and everyone she loved?” Even as her lips formed the words, the reason became painfully clear. “Was it because you needed a new firestarter whose power you could steal? There weren’t enough on Earth, so you decided to create one?”
“You catch on fast. Your mother’s art was powerful, enough to enhance mine beyond compare, but I saw another opportunity. If I could plant my seed in her womb, combine our genes, and create someone with a gift stronger than hers and mine together
, I could come back when that gift was mature and harvest it.”
She swallowed bile. “You made her pregnant so you could come back and kill me?”
He smiled. “Exactly.”
She looked around, panic making her feel sick. “Where’s Erwan?”
He cracked his neck. “Are you concerned about an old fisherman who isn’t even related to you?”
“Should I have been concerned about you?” she asked with venom.
He studied her. “You’re very emotional, just like your mother. You have to admit, my plan was ingenious. I had it all worked out to the last detail, even to the date of your mother’s ovulation. I could smell the bitch in heat from a mile.”
She balled her hands. “Her name was Katik.”
He shrugged. “Whatever.”
“She died giving birth to me. You killed her.”
“Of course she did.” He arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t you know? All mothers of gifted babies die during birth.” He flashed his teeth, too white and straight to be natural. “That’s why they’re called forbidden babies.”
She dug her nails into the wood. Grief lashed at her. It left a deep, aching scar on her heart.
Lupien’s pupils danced with cruel excitement. Instead of allowing him to see how the revelation had shattered her, she forced her mind to go elsewhere.
“Where’s Erwan?” she asked again.
He lifted his arm to indicate the room he’d excited. “After you.”
She stared at the frame. Out here, with the open front door downstairs, she had a better chance than being trapped inside a room with him.
“If Erwan is really in there,” she said, battling to keep her voice steady, “bring him out here.”
He flashed more teeth. “Getting brave, daddy’s little girl? I like it. Dare suits you better than the sickly submissiveness I sniffed on you the first time we met.”
Turning abruptly, he entered the room. The movement made her jump. She needed to breathe and focus.
When Lupien returned, all hope of getting her nerves under control vanished. He carried a chair on which Erwan sat, tied up and gagged, as if it weighed nothing, and flopped it down in front of her.
Pyromancist SECOND EDITION: Art of Fire (7 Forbidden Arts Book 1) Page 29
