Paul cleared his throat and glanced furtively in Integrity's direction. The woman, taken aback, dropped a curtsy, and murmured, “Sorry, miss,” before her girth rushed back into the pantry. Not knowing what to do, feeling guilty, Integrity called, “It's okay. Your food's really good!” As the door swung in increasingly smaller arcs, she added awkwardly, “Thanks?” There was no response.
Paul looked as though he might pass out from trying so hard not to laugh. Integrity grabbed his arm, noting absently that his cold core temperature seeped through his shirt and suit jacket, and shoved him toward the door. “Get out!” she hissed. Bowman followed stolidly behind them.
As soon as the door to the kitchen had clicked shut, Paul's laughter rang loudly down the corridor. “Shut up!” Integrity hissed at him, shoving him roughly down the hallway. “She can still hear you, you know!”
As the group passed around a corner, Paul's laughter ended abruptly. He straightened up from the bent over position he had been in, clutching his stomach, and his face became blank, hands dropping to his sides. “Paul?” He made no response to her inquiry, and she looked about her in confusion. About halfway down the hallway they had just entered stood a group of people, staring openly at the group and talking in hushed tones. “I'm tired. Take me back to my room,” she stated, once again speaking too loudly. Paul bowed his head to her, then set off down the hallway, directly past the gossiping group, who gradually fell silent as they approached. Integrity tried desperately to look unconcerned, but it was suddenly hard to keep her head still—it seemed to wobble uncontrollably. When Integrity had taken one single step past the silent spectators, she heard one of them hiss something in her direction. She would have kept walking, but she heard a scuffling behind her. She turned to see Bowman grasping one of the men by his throat, the victim pressed tightly against the wall.
“Bowman!” Integrity exclaimed, shocked. “What . . .”
Paul had instinctively moved between Integrity and the group before her. She stepped to one side so that she could better grasp the situation, and he started to move with her. She held one hand up, low, and he stopped where he was. Bowman had not moved in the slightest, though the man was scrabbling at this throat, trying to free himself. “Bowman, release him.” She spoke softly this time, and, after a moment, her guard grudgingly let go.
“How dare you touch me. Lady Jydda shall hear of this,” the man ranted, straightening the collar of his shirt in a huff.
“Apologize to the lady.” Bowman's voice, though neither loud nor soft, carried a distinct flavor of danger. When the man did not, Bowman took a step forward. The man flinched. “Apologize.”
The man hesitated, then turned to Integrity and, bowing deeply, said, “Forgive me, Destine. You are most assuredly not a poser.” His words carried far too much emotion, obviously a blatant mockery of her. “Does that satisfy you, peasant?” the man directed at Bowman.
Before Bowman could grasp the man once more, Integrity turned and headed down the hallway, praying silently that he would follow. I know I haven't been good about talking with Thee, Heavenly Father, but please get Bowman to follow me. Her heart was thudding uncomfortably in her chest. She could hear Paul following her, but could not distinguish if there was more than one set of footfalls, the thick carpet muffling all sound. Please, make him follow, she pleaded.
As soon as they were out of view of those who had mocked her, Integrity glanced over her shoulder. Bowman was with them. She breathed a sigh of relief. “Paul, take me back, please.” She followed the younger guard in silence. Once they reached her quarters, she asked, “Will you come in for a minute, please?” The two men followed her silently.
She led them over to the chairs, but neither man sat, so she remained standing with them. No one spoke. Finally, she cleared her throat and said, “I, uh, I just want to apologize.” Their faces remained blank. “You know, for talking to you like that back there, ordering you around.”
Paul looked bemused. “We are your guards. You're supposed to order us around.”
“Not like that! I only did it because I thought that's what you wanted me to do. You know, because you quit laughing and everything when you saw those people.”
Paul bowed his head. “It was very considerate of you, miss.” He hesitated, obviously wanting to continue.
“Go ahead.” When he still hesitated, she said, “Paul, I'm not going to get mad. Tell me what you're thinking.”
He sighed. “You did precisely what I was hoping you would. The way I behave with you, the way I speak to you, is inappropriate.”
“What?” Laughter broke the word up. “You're not exactly talking dirty to me, Paul.”
“No, but you are the Destine. I am a guard. We are not on the same level.”
Integrity took a deep breath. “I think I understand what you're trying to say.” She thought for a moment. “I think of you as a friend. I don't want to lose that, just because of what other people think I am.”
He paused again, obviously not used to speaking freely, then pressed forward. “Miss, I could be reassigned or even punished for the way I behave with you. My superiors would not like it.”
Integrity turned to Bowman for the first time since entering the room. She could tell he was still angry. “Are you going to tell anyone, Bowman?”
“What?” Catching up with the conversation, he said, “No. Why would I?”
“Then, Paul, my advice to you is, 'Don't get caught.' Fair enough?”
“It really doesn't bother you? My being so familiar?”
“I hate to break it to you, but I don't think I am this Destine character. I'm no better than you are. In fact, I'm worse. I am a poser.”
Bowman uttered a sound that Integrity could only describe as a growl. “You're not a filthy poser!”
Integrity had never heard Bowman become emotionally involved in anything. She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. “It doesn't bother me. I never claimed to be the Destine.”
Angry words poured from Bowman's mouth. Integrity didn't dare to interrupt. “A poser is the worst thing you can be. Posing as something you're not is the most low down, disgusting, underhanded thing a vampire can do. We have nothing to hide, and any who do should be executed! Don't ever say you're a poser, or that it's okay for someone to call you one. You're not!”
The man was out of breath by the time he stopped, his face flushed with the rise of anger within him. Integrity felt slightly afraid, though she knew that Bowman would never attack her. “Sorry,” she whispered.
Paul chuckled, breaking the tension in the room. “Really, now you're going too far. Not only are you willing to let me debase you with my association, now you're apologizing to the help? At this rate, no one will believe you're the Destine.”
Integrity gave a half-hearted smile, grateful for what Paul was trying to accomplish. “I guess I'm just an all-around failure. Will you still speak to me when I'm a nobody?”
“You will always be the Destine to me,” he said with mock gravity, a closed fist placed over his heart.
“Oh, thanks,” she replied sarcastically. “Just what I want.” Bowman had gathered himself by this point and Integrity gave him a true smile. “Thank you for defending me,” she said sincerely. “I feel safe when you're around.”
Embarrassed at the attention he was receiving, Bowman grunted something unintelligible, turned, and left the room. As Paul passed by Integrity to join his partner, he whispered in her ear, “Way to go! He's blushing!”
Đ
Integrity was just finishing her lunch when Ben next came. “Ben! It's been forever!” She smiled as she crossed the room to him. “I'm so glad you came!”
“Well, look at you,” Ben said, his eyes traveling the length of her body. “All dressed up and pretty.” He kept his tone light, to ease her self-consciousness, but she still blushed. Letting his tone grow serious, he said, “You look really good.”
Ducking her head in embarrassment, Integrity muttered, “Yeah,
whatever,” hoping the sarcasm would end the conversation. She tucked her hair behind one ear and forced herself to look at him again. “How come it took so long for you to come back?”
He frowned. “I came. You weren't here. Did they make you fight again?”
“Oh, no.” Integrity waved a hand, as though it weren't serious. “Nothing like that. I was just walking around.”
“Walking around? Outside your room? You'll get caught!” Concern was apparent in his voice. “You need to be careful, Integrity.”
“Look who's talking,” she pointed out. “Besides, I have permission.”
Ben sat on the window ledge. “Permission?”
Integrity sank onto one corner of her bed, opposite him. She shrugged. “I guess they figure everyone knows I'm here now, so they can't keep me locked up all the time.”
Ben ran his fingers through his hair, then shook his head. “I don't think it's a good idea. You're not safe by yourself.”
She shifted. “I'm not by myself; Paul and Bowman go with me.”
“Who and who?”
“The guards.” She gestured toward the closed door.
“What?” Anger discolored his words. “They're your protection? Integrity, they're vampires!”
“Well,” she almost whined, “they take care of me. They've protected me before.”
“Oh, really?” He was sarcastic, his hands clenched tightly. “How so?”
She shifted again. “Someone called me something, and they got all up in his face about it.”
“Ooh.” Ben waved his fingers in the air. “So they kept someone from picking on you. Whoop-de-doo. Call out the band.”
Uncomfortable, Integrity stood and walked toward the coffee table. “You must be hungry. Let me see what I've got left.”
Ben grabbed her wrist, forcing her to stop. “We're not talking about lunch. We're talking about you trusting stinking vampires! Are you crazy?”
Integrity tried to pull her wrist back, but he tightened his grip. She took a deep breath. 'Look, Ben, let's just calm down. This isn't that big of a deal.”
“Not a big deal?” Ben was almost yelling now. Integrity glanced meaningfully at the door, and he lowered his voice. “Of course it's a big deal! What makes you think those freaks would protect you if push came to shove? What makes you think they wouldn't kill you themselves?”
“Ben, they think I'm the stinking Destine! No one's going to kill me, least of all the guys that are supposed to keep me alive!”
Ben laughed harshly. “Would you listen to yourself? Why are they supposed to keep you alive if no one wants to kill you? They're freaks, Integrity. Do you think vampires are all warm and squishy? Do you think they're going to knit you an afghan and read you a bedtime story?”
“Ben, why are you being like this? What is wrong with you?” She had to force herself not to yell in her frustration. A thought occurring to her, she rejoined, “I thought you didn't believe in vampires, anyway!”
He made a noise of disgust, threw her hand into the air and turned away from her. “It doesn't matter what I think. It's what they think that matters! They're not any less dangerous for being delusional.”
“Oh, they're not delusional,” she spat at him. “I've seen what they can do, remember?”
Ben turned back to her, then walked slowly forward, trying to regain control of himself. “Then why are you trusting them, Integrity? Why are you putting yourself at risk?”
Now that his tone wasn't so accusatory, Integrity could feel a stabbing pain in her forehead, precursor to tears. “I don't know. It's just so boring in here. It's nice to get out.” She shrugged listlessly, not meeting his gaze. Don't cry, don't cry, she ordered herself.
Silence built to a breaking point. Integrity looked up tentatively; Ben's jaw was clenched so tightly that his muscles jutted out. “Do you think I don't know what it's like to be bored? I'm the one in freaking prison, Integrity! At least you have food, a window.” He turned and stalked to the window. “You know what? Forget it.” He fumbled with the window latch, his anger disturbing his vision.
“Ben, wait!” Integrity implored.
Finally getting the window open, he swung it out and boosted himself over in a moment. “Get yourself killed. See if I care!”
Integrity leaned out over the open window, watching Ben scale down the wall as easily as though he had a ladder. “Ben, please!”
He stopped and tilted his head back, looking at her stiffly. “Go tell your new friends. Maybe they'll care. Maybe they'll protect you.”
“Ben!” It was all she could do to whisper out the choked word, her throat swelling as her vision blurred completely. She sank to the floor, leaned her head against the wall beneath the window as the tears fell. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she said as she hit her head against the wall, frustration rolling over her in waves. She didn't know if she was more mad with herself or with Ben.
A knock at the door.
Smearing the tears across her face, blinking, Integrity made out Paul's form in the doorway. “Miss? Are you okay?”
Integrity scrambled to her feet, knowing that her face must be blotchy from crying. She tried to speak, cleared her throat, then said, “Yes, I'm fine.”
“Oh.” Paul paused, then said, “Well, it's past the time that you normally go out. I wanted to make sure there wasn't anything wrong.”
She put a fake smile on her face, tried to brighten her voice. “Am I that predictable? Let me get my shoes on, and I'll be right there.”
Paul closed the door quietly and Integrity rooted roughly around in the bottom of her closet, looking for a certain pair of shoes. “I don't need anyone to protect me,” she muttered. “I can protect myself.” She slipped the shoes on, smoothed her hair, and moved with determination to the door. “Those fighting classes weren't for nothing.”
Đ
More than two weeks passed and Ben did not return. He'd been gone as long before, but not after leaving in anger. Most of the time it didn't bother Integrity, but random things would bring him to her remembrance, and she would feel uneasy. Finally, it got to the point that she couldn't take it any longer. She was desperate.
“Galia? I need a favor.”
The servant turned and looked at her master, hearing a strange seriousness in her tone. “Anything, Integrity. What do you require?”
“I need you to take this note to Ben.” She held a folded sheet of paper out. Galia did not take it. “You can read it.” Integrity offered. “There's nothing bad in it.”
Galia took the note with some trepidation, scanned the few lines it contained, and folded it once more. “I did not know you were still in contact with Ben.” Integrity made some noncommittal sound, and Galia paused. “I hesitate to do this.”
“I know it could cause trouble for you, but I'm desperate. I feel so guilty!” Integrity sounded completely exasperated. “I don't know what else to do. If I don't do something, I'm going to go crazy.” Seeing the concern on Galia's face, Integrity hedged, “Of course, you don't have to do it if you don't want to.”
Galia frowned slightly. “I will have to give this some thought. I'm not sure how I would even accomplish such a task.”
“But you'll try?” Hope colored Integrity's voice.
“Yes, I will try. I cannot promise more than that.”
Though Integrity never learned the details, a slight nod in response to a hopeful look assured her that the note had, indeed, been delivered. Now the ball was in Ben's court. So why do I still feel so guilty?
Chapter Twelve
Integrity was very confused when she was woken in the middle of the night. She wasn't afraid, recognizing on some subconscious level that only Bowman and Paul were in the room, but she had a hard time ordering her thoughts. Paul seemed to be moving constantly, though he never left the side of her bed. He kept urging her to get out of bed. She sat up groggily, squinting in the bright light. “What's going on?”
Seemingly satisfied that she was at least vertical, Paul
moved to her closet and started grabbing clothes at random. “Get dressed,” he barked. She felt as though she'd been slapped—Paul never snapped at her or ordered her around. She stumbled out of bed and over to the closet. Paul thrust a pile of clothing at her, and she took them numbly. She moved to the bathroom and started changing from her pajamas into an outfit she pulled together from the mess provided.
When she returned to the main room, she saw Paul cramming clothes into a pillowcase he had pulled from one of her pillows. “Paul, what's going on?” She felt her stomach acid rise in her esophagus.
“You're being moved,” he said, struggling to pull another pillowcase free in his haste. Integrity moved to help him, then followed as he moved back to the closet. “We've got to get you some clothes and get out of here.” As he spoke, he finished filling the case and shoved it into her arms. “Let's go.”
During this entire scene, Bowman had stood in the open door, glancing from the hallway and back into Integrity's room at regular intervals. He now gestured for Integrity to come close, and murmured something into the microphone at his wrist. The trio moved off down the hallway, Paul clenching the second pillowcase in one fist.
Moving silently, they traversed hallways and stairways. They saw no one and stopped only once. When the guards both peered surreptitiously out of a tall, thin window, Integrity looked out as well. “What the . . . ?” Both guards made movements to shush her. She fell silent and watched in disbelief.
Obviously my brain's not functioning fully, she thought. That can't be me getting in that car, and that's not Paul, and that's not Bowman. We're all standing right here! And yet, we're all out there, too. The group got in the car and it sped off into the night, kicking gravel up. Bowman let the curtain fall back into place in front of the window, and they moved on once more.
Some distance away, the trio exited the building into the bitterly cold night. Integrity felt as though her lungs had been frozen by the frigid air as Paul and Bowman shunted her into the backseat of a nearby car. Bowman slid behind the wheel while Paul joined her on the bench seat in the back. The car pulled silently away from the building, headlights off.
Integrity: Book One of the Destine Series Page 16
