Fall (Roam Series, Book Two)

by Stedronsky, Kimberly

  My jacket became a foreign object, my fingers refusing to operate the zipper. Finally pulling the tab up, I left the bags by the door and ran for my father’s car keys. When they weren’t on the microwave, I checked the hook below the house phone next.

  A sliding sound upstairs, directly above my head, brought vomit to my mouth.

  “Hello,” I choked, and then silently cursed myself for being stupid. Yes, announce that you’re here, so let the attack begin! I stepped lightly to the garage door and slipped into the garage, breathing evenly. Don’t react, act. The words of my kickboxing instructor surfaced as I continued to count, calming my nerves. Run. Don’t be a victim.

  Pressing the button to open the garage door, I widened my eyes as the motor refused to begin the lift. Broken. I’d forgotten the motor died over a month ago. Hurrying to the man door, I fumbled with the deadbolt before it finally released. My boots were still by the front door, but at least I had my coat. My thigh-high stockings were warm, but my feet were instantly soaked and freezing as I ran through the snow, toward the road. The moonlight reflected off the drifts, lighting the night around me.

  The breathing and heavy footsteps closed in from behind. Keep running and get caught from behind, or fight? I was confident that I could defend myself- a little- but wished for something, anything, to serve as a weapon. The keys, still in my hand, were my only option. I grasped them, stopping suddenly and turning around. As I did, my foot slid on the wet snow and I went backwards, landing hard on my hip and elbow.

  He was on me in seconds. I screamed as he caught my hand in mid air, the gouging keys ready to plunge into his neck.

  As I finally focused, my heart stopped beating.

  West gazed down at me, releasing my arm and slipping his hands behind my head, through the snow.

  “Is it you?” My voice wavered, tears thick in my throat.

  “Roam,” his dark blue eyes caught the silver flecks of the moon. He lowered his lips to mine, and I blinked away at the scalding tears mixed with falling snow. “I thought I’d never see you again,” he murmured.

  I cried, unable to believe he was holding me in his arms. “How are you here?” I gasped, the warm heat of his body, the taste of his mouth, his voice sending me into a frantic calm. “How?”

  “I figured it out… the numbers, the fountains. Cleveland.” He lifted me into his arms. I gripped his neck with all of my strength, pressing my face to his chest.

  “Don’t let me go,” I whispered brokenly, my torrent of tears breaking against his warm skin.

  “Never again,” he promised, carrying me back to the house.

  Chapter Eight

  Once inside, in the sobering kitchen light, he gently lowered me to a chair. I watched him intently as he knelt and unrolled the wet stockings from my feet. Sitting motionless, I stared at him, unable to admit to myself that he was real. His dark blonde hair, longer than I’d ever seen it, curled at his neck. His strikingly handsome face was covered in a full beard, slightly darker than his hair, somehow making him appear even more attractive. He lifted his eyes to mine, dropping my stockings to the floor and reaching for my jacket zipper.

  “Are you okay?” He asked softly, pulling the tab. As he reached my stomach, his fingers grazed my abdomen. He groaned, lowering his face. “Oh, Roam…,”

  I tangled his hair in my fingers, closing my eyes as his lips pressed against our child. “I’m… almost twelve weeks… and…,” I stopped speaking as he lifted his eyes to mine. Tears turned his gaze to mirrored glass.

  “…and I just chased you down. Let me see your arm.” He slipped the sleeves of my coat down my arms, gently gathering my elbow in his hands. “Can you extend it?”

  “I’m okay, really,” I pressed both my palms to cup his face, pulling him to me. “Please just… kiss me.”

  As his lips claimed mine, I couldn’t get close enough to him. Every fiber of my body stirred with wanting, a need that could never be extinguished with time, or change…

  Or Logan.

  “How do you feel?” He flattened his hand on the small of my back, making small, circular motions. I basked in the way that he tasted as his lips moved over mine lovingly.

  “I was sick for a while… but the nausea is finally wearing off.” I sighed deeply, needing to be nearer to him than I was. “How did you get in the house?” I asked, between breaths. He chuckled, kissing my nose.

  “Always, questions,” he said affectionately, moving his lips to my forehead. “The sliding glass door in the dining room. I broke the lock.”

  “West, Troy is here… he called my sister and told her he’d come here tonight,” I glanced around the empty house. “We have to leave- now,” I stood, pulling him to his feet with me.

  “I know- we fought,” he gathered me against him. “He was going to my house, thinking you’d be there. I knew you were here- I called Logan.”

  The phone call. That would explain his sudden change in behavior when he came to say goodbye.

  Frozen, my eyes widened as I realized where Troy was going. “No… Violet is… West, Violet is at your house,” I breathed, covering my mouth.

  His eyes turned to ice. In seconds he was heading for the door. “You have keys? For your dad’s car?”

  “Yes- and those are our bags-…,”

  “Hurry, baby,” he grabbed my boots, lining them up as I slipped them on. “My God, I sent him there,” he murmured under his breath.

  “You didn’t know she’d be there- she just got here this morning,” I followed him out the door to the driveway. My dad’s pick-up was parked near the garage door. “Are you sure that he went there?”

  He shoved the key into the ignition of the old Chevy. “Buckle up,” he fired, flying out of the driveway. The back end of the truck fish-tailed in the snowy road. “Is she alone? Is Logan with her?”

  “She’s alone,” my hands shook, and I kicked our bags away from my feet. “He’s going to kill her,” I battled the surge of tears burning my eyes. “West, he’s going to kill her…,”

  “Stay calm,” he said, but he was anything but as his fingers gripped the steering wheel. He took turns at a dangerous speed, and I prayed the police were all occupied elsewhere in town. “I want you to stay in the truck when we get there. No matter what happens,” he grabbed my hand, holding it tightly. “Be ready to drive. Go straight to Logan.”

  “I can’t lose you again,” I shouted, my words wet and wavering. “I’m not leaving there alone.”

  His hand, still in mine, grasped my middle lovingly. “You’re not alone. You have to protect yourself- and our baby.”

  I shattered. There was no way I could hold the tears back any longer. I buried my face in his shoulder, soaking his shirt, tangling the lap belt in my fingers. My own shoulders rose and fell in relieved sobs, and he struggled to hold me and drive at the same time.

  “Shh,” he whispered, pressing kisses to my hair. “I love you.”

  “Please stay with me,” I cried, touching his face. He nodded, brushing his hands over my hair.

  “I’m going to get Violet. I have to. None of this has anything to do with her. Troy is probably waiting for me.”

  He swerved onto the back road leading to his house, sliding through the icy, covered bridge. I composed myself, using the thick, cowl neck of my dress to dry my face. West snapped the headlights off as he pulled into his driveway.

  I saw his Pilot first…

  And then Logan’s Camry.

  “I thought Logan wasn’t here?” He turned to me quickly. I shook my head, indicating that I had no idea that he was there.

  My first thought, my trusting, loving instinct, was to believe the obvious; Logan had left my house, since West had called him, and decided to go be with Violet.

  That made the most sense; that was the best scenario.

  The second scene began with a series of years throughout time… Logan holding me as Troy shoved a knife in my neck in the middle of a forest in France… Logan pressing my tortured
body to the scum-covered dungeon stone, raping me…

  Murder, night after night, for centuries.

  These past two months, I would wonder what it’d be like to kill you… now.

  “Don’t trust Logan,” I breathed, not capable of handling the guilt that corrupted my body with sudden impact; I turned and wrenched the truck door open to vomit into the snow. West reached for me, holding me from falling forward as I gagged.

  “You think he’s working with Troy?” His voice was gentle, forgiving; I nodded, unable to say the words out loud. “I’ll be careful.”

  I sat back in the seat, sniffing as I dug a napkin out of my dad’s glove compartment. “My mouth tastes awful...,”

  He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I don’t care.”

  Nevertheless, I pressed my forehead to his lips, hugging him with every bit of strength I had left. “I’m waiting.”

  He nodded. I watched him get out of the truck and disappear into the darkness.

  Seconds were hours. I stared so intently at the darkened house that I began to imagine that I saw things moving in the windows or on the porch. No lights, no sounds- absolute silence. From the driver’s seat, I had an unobstructed view of the front of the house, running the wipers to dust the falling snow away often. My fingers began to ache before I realized that I was twisting them beyond their abilities. West, where are you?

  After thirty minutes, I began to rationalize going in. You’re stupid. Like the idiots in the every horror movie you’ve ever seen. I thought of West, walking in and not knowing what to expect. If Logan wasn’t working with Troy, then his life was at stake, as well as Violet’s.

  Could I live without them, knowing I did nothing to try to help them?

  Before I went in, I’d have to get some kind of weapon. My dad’s truck was empty, except for some coffee cups and paperwork. I turned around to peer into the bed of the truck; it was covered in snow, but I was sure that it was empty as well. I wasn’t confident in my aptitude for self-defense against a loaded gun- if Troy even had one- and I needed something that would put me on equal ground.

  Think. What does Troy want the most?

  I sucked in my breath as the pulling sensation pulsed again deep inside my abdomen, as if to answer my question. I held the child beneath my sweater, steadying my breath.

  He wants my baby. He wants me.

  I unlocked the door, my boots meeting the snow softly. More than an inch had fallen since we arrived. Tucking the keys into the wide pockets on the front of my dress, I slowly moved toward the house. Keys… another weapon.

  The moonlight sliced through an oversized icicle that hung from the gutter on the porch. I stared at the point on the ice, thinking about my dream, and the ice-chandelier.

  You think these are dreams of another world? One we were both in?

  Logan’s voice came back to me, lingering. I reached for the thick icicle with a snap. My fingers were cold enough to stick to the frosted ice without melting it- at first. I moved to the front door, deciding there was no reason to walk around the house. At this point, I was obviously an expected guest. My heart slammed against my ribcage, skipping beats randomly and leaving me struggling for air. I gripped the broad end of the icicle, turning the doorknob.

  Unlocked. Stepping inside the doorway, I swallowed hard and tucked the icicle behind my back. Where is he?

  “And… she just walks right in.”

  I jolted, almost dropping the ice. Troy stood across the living room near the kitchen, casually leaning against the counter top.

  All oxygen left the space between us.

  He already has the upper hand if you can’t breathe.

  My eyes scanned the space. West, Logan, and Violet were nowhere to be seen; the entire house was deadly silent. A single lamp partially illuminated the room in a sickening yellow way, casting shadows over corners.

  “Are we going to ta-lk again? Be-cause I have some ques-tions,” my voice shook horribly, and I cursed myself for not having the nerves of a badass movie star heroine.

  “Whatever you want.”

  I stared him down, fear clawing at my veins. He murdered you. He will do it again. Run! Every rational thought I had was held at bay; I needed answers. “Where is West?”

  “In the basement, with the other one.”

  I nodded, furious with myself. I had no idea how to get to the basement, or that West’s house even had a basement. And… the ice was melting.

  “Are they… alive?”

  I could barely understand myself. His eyes were the lightest blue I’d ever seen- cutting through the darkness like eerie lights. Brown hair, straight and short; defined jaw, cleft chin. Almost as tall as West. Menacing. No sign of a gun.

  He lowered his eyes, as if peering through the hard wood floor. “West, as you know, is immortal,” he ticked his fingers in the air mockingly. “Curly- well, choked her about an hour ago.”

  I exhaled, my stomach turning. No… Violet is dead? “Where is Logan?”

  “Right here.” His warm voice caught me by surprise. I shook as he moved in from behind me, pulling the icicle from my fingers. “What were you going to do with this? Your hand would slide right down the ice.”

  I felt his hands engulf my wrists, and moaned out loud.

  No… the nightmares…

  Logan held me tightly by the wrists, his fingers digging into my skin.

  “Logan, help me,” I whispered, knowing my words were wasted.

  He turned me quickly to face him. I trembled violently, barely able to stand. Remember what you learned! Fight!

  Voices were muted; terror reigned over my senses. Ringing settled in my ears.

  “Wait, did I say that I choked her?” Troy chuckled from behind me. I stared into Logan’s eyes, the deep brown depths a hollow well of nothingness. “Logan, how did it feel? When you squeezed her neck, she didn’t die right away… she just sort of… gasped… after a few minutes. And then-…,”

  “Stop,” I cried, tears racing down my cheeks. Logan reached for them, and I smacked his hand away, my fingers still numb from the ice.

  “Let’s bring him up.” Troy’s voice seemed to reverberate from every corner of the room, amplified in my ears. Logan turned me around again so that my back was to his chest. Troy disappeared into what I thought was a pantry in the kitchen.

  The basement door.

  “Logan please tell me you’re faking this,” I hushed, pleading.

  “I killed her, Roam…,” Logan’s voice was unrecognizable. “I killed her in front of her father. I…,”

  Troy returned at that moment with West.

  I dropped to my knees, but Logan caught me before I fell.

  West’s face was bloodied, as if he’d been beaten… but not with a fist. His eyes rolled in his head as he struggled to focus. Handsome face severed, beard matted with clotted blood. His hands were bound with duct tape.

  “No!” I screamed, horror stealing my ability to breathe. I gasped painfully, forgetting how to draw my breath. Troy dropped West to the carpet and walked to me.

  I backed against Logan, but Troy delivered a powerful slap to my left cheek before I could wince.

  Stars. Lightening.

  My eye felt lost in the socket. “No fainting. Not for this.” He grinned. “Both of you, awake.”

  Somewhere between consciousness and lucidity, I thought of my mother. She would hum during her chemotherapy treatments, smiling at Morgan and me. Later, after sores plagued her mouth and the vomiting began, she’d still hum when we came into her room, comforting, assuring us that she was alright.

  Even at the end… when she knew it was over.

  Be brave. Straightening, I lifting my chin. My nose and eye throbbed; I could taste blood. A warm trail dripped from my nose to my lip. “Did you do that to him, Logan?” I asked, stronger, fear turning cold. Troy began duct-taping West’s ankles.

  “No.” Logan’s breathing intensified; I recognized something in his voice. Anger?

  “W
est came right to us when he saw his daughter’s life was at stake- again.” Troy grinned, crossing his arms over his chest. “He was surprised that Logan was working with me.”

  “Of course he was.” I blew at a piece of hair stuck to my bloodied lip. “Since this is it, will you answer some questions for me?”

  Troy closed the distance between us. I backed against Logan, flattened so tightly to his chest that I could feel his heart pounding on my back.

  “What’s that, princess?”

  “I was yours… wasn’t I?” I searched his eyes in the shadows.

  Troy’s eyebrows snapped together, his fists clenching at his sides. “What did you say?” His breath was sickly sweet, and I tried not to inhale.

  “In this other world, I was yours.” I took a steadying breath through my mouth, keeping my eyes at his neck. “But I… hurt you. How did I hurt you? What could I have done for you to kill me… over and over again? Why do you hate me so much?”

  He sneered, lowering his hands to my waist. I gasped as they slid over my stomach, his touch through the sweater material beyond disgusting. Logan’s grasp on my wrists tightened. I felt him tense; Troy’s actions were disturbing to him.

  “You want to know?” He stopped touching me as his eyes impaled mine. “We ruled. Together. You and my brother conspired to take the throne from me. But you would betray him as well,” he snarled, lifting his eyes to Logan’s.

  “Logan was your brother?” My teeth rattled inside my mouth.

  “And you whored yourself to him, as well as my knight.”

  West. My eyes shifted to West, and I stiffened. A slight movement from the open basement door caught my eye.

  Violet’s blonde head appeared in the bottom of the doorway, crawling toward West with a knife.

  I looked back at Troy quickly. She is alive… Logan will see her any minute! Engage him!

  “So what happens when you move through these doors? What are you? Are you still a king?” I cringed as he leaned impossibly close to my face.

  “The doors take me to a prison. A wasteland of what my kingdom used to be.” He slid his fingers through my hair and around the back of my neck. I cried softly, turning my face so his mouth wouldn’t touch mine. “You look like her.” His fingers tightened on my skin, and I shuddered. “This last life is unforgiving.”