“Holy crap. Was that gin?”
“It was meant to be medicinal.”
He sat down and swung his long legs up onto the bed, coming to rest shoulder to shoulder with her. His bulk was comforting, and she was happy to sag against him and feel the rumble of his deep voice like a cat’s purr when he spoke.
They sat there in silence for a moment watching the clouds shift in the sky outside the open doors, bellies showing sherbet orange and pink as the rising sun caught them.
“Better now?” he asked.
She nodded. “Better now. I’m fine. I swear.”
It was true, especially compared to where she’d been a few weeks ago. When she’d seen herself for the first time after she arrived, Hannah wasn’t sure how she’d even made it this far. It looked like she’d been set on fire and thrown off a cliff.
She shifted her leg to look at the burns that had been raw and weeping then, but were now covered in crackly looking scabs. In a month all that would be left of them were scars, a permanent geometric pattern of diamonds to remind her of those horrible damn pants.
All the other parts of her were healing tolerably too. The dislocated shoulder only troubled her if she lifted her arm over her head, and the assortment of cuts and abrasions had been replaced with new, tender patches of skin that were shiny and tight. Her ankle still hurt—it had most certainly been fractured or even broken—but the bones were at least in place. She could move it gingerly, and if she didn’t try to put too much weight on it, the pain was bearable.
“How much longer do you think we’re safe here?” she said. “I’m healing pretty fast, but I could use a little more vacation time before I can even think about another go-round with your sister.” The air was still cool from the night, and she leaned against Asher’s arm and laid her head against his shoulder, enjoying the warmth that rolled off him. Closing her eyes she thought about all the battered parts of her. Her father might not be a regular human, and Hannah might heal a little quicker than most, but really she was just a regular, badly banged-up person who wouldn’t be in fighting shape for a little while yet.
When she turned her head, still waiting for his answer, he was looking down at her.
“What?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Nothing. You are a particular woman, Hannah.”
She’d been called worse. Maybe he meant peculiar. His grammar was a little wacky.
“While we have been here I have seen nothing to make me believe our location has been discovered. I think we are safe here for the time being, as safe as I know how to make us. Had I known what was coming, though, I would have come here in the beginning. I am sorry.”
“For what?”
“For being selfish. If we had come here sooner this might have been avoided, but I hesitated because this is my home and I have never brought another person here. It is the only place I have managed to keep hidden from my sister and anyone else for any length of time.”
“I hope it can stay that way. I’m sorry that bringing me here might blow that.” She truly was.
He shrugged. “It makes no matter. If this is the last time it exists as such a sanctuary, so be it. But we need some more time, and remaining here is the only way I can think of to buy it.”
Hannah plopped down onto the bench and leaned uncomfortably against the stone back to catch her breath. She could make it down the stairs by herself now, but it wasn’t pretty.
Almost since she’d arrived Hannah had been hobbling to the bathroom and around the bedroom, embarrassed at having to be carried around. She’d started by shoving a chair in front of her for support, until Asher had hacked an improvised cane from a gnarled branch for her. It was a kind gesture, though it may have had something to do with the trail of scuff marks she’d made across the tile in her bedroom.
But he’d had to continue to bring Hannah out here every day, carrying her around the long stretch of balcony, down the stairs, and out into the brightness of the courtyard. She loved the open space that was so warm and sun-lit, with a big, graceful fountain splashing and flinging sparkling droplets into the air. Twisting trees in giant pots reached from the corners up to the railings that wrapped around the second-story, their wrought-iron scrollwork embroidering intricate shadows on the red tile of the floor.
Shifting in an attempt to get comfortable against the pointy carvings behind her back, she looked over to the fountain where a bird had swooped down and landed. Hannah watched in amusement when it ignored her and began to splash at its reflection in the fountain. Its mate soon joined it, perching on the edge to watch, head cocked at the display.
The pair abruptly shot away, darting back into the sky. She turned to see Asher stepping out through the doors from the kitchen.
“I do wonder what goes on between you and the animals,” he said.
He handed her one of the glasses he was carrying and Hannah had to make an effort not to break into too great a smile. It was difficult; Asher was so abnormally attractive no normal person would be able to ignore it, let alone her, and here it was even more difficult.
It was harder because Asher was different here, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on any one reason why. His looks had changed, but only slightly; he had shaved, his hair was longer, falling over his forehead, and he hadn’t stood it up with frustration in days. He was growing more tan, and in the full noonday sun over the courtyard, his eyes leaned decidedly toward blue, the skin at the edges crinkling when he laughed or smiled.
Maybe that was the difference. Here he never went dark. This Asher nearly always laughed and smiled.
“Do you like it?” He nodded toward the glass she’d forgotten in her hand.
“Not another one of your medicinal beverages, is it?” Hannah took a sip from the glass. This drink was delicious and icy cold. She wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but she tasted lime, and dark, sweet rum.
“I like it.” She turned to set it on the side table, swearing when the bench dug into her back. Asher burst out laughing.
“It wasn’t that funny.” She turned to frown at him, but failed to look properly put out, because he was doing it, grinning and laughing a big, genuine laugh.
“I am sorry. But you surprised me by coming down on your own today, and I did not get a chance to cover the bench with the pillows and blankets. Now you will be able to see it was not solely for your comfort.”
Hannah turned around and looked at the bench she’d been sitting on every day for weeks now. For the first time, she saw the carvings in detail.
“Ugh, good lord.” She shook her head. “If I had known what was poking me in the back…” The carvings were very well done, of men and women in the midst of all sorts of activities. The utmost attention had been paid to every anatomical detail. No attention had been wasted on clothing. “Did you have this made to your specifications or did it come with the house?” she said.
“When I bought this house twenty years ago, the realtor told me some elaborate fairy tale about how it had been originally built as a retreat for monks, as a place for them to come for reflection and prayer. The realtor was remarkably creative, giving me the details of every nook and crevice.” He laughed and said, “I did not bother to correct her, but it was hard to keep my composure as she went on and on, knowing there was not a bit of truth to any of it. I knew this because although I was buying the house, it was not for the first time.”
“Why would you need to buy your own house more than once?”
“I sell it to different people every once in a while to retain its secrecy. Aliases are never foolproof, and everything leaves a trail if you know what to look for. By removing it completely from my possession every so often I can sever the link, making it nearly impossible to tie to me. Plus, it leaves the improvements to someone else. Saves me a fortune in renovations.”
“What if someone doesn’t want . . .” Hannah had turned slightly to talk, and now there was a tiny carved body part poking her between the ribs. “Never mind.
This bench?”
“I am getting to it,” he said. “The bench is from one of those periods where I had sold it temporarily. It has been inhabited by some interesting people.”
“More interesting than you?”
“Vastly. Once it belonged to a smuggler who used it to move things in and out through the swamp that backs up to the property. He added the tunnel that leads down to the water so he could come and go, poling his goods in and out unseen. It was a speakeasy for a time, and the same tunnels were used to hide illegal alcohol. It was once a school for young girls.”
“I’m guessing they didn’t put in the bench?”
“Of course not. I made use of the tunnel then myself, moving it there for safekeeping. The bench is from the period before it was a school, when this house was a bordello.”
Hannah leaned away from the back of the bench. “That is gross. I’ve been lying on this thing for weeks.”
He laughed at the look on her face. “I admit I did not sell the house on that occasion knowing what it was intended for, but you do have them to thank for the fountain. Gentlemen would arrive and the proprietor would seat them on this bench—a piece of work she brought with her all the way from France, a gift one of her lovers carved for her. The men would throw coins in the fountain for the ladies to go splashing after until their gowns were thoroughly soaked, making it easier for the men to see what they were selecting.”
She shook her head, not as amused as he was.
“That’s why you kept the bench?”
“No. I kept the bench because of the artist; he is one of my kind. He is still creating, though I think he did his best work in his first couple of lives, when he was painting cathedral ceilings and sculpting saints and religious whatnot. And women.” He looked at Hannah and grinned. “His ability to capture the likeness of a woman was incredible, and he never missed a chance to paint a nude. But in any case, can you imagine the value of this bench, created by a man who is in reality four or five of the greatest artists to ever live? It is not particularly comfortable, I will give you that, but it has to be one of the most valuable pieces of art on the earth.”
Hannah laughed, amazed and amused by the story, and by him. Asher was happy here, and she could see why he loved the house, with all its layers of history. It really was a sanctuary, tucked away from the world at the bottom of an endless crushed-shell driveway between a border of live oaks. Tall trees hid it from the world, clinging close to the house, dripping Spanish moss over the roofline of the mission-style house like hanks of witches’ hair peeking into the courtyard.
It was also silent. The immense quiet here had initially felt strange after so much chaos, but she quickly came to appreciate the value it, of the world outside that was so distant no man-made sound could break though and reach them.
Her satisfied smile faded. Because they could be reached. Eventually they would be found. A shadow passed overhead at the same time it passed over her features, thinking about what was out there, beyond these silent walls. This bird circled but flew away without landing.
27
“I’m glad you’re tall.” Hannah yanked down the t-shirt she was wearing as a dress, tugging it back down from where it had crept up when she reached up to open the cabinet. She wasn’t thrilled with the t-shirt-as-clothing situation, but she didn’t have anything else. At least his gigantic shirts were long enough on her, if a little breezy.
Asher stepped behind her and reached up, taking the bowl she trying to put away and placing it in the cabinet. She swatted him away.
“I can do it.”
She felt him laugh against her back before he stepped away.
“You are incredibly stubborn.”
That was true. Especially about doing everything she could in the kitchen, since it was the only thing she could contribute. Glaring at him good-naturedly, Hannah propped her cane against the cabinet and washed and dried the plate from the mountain of pancakes he’d just demolished. She then limped over to sit beside him where he was making his way through a pile of no-bake cookies. The man could eat, there was no doubt about that. It made her feel good about her cooking skills, because he seemed to like everything well enough and he never turned down a second helping. He hadn’t complained about breakfast for dinner for the fifth time either, even though it was starting to wear a little thin on her. Then again, maybe he had absolutely no taste buds, like Gabe suggested. Maybe those didn’t improve with age.
“These are very good. I do not think I have had them before. What are they?” he said around a mouthful.
“The only other thing I know how to make with oatmeal.”
He put away a couple more as she picked hers apart, taking a small bite here and there, but mostly smooshing it into pieces. Asher shot her a raised eyebrow, and she took an exaggerated bite.
“Hannah, we have discussed this. I need to go, and some distance from the house. I cannot risk being seen near here. It would be too dangerous.”
She frowned. This wasn’t a new conversation, but she hadn’t quit hoping to change how it ended.
“Then let me go with you. I’m pretty much on my feet now. And you stick out more than I do. I can go inside and you can drive the getaway car.”
The problem was, they needed supplies. The house had been fairly well stocked with nonperishables when they arrived, but they were quickly running through the contents of the cupboards. There were some canned goods and dried things left, but those wouldn’t last much longer, especially at the rate Asher ate. He was planning a trip out to resupply and Hannah had been steadily trying to dissuade him, or at least convince him to take her with him. He refused to consider it, insisting on going alone since she was still recovering. Hannah saw the sense, but didn’t relish the idea of being left alone.
“What if we wait? We can stretch what’s here a little bit longer, until I’m off this cane. Just a couple more days?” she wheedled.
Asher shook his head. He wouldn’t budge. “I am going tonight.” He finished the last cookie and got up. “But there is something I want to show you before I leave. Just in case.”
He waited patiently as she maneuvered up the stairs, then went through the door into his bedroom. Hannah paused just outside. She clomped her way pretty freely around the house, but she hadn’t been inside his room before.
“Come in.” Asher waved her over the threshold. She crossed the room, her cane heavy against the painted terra-cotta tiles on the floor. Each one was a small piece of art, and it seemed like a shame to cover a single one with the rug and the vast bed with its heavy posts of twisting wrought iron.
Beyond the bed, past a fireplace and a comfortable looking overstuffed chair, Asher opened a door and waited for her to follow him into the cavernous closet. At the far end he pressed a hand against the coffered wall and the whole thing rotated noiselessly.
An “ooh” she couldn’t contain slipped out. He nodded in agreement. Behind the cleverly hidden door was another closet of a sort, like the one they had come from, though similar only in size. In features it was more like a bank vault.
“If something should happen and I do not come back as planned.” He pulled out drawer after drawer. Money, in any number of currencies. Gemstones and gold coins in plastic tubes the size of half-dollar rolls. A rack of keys to various vehicles, their locations written on the tags. A stack of thin drawers holding deeds to properties, titles, documents.
And weapons. He handed her a compact black handgun.
“You can manage this?”
She nodded and took it, turning it over, taking notice of how to drop the clip and where the safety was, knowing she could use it, hoping she wouldn’t have to.
“I have never really needed to worry about security here as there has never been anyone to protect here but me. The building itself is solid and secure, but there are no alarms, no cameras. And if Amara or someone else wants to find a way in badly enough, they will.”
“I could come with you.”
He
shook his head at her final stab at getting her own way. “I hope to come and go quickly, and until your leg is fully healed you are safer here. This is just a precaution.”
He turned toward the door, but instead of leaving he pushed the wall they had come through shut and cranked down on a lever, shooting two thick bars into slots on either side of the door.
“Come in here if you hear anything out of the ordinary. Even if you just have a bad feeling, trust your instincts. Come here, lock yourself in, and wait. Stay inside as long as you can.” He opened one of the lower cabinets wide for her to see inside. “There is food and water enough for a week at least, if I am delayed and need to stay away to ensure I do not lead my sister back to you. If anything happens, come in here, stay hidden, and I will return without fail.” His voice was intense. The room behind the closet seemed smaller now, overwhelmingly hot with the two of them bolted inside. He was stern and serious, and he filled up the space. She imagined being trapped in here and it made her heart accelerate. Perhaps he heard it, because he released the bolt and pulled the door open.
That night, after he had left under cover of the cloudless sky, Hannah tossed and turned in a futile attempt at sleep. Giving up, she did what she normally did when she couldn’t make her thoughts stop racing.
She started with the kitchen, wiping down every surface, polishing off invisible fingerprints and straightening the contents of every shelf. After awkwardly sweeping the floor she moved to the living room, dusting every piece of furniture, straightening objects a millimeter here and there into perfect alignment. She did the same in the dining room, working her way around the house, only avoiding the courtyard where the gaping square of sky overhead was like a hungry open mouth, the moss whispering eerily against the roof tiles in the breeze. She listened intently for movement, the darkness and quiet in the house ominous without his presence.
Echoes (Book 1): Echoes Page 22
