Riley had no words.
Only a sickly sort of sensation rolling across his nerves.
There was no way this was true. The things he did were mundane, pointless.
“I don’t understand,” he muttered after a minute.
“I don’t fully either,” Aunt May sat back a little. “But the powers that be give me things to see, and I pass those things along. Their message to you is, your gift will grow and change, like you. But never, no matter what it may appear, is it ever unimportant. You are a Fixer, Riley Deane. You have the ability to fix things that should not be broken.”
“A Fixer?” He shook his head. “I don’t fix things. I break them. The blood in my veins ruins lives.”
“Yes, I can see how you would think that. But this last thing that happened to you. The event that sent you our direction. Did that have anything to do with your gift?”
“Um, no. It did not. I was cursed. Wait, how do you… never mind.”
She smiled. Kindly. “Then why do you blame yourself? Curses take away our choices.”
He got up and made to leave, but stopped. This was just super creepy. His hand stopped turning the doorknob and he spun around.
“I don’t know what powers that be, you’re working for, or think need to send me some kind of message, but… I hurt people. With these hands. My hands.” He showed her. “There’s no way to fix that.”
“It was a terrible thing. I’m sure it gives you nightmares.”
“A few,” he answered before he could stop himself.
“Riley, I can’t pretend to understand, or lie and say I see all. I can only share what I’m given. So let me ask you this? In any event in history, when tragedy strikes in some inhumane manner, what happens after?”
“History, not really my thing.”
She waited, still expecting him to answer.
“What you want me to say?”
“People get stronger. They get smarter. They don’t make those mistakes again.”
“So you’re saying it happened to teach us all a lesson? That’s just… sick and wrong on so many levels.”
“Sadly, it’s not. If there’s something coming, something you’re truly not prepared for, that you absolutely must be prepared for, those lessons must be taught and learned in a hurry.”
“I’m not a pawn in someone’s crazy game. None of us are. That’s bullshit. No one has the right to treat people’s lives like that. And I don’t do the whole fate crap. I tolerate this gift because I have to. I refuse to be someone’s else’s game piece.”
Aunt May gave him a thin smile. “Fate will find you whether you believe in it or not. Sometimes terrible things happen for very specific reasons.”
Riley put his hand to his face, thinking over the woman’s words. It still seemed wrong to him. For bad things to happen just so someone else could learn some kind of lesson.
“You are wondering who is learning what from this terrible thing you’ve survived?” she assumed.
“I’m going to guess everyone,” he retorted.
“Unavoidable, I’m sure. Everyone will take something away from the experience.”
“Whatever. Still doesn’t change what I did. It doesn’t remove the curse of being born a Deane. And…” he shook his head. “Back up a minute. Lessons schmessons! You think all this happened because something worse is coming… worse than what we just went through?”
“I cannot say with any certainty. But there’s something… it stirs in the depths.”
Riley needed a drink. Preferably, many.
None of this made any sense. And what did it even matter?
“It’s not going to happen tonight,” Aunt May chuckled. “You have time before you go home.”
“Home? If you mean The Demon Isle, you’re mistaken. That’s not my home.”
“Maybe it is, maybe it is not. I cannot see it.”
Riley plunked back down in the chair. “This undetermined nasty thing you see coming, you see it on The Demon Isle, don’t you?”
“Yes. Not only there. But it begins there.” May’s eyes began to flutter, her eyes vibrating between white and brown. “If this evil does not end on the Isle, it will spread. Everywhere. The world will be changed.” Her voice lowered. “For she awakens…”
“She who?” asked Riley.
Aunt may sucked in, blinking a few times. Brown irises replacing the fluttering white. “Sorry, that’s all they gave me.” She reached out her hand and touched his. A low-level zap ran up his arm but he didn’t pull back. “You’re a good kid. You’ll do okay.”
Riley frowned. First, he wasn’t a kid. And second, she made it sound like it was easy, done, and settled. He had half a mind to demand what exactly was all figured out because he was no less confused now than when he walked in, but instead got up to leave.
“Um… thanks. I guess.”
“Not needed. Simply doing my job. I suggest you do the same. We’re all given gifts for a reason, Riley. No matter how mundane or silly they might first seem.”
He left without another word to her.
Gifts. Lessons. Some kind of she-evil rising… still cursed blood in his veins.
Aunt May sat back and glanced to her side.
“I know you can hear me out there, old friend.”
A back door opened and a dark form slid inside, sticking to the shadows.
“Thank you, Aunt May.”
“Always at your service, Sir. More than happy to help.”
“Your reading with him was very thorough. Much more than we discussed.”
“You might have used magic to get him here, but once in my presence I passed along what I was given. It was all truth. All things he needed to hear.”
There was a lamenting sigh from the shadow.
“Something stirs in the depths, my old friend… an ancient evil. An evil this modern world has never laid witness to.” Aunt May lost her smile.
“And Riley Deane?”
“Has some part yet to play. No matter your plans for him. And as for tonight, watch over the kid. He’s going on a bender, going to find himself in trouble.”
The figure nodded, heeding Aunt May’s advice and vanished out of the shop.
Outside on the sidewalk Annie leaned against the wall spying Riley spill out of Aunt May’s in a hurry to get away.
“Hey. How’d it go? Aunt May, something else, right?”
“I need a drink.”
“Ugh. That bad?”
“I don’t know. She spouted a bunch of stuff that makes sense but then really makes no sense at all, and I just… need a stiff-ass drink. Or ten. Closest pub possible.”
“This is New Orleans. Toss a coin,” she joked, trying to lighten the mood. He lifted an eyebrow at her but mood, no less grumpy. “There’s one across the street,” she pointed out. “Can’t join you right now though. Just got a call from Jean, I gotta head back.”
“Oh, um, should I go with you?”
“Nah. I got it. You go drink off your woes. Can you find your way back later tonight?”
“Yeah. I think so. How late can I get back in?”
“Anytime. The door to the shop stays open all day and night.”
“I guess I’ll see you later. Thanks for showing me around, Annie.”
“No worries. Still lots more to see. We’ll do it again.” She took off with a wave.
Riley made his way across the street and ordered a shot and a beer, any kind.
CHAPTER 16
The conversation was unpleasant as everyone expected.
Heated. Dismal. Wavering. Thick, the oxygen sucked out of the room little by little. Not willing to surrender, or damn William, with finality. But feeling as if it was too late and his fate, sealed.
In the end, they deemed it only fair to capture William. If they could. If it was actually him on a bloodlust rampage, which was getting more and more likely by the minute. The evidence mounting against his favor. But if they could capture him, calm him, and let him get his head
on straight, he’d understand what was happening. And they’d allow him to choose his own fate… his own death.
They owed him at least this… the chance to say goodbye. Some sort of closure. It seemed slightly more ethical, and respectful, given all he’d done for the Howards, and the Isle, versus hunting him down and staking him without pause or explanation.
It was so little to offer.
And nothing to look forward to.
And potentially much more difficult than just getting the task done, as it gave them all more time to think about, and dread, the outcome as well as the act of carrying out the sentence.
A future without William.
Killing someone none of them wanted to kill.
Killing someone that had saved their lives, plus the lives of other Howard’s so many times.
Their friend…
Did it really end like this?
The unfairness of it tore at them.
The brothers and Mack had done most of the debating, with Lizzy chiming in. Melinda didn’t say much, other than agreeing or disagreeing when asked directly. The brothers wondered if they should have left her out of this conversation. They wanted her to have a say, but it was eating her alive. With every final choice made they watched a little of her wither away. Shielding her from it would not change the brutal outcome.
The confidence she had built up during the night she’d run away to Lizzy’s and asked her to teach her, had all but shriveled up and died. Melinda was already facing a life without being able to love William. Now, it would be life without him at all.
Guilt reeled like pins poking inside Melinda’s gut.
Shame filled her breaths.
This is all my fault.
“No. It’s not.”
Melinda met Charlie’s gaze, having not realized her thought came across her tongue, not just in her mind.
“You can’t pretend it’s not. If I’d done what I was supposed to, and shared my dream…” her voice shook and she had to stop.
“What’s done is done,” Charlie told her.
“It doesn’t make it any less my fault. William will die because I didn’t do my job.” They would all lose him because she’d failed. He’d been captured trying to save her. Tortured trying to keep her alive. All because she was too afraid to tell him about a dream. And now, the aftermath was that man willing to suffer and die for her, and the man she loved, was in some uncontrollable blood rage and had killed innocent people.
Melinda stood up, legs wobbly but she refused help. She needed to escape this room. William’s study. He was all over this room. There would never be enough passage of time for his presence to be scrubbed out if it. The countless times she’d met him here after frightening dreams. He’d listen. Help. Wipe away tears. Practically cuddle her back into bed and soothe her into sleep. He’d been in love with her a lot longer than he even admitted. Or realized. It was all so obvious now.
“There’s no smoothing this over and pretending it’s not my fault. William’s blood is on my hands. Those people he killed…” that’s all on me too.
“Melinda…” Michael had no words appropriate for this.
“And now I’m going to run away and let the two of you handle it. Like always. Because that’s what I do.” She refused to look at her brothers. Or anyone else. One more look of sympathy, or disgrace, and she’d never dig out of the pit. Perhaps she didn’t deserve to.
Charlie wet his lips. He’d never been so dried out. His voice came out hoarse, but firm, and speaking to everyone, but aimed at his sister.
“Melinda, I already decided you would have nothing to do with carrying out this sentence. If it happens, it will be by my hands. No one else. You cannot live with doing it, and I cannot live with myself if it is not me. There is no debate on this.” He looked at Michael and Mack in a way that meant, no arguing, the choice is made.
Melinda said no more. There was nothing left to say. But she had to get away from them while they planned the rest. She didn’t want to know how it would all go down.
Mack stood to take her leave right after. “Poor kid. Ah hell. She’s no damn kid anymore. God damn it, this is goin’ to kill her. Goin’ to kill us all just a little.”
“I don’t think she will recover from this,” Michael told them all.
Charlie didn’t bother to ask what his brother’s empathic sense was picking up. He didn’t need to hear it. Could not bear to hear it.
“I’ll leave ya to it,” rattled Mack. “Just fill me in later.” She left the study and the mansion.
Pretty near everything that had to be said, and determined, had been. And yet none of the three left were ready to move forward and put the plan into action.
Melinda made it half way up the stairs to her bedroom when she stopped. There were no tears to wipe away. None left to fall at this point. The sadness and guilt swarmed her blood, giving her a shiver. The pit inside herself getting deeper. And deeper. Swallowing her up. Suffocating her. And at the very bottom, in the dredges of that pit something stirred. Seeping into her blood, pushing fire through her veins. A need. A raw craving. For someone to pay for making this happen. For someone to be held responsible for what she was about to lose. For doing this to William.
It was her fault.
His death was her fault.
The chain reaction of events set off by a disastrous decision, by her.
But others had assisted in that chain reaction. Others had made him suffer too.
Eva Jordan… but she was dead.
The Feyk, Stricker, Sir Tinkham Sickereaux, was not. He still lived and breathed when William was about not to. The unfairness of this truth shot fury into her nerves.
With gritted teeth she marched back down the stairs, grabbed a blood pack from the fridge, and barely sensing her own movements, landed in the basement cell in front of Courtney Jessup.
The newly turned vampire was pacing the room. Bored. Agitated. Desperate. Cleaned up and wearing clothes Emily had let her borrow.
Melinda tossed her the blood pack.
She caught it with a lick of her lips.
“Thanks. Wish I didn’t need this stuff. This hunger is… mindboggling.” She ripped it open and took a suck down, relishing in the thick liquid gliding down her throat. Once the initial hunger pain diminished, her vampire senses honed in on something else. Something not in the blood. Something ensnaring the young witch standing in her cell. A vengeful aura hovering around her. A vindictive look in her eye. A strong determination in her jaw.
“If I’m not mistaken, I see revenge boiling in those baby blues.”
Melinda’s gaze tightened.
“I’ve seen that look a few times,” explained Courtney. “Mainly, every time I look in the mirror.”
“I cannot imagine what you’re going through right now,” Melinda expressed directly. “You didn’t ask to become a vampire. Or be yanked out of your life. It must be shocking and frightening to have this done to you without it being your choice.”
“It is.” Truth is truth, no denying it.
“You’ll get your revenge, at least in part, on William. Maybe not by your own hand, but he’s got a death sentence. My brother…” she sucked in. “My brother Charlie is going to carry it out. To make sure this never happens again.”
Courtney set aside the blood pack, appetite dampened.
“But that’s not why you’re here, is it?”
“Not exactly.”
Courtney approached the subject cautiously.
“I find I’m not as angry as I was at first. I’d still take my old life over this one, but it’s not like I had anything to go back to. Not really. Not like I did a couple years ago.”
“Because of Stricker?” confirmed Melinda.
“Yes. He destroyed my reason for living, long before this happened to me.”
“I’ll help you find him,” promised Melinda. “My brothers might not be so willing. Or not willing for me to do this, but I have to. For William. For William as he was.
As I choose to remember him.”
Courtney’s new abilities kicked in. Her ears honing in on the throbbing of Melinda’s heart. The aching flutter that wound around and around itself, tightening. William’s flutter; she still had no control over it when she thought of him.
“You love him,” Courtney stated evenly. “Not in a, he’s family, sort of way.”
“Yes. I love him. Not that it matters now. Not that it ever mattered.” She didn’t explain further. “But I want the Feyk to pay. Not just in revenge for William. Stricker can’t be allowed to do this to anyone else.”
“One thing we both agree on,” hissed Courtney. Her fangs flashed at the idea of taking out Stricker.
There was a noise at the cell door and Melinda twisted her head to see Charlie and Michael standing there. She didn’t care what any of them heard anymore.
“Going to try to stop me?” she grilled her brothers.
Charlie shook his head.
“What he said,” Michael conceded, with a cringe he kept hidden.
Melinda hadn’t expected them to let her seek out her revenge unchallenged.
“Lizzy just informed me she plans on teaching you everything she knows,” Charlie said with a tight grin. “And as hard as it is for me to accept…”
“Or me,” added Michael.
“And in light of everything that’s happened,” continued Charlie. “I agree with you. We do hold you back. And I don’t think we can stop playing big brother. Even right now, I want to lock you up and keep you out of it. I don’t want you to have to deal with what’s coming. I think that’s why I never pushed harder when you locked yourself away. It kept you out of harm’s way. But that is not who we are. And I was wrong.”
“We talk of putting the past behind us,” Michael took over, “But the only way that’s really going to happen is to accept, and learn, and allow ourselves to move forward.”
Vampire Interrupted (Wicked Good Witches Book 8) Page 22
