Key to Redemption

by Talia Gryphon

  Daed and Helmut were, as she predicted, royally pissed off, mostly at her. Daed had run upstairs, then returned with his proverbial doctor’s little black bag with syringes of wonderful substances. After bandaging their various wounds, giving injections when needed for pain, Daed finally got to her own injuries.

  “C’mere, darlin. Let’s see how badly you’re hurt.” His voice dripped Southern charm but his black eyes were shooting sparks. That was a very bad sign.

  Helmut was angrier with her than she’d ever seen him about her organization of a rescue effort without more backup and planning. “I understand how you couldn’t have known about Perrin’s ability, Gillian. Hell, even he didn’t know; but afterward, after everything had stopped, especially with Tuuli’s and Samuel’s transformation to consider, you should have gotten myself or Daed to process through everything before you went out to investigate further. You could have been killed!”

  He was pacing and slapped the back of the couch opposite her in frustration. “Goddammit, we can’t afford to lose you at the IPPA! I can’t afford to lose you!” Pausing a moment, he looked around the room. “We can’t lose any of you.”

  Gillian let him yell at her, getting it out of his system. When he stopped to take a breath, she took her chance at an explanation. “We were rescuing Jenna, Helmut. There wasn’t time for a caucus on the situation and you guys were sleeping,” Gill said tiredly.

  “Look, I am well aware that you all are entitled to an apology for me and Tanis fucking up and not checking in after Jack was . . . killed. To tell you the truth, I simply didn’t think about it. I’m trying to adjust to a lot of things too. Direct mental communication isn’t something I normally do on a daily basis.” Looking around, she could see that she had everyone’s attention. Oh boy. That wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

  “But that isn’t an excuse,” she continued. “I don’t know why Tanis didn’t think of it either, except he was really happy that Jenna was still alive and that distracted him. Anyway, I am sorry for worrying everybody here and I am sure Tanis won’t mind me offering an apology for him either.”

  Helmut had stopped pacing and was looking at her with eyes that were softer than they had been a few moments before. Even Daed was looking a little less pissed off. At least he’d stopped jerking on the bandage he was applying to the sprained ankle they’d found she had after the adrenaline rush wore off.

  Encouraged, she went on, “I am a soldier as much as I am a psychologist. Being one doesn’t negate being the other. I didn’t get involved in all this Fang Land bullshit by choice but I am involved; we all are.”

  Turning to Daed, who was injecting anesthetic in her leg in preparation for sewing it up, she pointed out, “You called on me to be a soldier again, not too long ago. Said that the Paramortals needed better publicity, and even blackmailed me into going.

  “This isn’t any different. I couldn’t sit by and let Jenna die because of protocol and rules and decorum. There wasn’t time. Be mad at me all you want but I would do the same thing again, for any of you.” She looked around at the assembled faces. Daed had the grace to look sheepish, and Helmut was starting to look embarrassed about his rant.

  “I am a good psychologist, but I am also a good soldier. Let me be who I am. I know when to do either job. Trust me to know the difference and stop getting pissed off at me when my current events list doesn’t exactly match yours or because I didn’t check with someone first.”

  There. She’d made her point. Gillian watched as Daed finished stitching up her leg. When his eyes rose to meet hers, they were softer, twinkling, and he smiled a real smile.

  “You know, I tend to forget, when I’m away from you for a while, just how big a pain in the ass you are, girl.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m a competent pain in the ass, which is why you keep me around,” Gillian growled back.

  Helmut laughed, making everyone jump. “Gillian, when you came into our program to help put Paramortal psychology on everyone’s radar, I said to myself, ‘That little girl is going to shake up what has been a rather stodgy occupation and breathe some real life into this profession.’ I knew what we were getting when we took you on.”

  “Then quit bitching about it if you know so goddamn much.” She glared at him, arms folded across her chest as Daed put the final bandages on her leg.

  “I didn’t say I was sorry we took you, did I?” Now it was Helmut’s turn to glare at her, then he softened again, coming around to sit next to her on the couch.

  “We are all still learning new things about this job and our clientele. There is so much we collectively don’t know about so many of the Paramortals we try to help. I am glad that you’re here, that you’re willing and able to do every part of the business so well.”

  He took the hand that Perrin wasn’t holding. “I am sorry, Gillian. I was angry because I was worried and afraid for you, as were we all, but it’s because we all care, don’t you see that? You are so strong, so capable, yet you’re this lovely looking little thing that everyone wants to take—”

  Gill interrupted him. “I know you are not about to say anything stupid like ‘take care of,’ because that would really piss me off right now.” She took her hand back.

  Perrin laughed behind her, a rich and lovely sound. “Allow me, Dr. Gerhardt.” He turned farther on the sofa arm to face Gillian. “You are a small, lovely, spirited woman that everyone wants to take . . .”

  “Knock it off, Perrin.” Gillian glowered at him.

  “. . . in their arms and protect.” Perrin smiled warmly at her, finishing his sentence.

  “Maybe . . . take you to task?” That was from Jenna, who was grinning like a fiend, bandages on both wrists and around her chest. Fuck you, Jenna.

  “Under their wing?” Thank you, Tuuli. Gillian shot her a beaming smile.

  “Out behind the proverbial barn?” Double fuck you, Kimber. Her friend’s left arm was in a sling.

  Gill flipped her off, bringing peals of laughter from everyone. Pavel was making god-awful noises in his Werewolf throat as he tried to laugh from where he lay on the rug in front of her. Gill booted him in the ribs with her unbandaged foot, and he huffed at her but didn’t move.

  “Over their knee?” Daed was sitting much too close to make smart-assed remarks like that so she shoved him over backward with her good foot.

  “You guys are assholes,” Gill griped under their good-natured teasing.

  He rose, laughing to shake his finger at her. “Now, now, sweet cakes, that’s just not neighborly. Besides, a friendly little ass-whuppin’ never hurt anyone.” Sometimes Daed was a Southern-fried jackass. Too bad everyone was now laughing themselves sick.

  Helmut was beside himself. “Oh, I would truly pay to see something like that.” More gales of laughter from everyone. This was just getting better and better. What happened to being a competent professional and a Marine? Where was her gun anyway?

  Gillian had the decency to blush and covered her face with her hands. “I am in hell. Testosterone hell.”

  Perrin slipped down beside her on the couch, gathering her into his arms and hugging her close. “Non, ma chérie.”

  “No, sweetheart,” he said in French, stroking the top of her head. “You are with people who care about you and who will take care of you, as you take care of us. That is why we tease you so brutally.”

  She let him hold her, letting herself, for the moment, enjoy feeling sheltered, hearing the laughter of her little group subside into conversation and more giggling. A mixture of sandalwood, cedar and candle smoke was what Perrin smelled like. His scent wasn’t quite as comforting as Aleksei’s, but it was masculine and clean.

  Without thinking, she opened her mind to the Vampire, who answered her unspoken need to know that he was all right and not mad at her. “You are safe and alive, that is all that matters. I am proud of you despite being angry that you were injured. Let Perrin give you comfort as I cannot be with you. Rest and recover. I will see you this evening.
Buona sera, piccola.”

  He cut off the contact just as quickly, sounding tired. She knew he was with Tanis in the castle’s crypt. They would rest safely shielded from the day, hopefully adding another victory in Tanis’s effort to free himself of Dracula’s taint.

  Gill shuddered in Perrin’s arms, the events of the long night finally catching up with her. Her head hurt, her face definitely hurt. The only reason her leg didn’t hurt was that Daed had shot it full of painkillers before he stitched the slash that Jack had put there. She felt like shit and was beginning to feel sorry for herself. She just wanted to sleep.

  Perrin felt her tremble. He shifted a little, his fingertips tilting her chin up so she could look at him. Gillian pushed his hand away but not before he noticed rings of exhaustion around her eyes.

  “I’m tired, I hurt and I want to sleep. Let me go, Perrin.” It was a whispered plea.

  “Never,” he said softly. “Now behave yourself and let me take care of you.” Without giving her a chance to protest, he pulled her farther onto his lap, then rose with her cradled in his arms.

  “Put me down, goddammit, I can walk!” Gillian fairly snarled at him, embarrassed at being carried in front of everyone but a little grateful since her back was killing her.

  “Now, baby, don’t you give that young man any trouble or I’ll have to fetch a switch, ya hear?” Daed’s smoky voice called to her. He’d just made the top of her “he needs killing” list.

  “She will not,” Perrin assured him, not pausing in his stride, carrying her toward the staircase. “She is overtired and needs a hot bath and sleep. I will see to it that she gets some rest.”

  “Perrin, I swear by all that is holy . . .” Gillian said through her clenched teeth.

  “Doctor, you need to heal thyself.” Perrin smiled, scolding her gently as he walked up the stairs. “If any of us were in your condition, you would insist on helping. Do not try my patience tonight, mademoiselle, you are going to do exactly what is best for you. Rest and heal.”

  “Fine.”

  “I mean it, Gillian. Now cooperate.” The authoritarian music teacher was back as he set her on her feet in her room and stood looking down at her, that secret smile ghosting across his features.

  “Take off what is left of your clothing and get your robe. I will draw you a hot bath, then get you some tea while you sit in the tub.”

  At her affronted look, he laughed. “You are hurt, Gillian. There is no way I would look on you with desire tonight. Get ready for your bath.” He smoothly turned and left her to change.

  Therapy. He is doing well in his therapy, she reminded herself, quashing down her resentment over her vulnerable position of the moment.

  Muttering about chauvinistic attitudes in survival situations and about males in general, she tore the shirt and boots off, throwing them in a corner. She got her robe on and went into the bathroom, where Perrin waited by the tub, still fully dressed, making sure the water wasn’t too hot.

  “Get in, bébé,” he told her, holding her robe so that she could slip out of it and into the heated water. She winced when the heat hit her numerous cuts and abrasions. Perrin reached over, got a bag from the sink, extracted a small glass vial, then poured some of the contents into the tub. It helped immediately and the stinging went away.

  “Thanks, what’s in that?” Gillian asked, indicating the vial.

  “You do not think all of my time was spent by my lake mooning over singers and writing music, do you?” he teased her gently, going down on one knee by the tub and dipping a washcloth into the healing water. “I studied some Fey magic after I found out about my heritage.” Gently, he washed her face and split lip, his touch butterfly light as always, completely attentive to her possible pain.

  Gillian watched him. Perrin gained confidence when he was able to assert himself a little. Probably owing to the Gargoyle genes. They were an aggressor species. Made sense.

  He was completely in control of the situation at the moment and enjoying himself thoroughly. It wasn’t at her expense; it was for her that he was doing it.

  The mental lightbulb flashed and her tired brain understood now. He was cracking out of his victim chrysalis and becoming what he was supposed to be. Perrin was definitely finding himself.

  Later, after he’d gotten her some tea and lit candles with calming aromatic scents, he dried her off, then dressed her in one of her oversize T-shirts. She had given up objecting to his pampering her. When he tucked her into the great bed, she surprised herself by asking him to stay.

  A myriad of emotions crossed the half of his face that she could see. The mask stared at her, stark and cold, but the living flesh of his perfect left profile finally stabilized into a soft smile.

  “Of course, mon amour, as you wish.”

  He was so perfect, so correct in his movements and actions. Every gesture and step was like watching a dance as he moved fluidly to recline next to her on top of the covers when she scooted over to give him room.

  Looking at his raven black hair, always so perfectly tousled, she reached up to handle its texture, entranced by the silky feel of his curls. Absently, her fingers continued to trace the angle of his jaw and his perfect mouth.

  Perrin caught her hand, kissed it gently, his eyes holding hers. “None of that, ma femme. You need to sleep,” he admonished her lightly.

  Gillian stared at him. “Cut it out, Perrin. I really hate that.”

  Chuckling, he drew her just a bit closer, then stroked her damp hair until she relaxed against the pillow. He longed to gather her in his arms but she would never allow that.

  “Good night, Perrin,” came her soft, sleepy voice.

  “Bon soir, mon amour,” he said quietly in return, taking in her scent of clover and snow-tipped meadows.

  Perrin stayed with her long after he could have left. He slept lightly in the chair, having moved from the bed once Gillian was asleep. He startled at every movement, every sound she made. When she cried out angrily during her rest and struggled against the covers, he went to stand by the bed, whispering in French, singing softly as she settled back into sleep, never waking to know the dreams that tormented her.

  Affectionately, he smoothed her hair back when she snuggled deeper into the blankets. He loved her hair, the way it shimmered in the candlelight. He wished he could simply look into her eyes for a while, see the compassion and stalwart courage there. After the events of this night, he knew those lovely eyes, so green and warm, had looked upon horrors that he could not imagine; did not want to imagine.

  Delicately, he traced the edges of her face, lingering over the bruised jaw and the cut on her lip. The protective and aggressive instincts of both an adult male Gargoyle and Sidhe reared their heads knowing that monster had struck her.

  She had brought him out of the darkness of loneliness, given him hope, gave him back his pride, made him believe that he might actually have a real life outside of his marginal existence.

  Perrin resolved that he wouldn’t dishonor her effort by exposing to her the level of his interest, the depth of his heart. She was right. He wasn’t ready; for her, for anyone. He wasn’t whole yet but he was less fragmented than he had ever been in his life. Gillian and he still had some work to do, more of his issues to resolve. He understood her better now. She was a soul healer, just as the Sidhe had said.

  “ ‘Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, / Tears from the depth of some divine despair / Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, / In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, / And thinking of the days that are no more.’ ” He quoted Alfred, Lord Tennyson quietly to her, kissing her forehead then returning to his chair. One happy tear trailed down his unblemished cheek, sparkling in the candlelight. Aleksei was a lucky man, er, Vampire.

  CHAPTER 17

  “MMMMMM, that feels wonderful,” Gillian sighed, stretching like a cat and wriggling a little in emphasis as the strikingly handsome, naked man massaged her back and shoulders, getting the kinks from her fencing pra
ctice out. They were working on his skills as usual, but she was reaping the benefits of his determination to be good at everything related to being devoted to women.

  A smile quirked his gorgeous mouth, the skin around his eyes were shadowed by the mask he wore, but she could see that skin crinkling in mirth at her responses. He enjoyed doing something for her for a change.

  The upper half of his perfect face was covered by a black leather stylized mask, formed to fit his features; covering every part of the disfigurement his mixed parentage had given him. Most days he wore only the white partial mask on his disfigured right side. Today he wore the black, making him look like a roguish French Lone Ranger.

  Gillian said it was for him to know when he trusted her enough to take it off. It was part of his therapy. She was still waiting several weeks later.

  Perrin continued his ministrations on his lovely sex therapist. Gillian had been dedicated, patient and understanding with him. Helping him make more progress both in sexual situations and in socialization than he’d ever thought possible.

  He’d been a shy, trembling, suicidally depressed wreck of a male when he’d first come there to the Rachlav Institute of Paramortal Healing, sponsored ever so lushly by Aleksei Rachlav.

  Gillian’s kindness and abilities with her natural empathy had seen him through the worst of it. She’d taken him from someone too terrified to meet another’s gaze for fear of their reaction to a confident man who could initiate sex or a conversation with equal ease and grace.

  “A little lower and to the left,” came Gillian’s muffled voice from the pillow. She shifted her hips, pushing her cute and curvy bottom against his thigh. “Or do I have to fuck you blind before I get a decent massage?” She was teasing him.