Key to Redemption

by Talia Gryphon

  “Were they harsh with you?”

  “No . . . more like . . . preoccupied,” she continued. “My parents both had their own interests, their own careers. And I wasn’t a problem child, believe it or not.”

  She grinned up at him and he laughed. They were sitting together on the couch. Gillian was pressed up against the back and arm of the sofa; Aleksei was next to her, just holding her hand, lusciously sprawled on his part of the sofa.

  “I do find that difficult to believe.” At least the sparkle was coming back to his eyes.

  “I bet you do. Anyway, I was alone a lot. We didn’t live near anyone with kids, I was an only child, so I had no one to talk to or process things with. There was a housekeeper who kept up with all the little chores like the laundry and general cleaning.”

  “So you had little responsibility.”

  “No, I had homework, my horses . . . We had a small acreage . . . and I was alone.”

  “I did not know you were an equestrian.” He sounded surprised.

  “I have many skills. You just haven’t discovered all of them yet.”

  He laughed at that. “All part of your mystery and allure, dolcezza.”

  Gill continued, “Yeah, right. Well, part of the family dynamic was that if you fucked up or made a mistake, you were essentially ostracized.”

  “Shunning? In this day and age?” Aleksei was taken aback. “I thought that outside of a few religious groups, Humans did not practice this.”

  “I’m not talking about minor debacles with denting the car fender or bad grades, more like . . . Well, for example . . . I had an uncle who was trying to put his life back together after being a prisoner of war. It was hard for him; he wanted some distance and he wanted to work things out.

  “My father was determined to be involved in his recovery, so he tried to get my uncle a job at a local business. It was a good job, right up his alley for his skills and abilities.”

  “I take it your uncle was not pleased.”

  “Not in the least. He took the offer, basically to shut my father up, instead of just going ahead with his plans. He wound up doing a not-so-great job, leaving the company and then finally sharing that he wanted to be a police officer. Dad wasn’t too happy about it and said so.

  “What we didn’t know was that my uncle had tried to tell my dad what kind of help he wanted—for tuition, so he could get his degree and be a cop—but it was the wrong choice, in my father’s opinion. He never approved of my uncle’s choices. It sort of started a family feud.

  “My uncle went on to become an outstanding police officer, got married and carved a good life for himself and his family out of the shambles he had been in. When he tried to reestablish contact, my dad cut him off.”

  “So you lost contact with your uncle.”

  “Yes, but so did a lot of others who took my father’s side in the argument. No one was allowed to discuss it or even bring it up. I thought the whole thing was stupid.”

  “Family arguments usually are.” Aleksei sighed.

  “Yup. But the point is that anyone who countered my father’s position was booted out of the family circle. No explanations, no railing and ranting; they were just gone. It happened with my grandfather, my cousins, and I was scared it would happen to me.”

  “And you believe that if you ask for help, you are weak . . . because . . . ?” Aleksei was trying to keep her on topic.

  “I just don’t want to let anyone down . . . have you think less of me because I asked for help or for the wrong help. It sort of undermines my credibility, don’t you think?”

  Aleksei studied her face, reaching out his hand to caress her cheek and cup her chin before he spoke. “What I believe is that the only person you are letting down is yourself.”

  “Maybe . . . but when I decided to join the service, go to college on the GI bill, it did happen. I was told I was making a mistake, and not to expect any help from my family in the future. So far I haven’t.”

  “That is terrible!” Aleksei was outraged. “How can a parent cut off a child because of their choices?”

  “Aleksei, you had a great family. A wonderful warm family who loved each other openly, supported each other completely. Not everyone is lucky enough to have that dynamic. Some of us just have a comfortable living in a nice neighborhood with decent people for parents who are emotionally barricaded.

  “I’m not bitching, my folks are good people. They just didn’t know how to show it in the right way. Or at least in the way that I would have liked. It doesn’t make them bad.”

  “I understand, piccola, but it also does not make them right. You needed to be shown love, not just lauded for your accomplishments, or punished because of what was in your heart.” He watched as emotions flickered across her face. He could feel her turmoil through their link but he wouldn’t interfere or pry.

  “When I joined the Marines and then the IPPA, I got a family, Aleksei. Those people are my friends, yes, but they’re more than that. They’re all I’ve got.”

  He pulled her to him, tucking her against his chest and under his shoulder. “Not all you have, innamorata. You do have me.”

  She relaxed against him after a moment, thinking about that. “Yes, I guess I do. Now I have to decide what to do with you.”

  Aleksei chuckled and pulled her up so he might kiss her. “I have an idea.”

  They kissed and he thought. He thought about what she’d said. Growing up in a family where no one paid attention unless you did something amazing or wrong . . . love being measured out in increments . . . no wonder she was so barricaded. They would have to work on that.

  “Gillian . . .”

  “Mmmm-hmmm?”

  “Gillian, if you let me, I would like to help you get over these bad feelings about Jack.”

  Silence.

  Crickets.

  “Gillian?”

  “How, Aleksei? I keep going over it in my mind. No matter how I slice it, it is still my fault.”

  “No, angela, it was not. Nor was how you handled it. I want to take you to the village, revisit the place where you confronted each other. Maybe that will chase your demons away.”

  “It won’t work.”

  “It might.”

  “All right, I’ll try.”

  CHAPTER 18

  ALEKSEI arranged with Pavel, Kimber, Helmut and Trocar to accompany him in taking Gillian to the village. Jenna and Tanis were off getting acquainted again, but Gillian needed a night out. It would be good to finally have her demons about Jack exorcised. The rest of them were going to help support her and she was going to let them. Gah! Her stomach was in knots over the idea.

  He found her in the library, poring over some Internet documents that reported recent attacks on Humans by Paramortals. They were listed by country, crime and alleged attacker.

  There was starting to be some pressure on all law enforcement, mental health professionals and even mercenaries to form a cooperative to share information and start second-guessing the attacks. Gillian was swearing under her breath, understanding that the tactical problems involved in such a measure would be insurmountable.

  Another article announced that a few televangelists of varying denominations were reiterating their objections to legalizing the Paramortal community in general. They dubbed anything not Human to be godless creations of evil and were calling for revolution. There were the predictable countering broadcasts from several others, insisting that all were divinely created creatures and we were better coexisting than fighting each other.

  Gillian wished they’d all stop proselytizing and realize everyone had to inhabit the same space together, like it or not. It was better to live peaceably and with everything out in the open than looking over your shoulder every moment, being afraid of shadows in the darkness. Frowning at the screen, she looked up when Aleksei spoke.

  “Come, piccola, be with your escorts for the evening.” He’d held out his hand and she took it shyly.

  Damn, she thought.
They all looked like a smorgasbord for Sex on a Stick. Aleksei was breathtaking. He wore his customary black boots but the deep burgundy velvet of his pants and jacket were different. A black shirt with a black lace spill was left open down to the middle of his impressive chest. The colors set off the arctic gray of his eyes. His black hair was loose and spilled over his shoulders in soft waves.

  Helmut was out of his usual tweed for once. He was tall enough that Daed had been able to contribute to his evening wardrobe. The dove gray European-cut suit he wore brought out the intense blue of his eyes, toning down his ruddy complexion and the red in his sandy hair. His shirt was blinding white, fitted and elegant. Platinum cufflinks sparkled at his wrists and Italian leather loafers graced his feet. Since Helmut was more slender than Daed, the clothes were a little loose on him, but he looked splendid nonetheless.

  Trocar was out of the one-piece black thing he generally wore and looked resplendent in glossy dark Aegean blue leather pants and matching boots. A surprising silvery blue shirred tunic, made from some obscure cave spider’s web, molded over the obsidian muscles in his upper body but managed not to conflict with his shimmering white crystalline hair. Iridescent eyes twinkled at her and he bowed formally.

  Perrin glided down the hallway to join them. Aleksei had invited him, thinking it would be good for the masked man to get out with a group of friends for one night. The French-man would be leaving within a day or two, and everyone wanted to give him a nice send-off. As it was, he quite took everyone’s breath away with his entrance.

  Tailored, flat-front black pants fit his long spectacular legs like a glove. He wore his boots underneath, the bottoms of the material brushed over the shining leather. A black cut-away tailed jacket fit his slender but nicely muscled upper body to perfection. The high-collared white shirt was mostly behind an expensive embroidered vest. His cravat was gold, matching the needlework on the vest and the flecks of gold in his eyes.

  Still masked, but this time it didn’t distract from the overall picture but seemed more part of him. The perfect left side of his face turned toward Gillian as she took in his gleaming hair; tonight he had groomed it straight back so as not to detract from the mask or the perfect side. The slight curl at the ends brushed his collar, contrasting the black against the white.

  No gloves. Interesting. Perrin might just be permanently out of his shell. Shorter and lighter built than Aleksei, he was as tall as Trocar and had the same sort of “put together right” finished look as the Dark Elf. There was no denying there was hard muscle under either of their clothing.

  Seeing the approval in her eyes, Perrin said, “Thank you,” in his exquisite voice. “You are lovely tonight, ma chérie.”

  Aleksei and Trocar nodded in agreement. Gillian moved to take Aleksei’s arm and Perrin’s hand. Trocar and Helmut wouldn’t be offended. Both preferred walking unencumbered by anything or anyone.

  Kimber bounced down the stairs in an adorable, skintight, denim outfit. The pants fit her like a glove, as did the golden, sparkly vest and tailored jacket. Girlfriend was tall but wore four-inch gold stiletto heels. You had to admire confidence like that.

  Moving out, Pavel fell in step beside them, his arm around Kimber’s waist, looking like he’d raided Aleksei’s or Tanis’s closet. The Lycanthrope was dressed in brown leather pants and a matching leather jacket, plus an old-world ivory silk shirt. He looked yummy, and Kimber’s leer made certain he knew it.

  Gillian did look good. She’d traded in her usual casual attire for something a little flashier. Her tunic was one Trocar had given her years before. It was forest green and made from a soft pettable silky Elven fabric. Tight black pants curved over her legs and her boots were on display. Black crinkled pigskin leather, they resembled pirate boots, folded over beneath her knee. Her hair was down for a change and picked up every ray of light.

  Together, they all walked to the parking area and squeezed into Gillian’s car. She drove, preferring her own hand on the wheel. As they approached the village, she stiffened and gripped the steering wheel tightly as she pulled over into the first side street she could find and parked.

  Piling out of the car, Aleksei, Pavel, Helmut, Kimber and Trocar fanned out a little, sensing their surroundings for any danger. Perrin came to offer his hand and waited until she considered for a moment before she took it. He moved with a Sidhe’s grace, fluid and controlled but far from delicate.

  Dressed in the black formal attire, which complemented his raven hair and the one exposed ebony eyebrow, Perrin looked sensual, masculine and a little dangerous, the mask lending to his mystery and beauty. He led her slowly from the car, walking carefully, turning to make sure she wasn’t going to balk.

  Soon, Gillian dropped his hand and moved away, looking up and around at the streets, deliberately walking to the place where she’d confronted the Ripper and stopping there, rubbing her upper arms as if a sudden chill gripped her. Aleksei was behind her in an instant, his arms going around her, locking her back against him. This was one thing he could give her that she could accept—his support.

  “Now, piccola, we will all face this together.”

  She felt something coalesce around her . . . strong, good, warm feelings . . . glamour. This wouldn’t do.

  “Perrin, stop it. I need to feel this with my senses open like they were that night,” Gillian ordered him.

  He complied but stayed close. The only reason she had agreed to bringing him along was to help him feel incorporated in a busy social setting outside the castle grounds.

  After they confronted her feelings about Jack, the plan was for everyone to stop by the coffee shop or the bar at the Inn for singing, tale telling and general fun. Gill hoped that his self-assurance would receive a final push from being included as their guest, knowing he was accepted publicly and welcomed, so he could leave with confidence.

  She’d argued with Helmut about it at first. He wanted her to go ahead with it; she disagreed, thinking it was crossing a therapeutic line. After a call to her former mentor, Dr. Cassiopeia Delphi, a Master Vampire Ph.D., and Director of the Miller-Jackson Center for Intimacy, who also encouraged her to follow it through, Gillian had relented.

  Cassiopeia had pointed out that it would be in his best interest to empower him a little outside his safety net. It cost her nothing except a moment of vulnerability at the beginning of the evening and would give him so much more overall than she would relinquish. Gill agreed but had no intention of involving Perrin as anything but an observer in her moment of facing her fears. She didn’t want to encourage his protective feelings toward her any further than he’d already imagined them.

  Aleksei moved to flank her on the left as Trocar did on the right. Helmut was there to offer any therapeutic support but knew Gillian wanted to work through this on her own. Pavel and Kimber stayed behind her and the Grael near Perrin. All eyes were turned on her, expecting what, they didn’t know. They were just there if she needed them.

  “Perhaps if you talked about your encounter with him, piccola ,” Aleksei suggested, taking her hand in his own. “Tell us what happened, how it occurred.”

  “How did you happen to find him before we did, Gillyflower?” Trocar suddenly asked, realizing that she wasn’t going to come to terms with it easily.

  No matter, he could help, and he had an idea just how to do that. Piss her off, let her get good and mad at something, banish her own demons.

  “There were three of you out here alone, all of you bait. I was following you, then Pavel veered off on the trail so I chose to follow him, believing that he would lead me to Jack before you.”

  “You wanted to kill him yourself,” Gillian said absently. “So did I, so I made sure he found me first.”

  Perrin was stunned. Aleksei had been filling him in on the various varieties of Paramortal, Vampires and Jack in particular since that had been whom Gillian had been hunting. She could have been killed, nearly was killed in fact. She knew better but she had set herself up.

&nb
sp; “Gillian,” Perrin said softly when she didn’t continue to speak, “what did you do?”

  “Give her a moment, Perrin. Leave her to her thoughts.” Aleksei slid his arm over her shoulder and pulled her into the shelter of his own body.

  Kimber had a vague idea of where Trocar was going with this and chimed in, “Look, you people need to leave her alone. She will deal with this in her own way.”

  Trocar ignored the suggestion, and put his hand on his former Captain’s shoulder. “I believe you said that you verbally sparred with him . . . before you knew who and what he was, of course. I recall you and him taunting each other in France as well. Did he truly unnerve you that badly? More than every other monster I have seen you face?”

  “Careful, Trocar.” Helmut’s soft voice carried on the night air. “Don’t push her faster than she is willing to go. Remember, Gillian did nothing wrong. All bets are off when a life is at stake. She did what she had to do.”

  Gillian bit her lip, looking anywhere but at her friends. She wasn’t necessarily proud of what she’d done; it had been an unpleasant necessity to rescue her friend. As it was, she was struggling with her choices, actions and decisions of that night. All of it had gone against everything she knew or had been taught.

  For the first time that she could remember, she’d acted solely by relying on others to come and save the day. That wasn’t like her. She handled things herself, never second-guessed her decisions. Great. Now she knew what was dogging her ass. It was herself.

  “He didn’t unnerve me, Trocar.” Gillian finally turned to him. “It was just that in order to find him, to get to Jenna . . . I had to go against things I knew. Things that I . . . I had to compromise who I was to get to him. I’m not proud of it, but I did it.”

  “Of course, Petal, keep talking and you will convince yourself eventually.” Trocar knew he was treading dangerous ground, antagonizing her. Truth was, he was afraid for her, for the first time in their long friendship. She had to pull out of this or she’d never trust her own judgment again.