Captured By The Warriors

by Daniella Wright

  “We cannot have strangers in this house,” I said, ignoring her question.

  “Jackie’s not a stranger,” Mary said, tears in her eyes.

  “No friends overnight,” I said, making a chopping motion with my hand. “It’s non-negotiable.”

  “It’s not fair to keep Mary from having normal interactions with other children,” Jennifer said. “She’s already so isolated.”

  “That’s the way it is,” I snapped. “These are the terms of your employment here. You signed a non-disclosure agreement that you would bring no one here.”

  “I understand,” Jennifer looked shocked, but kept her voice modulated and calm. I turned and stormed out of the room, mostly angry with myself. Behind me, I could hear Mary’s heartbroken sobs. It seemed that even when I was in my human form, I was a monster as well.

  Chapter Eight

  I had received permission from Michael to take Mary to church the next day prior to his meltdown, so I figured that it was still permissible. It was wonderful to be around people, and the sermon was simple and beautiful. When I came out of the building, Mary detached herself from the Sunday school group, which was congregated by one of the long folding tables filled with food for the picnic.

  “Hi sweetheart,” I said, kneeling down and giving her a hug. “Did you have fun?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I colored a fish.”

  “Good. Shall we get something to eat?” Mary nodded. We headed over toward the tables, where people were beginning to line up.

  “Hey! You made it,” Damien said, coming up beside me. He was dressed in a black oxford shirt, the top buttons undone to show off some skin. I could feel my adrenaline kick into overdrive at the sight of him.

  “Yeah,” I replied.

  “So which dish is yours?” he asked, looking about.

  “What?”

  “It’s a potluck,” he replied, and I flushed red, my embarrassment emblazoned across my face.

  “Oh no,” I said. “I had no idea. We should leave.” I glanced over at Mary, who was speaking happily with a group of little girls. She would be crushed to have to go.

  “Ah, don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t tell anybody.” I smiled appreciatively.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I just had no idea.” We got our food, the women and girls who were serving making a huge deal out of helping Damien. He looked at me and smiled awkwardly. I laughed as I filled a plate for Mary, who was still talking with the other little girls. Damien and I found a place to sit on the grass beneath a large, gnarled oak.

  “So, where have you traveled besides Iceland?” I asked him.

  “Well, before Iceland, I lived in Romania for a while doing some research in the town where Van Helsing was reported to live.”

  “Van Helsing?”

  “You know, the vampire hunter?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, taking a bite of potato salad.

  “He was a fascinating figure,” Damien explained. “He reportedly killed Vlad the Impaler in his own castle.”

  “Really?”

  “What, you don’t believe in the paranormal?” he asked me, giving me a devilishly handsome grin.

  “No,” I replied, smiling back. “Are you afraid of being eaten by something that goes bump in the night?”

  “Oh, horribly,” he replied. “I was hoping to learn a trick or two from Van Helsing’s ghost.”

  “Didn’t you?” I was flirting, and I didn’t care who saw.

  “He was decidedly quiet.” We laughed, and began to discuss other things. Eventually, Mary grew hungry and came for her plate, grabbing it and taking it with her to sit with the other girls. I was so happy that she was making friends. The sun began to shift into its late afternoon glow, and people began to clean up.

  “Well, I better get Mary and head back,” I said.

  “I should probably help with the cleanup,” Damien said, and then paused. “You wouldn’t be interested in having dinner with me sometime soon, would you?” My heart fluttered excitedly.

  “I would love to, but unfortunately, I have to be at home in case Mary needs me during the night. Lunch, maybe?” An emotion flickered briefly across his face—annoyance? Anger? I couldn’t tell.

  “Okay,” he said, so chipperly that I felt that I must have imagined it. “Let me get your digits.” He took out his iPhone, tapping in my name. I recited my number to him.

  “Okay. I’ll send you a text so you have mine,” he said, smiling widely. My heart was beating nervously; as though I were encountering a predator instead of a future date.

  Chapter Nine

  Two days after my outburst at lunch, I was having breakfast with Jennifer and Mary, trying to atone. All three of us were silent, the sound of chewing permeating the kitchen.

  “So how was church yesterday?” I asked hesitantly.

  “It was lovely,” Jennifer said.

  “Did you make any friends?” I asked Mary. She nodded, keeping her gaze on her cereal bowl. I felt the inappropriateness of my question. The silence stretched out between us again.

  “If I needed to take a night off,” Jennifer began. “What would I need to do?”

  “Why would you need to take a night off?” I asked.

  “Just asking,” she said. “Just, in general.” She was keeping her gaze intentionally on her breakfast. She was nervous, cagey. I wondered what this was about.

  “The most important terms of your contract are that you are able to be here with Mary at night. It would take an emergency of the most dire circumstances—an illness, or a death in your family to change that. If you weren’t here, I would need to bring in someone else on an emergency basis to watch Mary at night.” She said nothing, merely nodded and continued eating.

  “If you need to take a short trip, I’m sure Soraya can watch Mary for a few hours,” I said.

  “Okay,” Jennifer replied. I wanted to know why she was asking. Where would she go for a night? Was there something in Ashford? Had she met someone? The thought made me freeze. I felt, I realized, jealous.

  “Did you meet friends at church, as well?” I asked her, not really wanting to know, but not being able to bear the suspense.

  “I met a few people,” she said vaguely.

  “Are there even places to go out in Ashford?”

  “Not really,” Jennifer replied. I could think of nothing further in this line of questioning that wouldn’t be a straight up interrogation. I could feel all of my actions pushing both Jennifer and my niece farther away from me. It was both a relief and agony at the same time. Jennifer inhaled sharply. I looked up to find her gaze on the small television set in the kitchen.

  Emblazoned across the screen in front of the news reporter was the headline: Woman Found Dead, Mauled by Large Animal. My heart stopped. I knew that it wasn’t my doing this time. I had spent the entirety of the night before throwing my large weight at the rebar. Mercifully, it had held, and I had awoken that morning, slightly bruised, but otherwise guilt-free. This time, it had been my nemesis—the other one, the one who had bitten me, infecting me with this curse. My hands automatically clenched. He had killed. He had taken away any sense of normalcy I would ever experience. But he had taken away a woman’s life. He had gone too far. I needed to find out who he was.

  He had disappeared for a long while after I had been turned, returning to the area infrequently. I had no idea who he was, and I often wondered if maybe, he was just better at keeping himself contained. I had reasoned this away. He went elsewhere to hunt, returning here for some unknown reason. I needed to step up my efforts to find him and to kill him before he did any more harm.

  A photograph of the woman who had been killed was placed on the screen—her high school yearbook photo. Jennifer gasped.

  “She looks like you,” Mary pointed out in a small voice. The woman killed had that same brown hair, warm eyes, and bright smile that Jennifer did. She even had a similarly shaped face. They could have been sisters. I grabbed the remote, hastily changing
the channel.

  Chapter Ten

  Over the next week, Damien texted me throughout the day. They were frequent, sweet texts, asking me about Mary, and how my day was going. They would always abruptly stop as soon as it got dark. It was jarring. I wondered if it was because he was going out with other women from the town. They all obviously had a thing for him, and it was not like we were in a committed relationship…yet. On Wednesday afternoon, he even called.

  “Hey pretty lady,” he said when I answered, and I could tell that he was smiling by the tone of his voice.

  “Hey yourself,” I replied. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing much. Just thinking about you.”

  “Only good thoughts, I hope.”

  “Oh, yes, very good.” He paused. I wondered what else he would have to say. Damien’s conversation was never deep. He lacked anything beneath the surface, I had realized, which was very strange for a writer.

  “Do you have time for our lunch date, by any chance?” he asked me.

  “I can’t,” I replied. “I have a complicated math lesson to get through with Mary today. She’s having a little bit of a tricky time with this one.”

  “Agh. We’ve been trying for days,” he complained. “You must be playing hard to get.”

  “Nah. I just have a demanding job,” I reasoned. “You’re the one with flexibility, and yet you didn’t seem to have the time when I was free on Tuesday.”

  “Touché.” He sighed.

  “I’ll see you in church,” I offered.

  “Yep.”

  “Okay,” I said. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

  “Yeah, yours too.” He said it with a startling lack of emotion. As the call disconnected, I thought about Michael. He seemed to always make time to have at least one meal a day with Mary, even if he was slightly distant. He was always there, attempting some sort of communication. I chastised myself for comparing my boss with my supposed and stagnating romantic fling. One did not date the boss. Especially if one was the nanny.

  On Sunday, I had just finished pulling my hair back into a neat ponytail. I was wearing a lilac-colored sundress and a pearl necklace from my grandmother. I exited my ensuite bathroom, on my way to help Mary prepare. When I opened the door to my bedroom, Michael was standing in the hallway, his hand raised as though he were about to knock on the door.

  “Oh,” I said. “Hello.” He looked me up and down, and smiled nervously.

  “I…I was wondering if I could join the two of you,” he said hesitantly.

  “Sure,” I said. He nodded.

  “Excellent,” he turned. “I’ll get the car.”

  “Okay,” I said. I was surprised. I was also nervous—how would he react to my slowly budding relationship with Damien?

  I found myself squirming a little in the passenger seat of the Camaro—Michael’s car of choice, as he drove us in to Ashford. He seemed communicative, for once, and even Mary was talking.

  “I’ll introduce you to Jackie,” she told him. “She’s my best friend.”

  “Oh, really?” Michael asked.

  “Yeah. We both have pink tutus,” Mary said. “You’ll really like her.” When I looked over at Michael, I noticed a small smile on his face.

  “What about the church?” Michael asked her.

  “It’s kind of small,” she admitted. “Smaller than the one I used to go to…but it’s nice. The people are nice. You’ll like them.”

  We pulled in, and I stopped by one of the folding tables to drop off the pasta salad that I had brought for the lunch after the service. Michael met me by the door, having dropped Mary off at the Sunday school classroom. He opened the door, gesturing for me to walk in.

  “Thanks,” I whispered. He nodded. We were a little late, so we sat in the back row. Glancing around, I saw no sign of Damien Price. My heart sank, wondering why he hadn’t texted me to say that he wouldn’t be there. I frowned and sat back in my seat. I looked at Michael, sitting beside me. His face was sad, eyes wide and solemn. If he had been anyone else, I would have assumed that he was on the verge of tears. He noticed that I was looking at him, and he smiled at me, the gesture not reaching his eyes. He held out a hand. I paused, surprised at the gesture, before taking it.

  He pressed my hand in his. I felt torn—what if Damien walked in and saw me holding the hand of another man? But, at the same time, sitting silently beside Michael in church, my hand tucked within his, something felt so…right. The service was lovely—I barely paid it any attention, trying to figure my employer out. He wanted distance, yet hated it, or so it seemed. But what was the reason? What had happened to him to make him distance himself, even from his niece, to whom he had been so close to before?

  The service ended, and we stood, heading for the door behind the procession. To my shock, Damien stood beside the door, his hands in his pockets. He stood casually, looking at me with Michael. I looked at Michael—his face was impassive. He didn’t know Damien, I realized.

  I waved to Damien, and his smile spread slowly across his face in an almost threatening manner. I felt my stomach drop like a lead weight. Something was wrong—direly wrong. I walked over to him, Michael following.

  “Damien, hi,” I said.

  “Hello,” he replied, leaning forward, and kissing me on the cheek. Michael’s face looked stern, shocked.

  “Um, Michael, this is Damien…Price,” I said feeling the full awkwardness of the situation. “Damien, meet Michael Price, my employer.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Michael said, obviously not meaning it, yet holding out his hand anyway. Damien took it, leaning in and whispering something in Michael’s ear. Michael’s face registered shock like I had never seen before. Damien leaned back as he said:

  “I know you. All of you.” He turned away from Michael, and took me by the arm.

  “If you did,” Michael replied. “Then you would know better than to touch what was mine.” Damien laughed, placing a hand on my arm.

  “Shall we get some lunch?” He asked, maneuvering me away. I glanced back at Michael, who was watching us walk away, a look of fury on his face. I mouthed to him, “Are you okay?” He didn’t respond. I turned to Damien.

  “What was that about?” I asked. “How do you know each other?”

  “We met about three years ago,” Damien replied. “You know, Michael Thompson is rather a dangerous sort. You should really stay away from him.”

  “Michael? Dangerous?” I laughed. “He might be a bit stern, and a little eccentric, but I doubt that he’s dangerous. Whatever would make you say something like that?”

  “I don’t want to discuss it right now…” Damien looked about us. “In such a public place. We should have lunch.”

  “Okay,” I said as we got in line for the buffet. I felt deeply uncomfortable. I looked about me for Mary. I saw that she was talking to Michael. Her eyes were wide, and she was toying nervously with the end of her braid.

  “Excuse me for a moment,” I told Damien. He didn’t reply, simply nodding as he grabbed a plate and began piling it with food. I walked over to Michael and Mary.

  “What’s going on, guys?” I asked. Mary turned to me a perplexed look on her tiny face.

  “He wants to leave without meeting my friends,” she said mournfully.

  “I want to leave,” Michael said. “Now.”

  “A few more minutes,” Mary pleaded. “Just a few.”

  “No. Now, Mary,” he said.

  “No,” she stomped a foot, for the first time I’d ever seen her act petulant. She reminded me of her uncle in that moment.

  “Mary,” I said, kneeling. “Your uncle says that we have to go. We will see your friends this week at the park. Run and say a quick goodbye to Jackie and the girls and let’s go home. We can fix the dinosaur chicken nuggets for lunch, okay?” She sighed deeply, rolling her eyes.

  “Okay.”

  Chapter Eleven

  As soon as we got into the house, I paged Soraya. She came running quickly.
<
br />   “Yes, Mr. Thompson?” she asked.

  “Can you watch Mary while I talk to Jennifer?” I asked. “She needs lunch. I believe she was promised the dinosaur chicken nuggets.” Soraya nodded briskly. I always made sure to phrase my demands to Soraya as questions, as if she had a choice. She took my niece by the shoulder, guiding her to the kitchen.

  “Come with me,” I told Jennifer, walking toward my office. She followed silently. I opened the door, standing aside to let her pass, and shutting it behind us. “When did you meet Damien Price?” I wasn’t going to beat around the bush. She cocked an eyebrow curiously.

  “A few weeks ago. His mother owns the general store in town.” She paused, as if she were debating something in her mind. “How do you know each other? Damien doesn’t seem to have a very high opinion of you.”

  “Technically, today was our first formal meeting.” I wasn’t about to tell her that Damien Price was a psychopathic half-man half-wolf who had attacked me three years earlier. I let the silence stretch between us. I could see that she was waiting for me to say more. “I don’t like how he was looking at you.”

  “That’s none of your concern.”

  “I want you to be safe.”

  “Funny. Damien said something similar about you.” She was sexy in her righteous anger. She was leaning against my desk. She was glaring at me, and biting her lip. The light purple sundress that she was wearing was made of a thin material, and one of the straps was sliding down her arm.

  “Don’t mention him to me,” I said as I launched myself at her, my primal instincts taking over, I slid my hand beneath the strap on her dress as I kissed her passionately. She froze for a second in surprise, but to my relief, responded. I picked her up so that she was sitting on my desk as I slid her other strap down. She moaned lightly as I trailed kisses down her neck to her breasts. She grabbed my face, pulling me toward her, and kissing me on the mouth hungrily. She began to unbutton my shirt, her fingers fumbling with the buttons.