Swear

by Amanda Hocking

  I took the opportunity to clean up - buying a pair of scissors, some wet wipes, sandals to replace my shoes I'd left at Cate's, and a snug tee shirt with a shamrock on it. In the bathroom, I washed the dried blood and soot off my skin and changed into my new shirt. My hair had been burnt in the back, so I trimmed it up to make it even, which left me cutting off a couple inches and giving myself a sort of inverted bob.

  When I came out, Peter was leaning against the car by the gas pumps. He stared off into the night, with his lips in a grim line and his gaze pensive. His normally brilliant green eyes seemed duller than normal, darker somehow.

  He noticed me walking toward him and commented, "Nice hair."

  "Thanks," I said as I handed him his sweater. "Where's Bobby?"

  "He just finished eating and went to the bathroom."

  I leaned on the car beside him. "How are you doing with everything?"

  "I don't know," he admitted. "It's still too much to process." He licked his lips and shook his head. "The thing that that's the hardest for me to swallow right now is that after Elise died, I saw Catherine, and we cried and we hugged and we comforted each other over our shared loss. And it was her fault. It was always her."

  "At least now you know the truth," I said gently.

  "And now I just have to figure out what to do with the truth."

  "Where are you going from here?"

  "I thought when we got to the airport, I'd head back to London to stay with Ezra and Mae for a while, and you and Bobby could go back to Amsterdam," he explained.

  And I remembered the taste of his blood, sweet and wonderful, and the pain that went along with it. I still felt it, like a hole inside me that belonged to Peter. The effects of the blood were wearing off, so soon, it would close. But for Peter, it was always there. An empty loneliness that he refused to fill even though it was eating him alive.

  "I'd like to go with you to London, if that's okay," I said.

  He looked down at me, his eyes gentle but subdued. "How come?"

  "I don't think you should be alone. Even just for the flight."

  It only took him a few seconds to reply, "Okay."

  "Okay? You aren't going to fight me? Tell me you don't need me and to get lost?"

  "No." He smiled. "You were right. I need to stop pushing everyone away, and honestly, right now, I don't want to be alone."

  THE SUN SHONE TOO BRIGHTLY through the taxi windows as we rolled through the busy streets of London in a hackney carriage. I wore oversized sunglasses and sunk low in the seat, while Peter held his hand over his eyes and complained of a headache.

  Bobby was the only one of us that was alert and chipper as he watched the city out the window, since he was the only where sunlight didn't sap his energy.

  The flight to London had been uneventful, with Peter saying very little, but he did hold my hand most of the way. I don't know how much comfort I was able to give him, but I was glad that he wasn't alone.

  As the car began to slow, I looked outside and realized we must be getting close.

  On one side of us was the River Thames, and on the other was an overgrown garden - bushes and trees in desperate need of pruning and tall flowers and thick grass overtaking pathways. As the car turned into the circular driveway of cracked and broken pavers, I got my first real look at the manor that Ezra and Mae were restoring.

  In the center of the driveway was a crumbling fountain, which was in line with the rest of the house. It was a sprawling building of a cinnamon-colored brick, designed in the Elizabethan style. On either side of it were two octagonal turrets, reminding me of the home that Ezra had built back in Minnesota.

  While their past house had been meticulously cared for, this one was a very dilapidated estate. The turret on the right side was half-caved in, with tarp covering it to keep out the elements. Many of the windows were boarded over, and vines were overgrowing the walls.

  "Holy crap," Bobby said as the taxi stopped in front of it. "It's like the Downton Abbey show, if the abbey was really a haunted house that had just gone through a major natural disaster."

  We got out of the car, and Peter paid the driver. The three of us walked hesitantly up the front walk, because the house seemed both far too grand and much too rundown to be the place we were sleeping at today.

  But before we reached the door, Mae opened it, greeting us in a flowered bathrobe with her hair ruffled by sleep.

  "Welcome to Brunehamme Manor," she said theatrically and spread her arms wide.

  "This is some place you got here, Mae," Bobby commented.

  "Oh, I know, it's still a work in progress, and we have much to do, but we've got the sleeping quarters ready well enough for guests," she explained.

  Mae hugged each of us, but she lingered a few seconds longer with Peter, whispering to him that she was glad he was here. That gave Bobby and me more time to take in the front hall.

  Everything was beautiful, and some of it appeared to be restored. But in other places, the wallpaper was peeling, the floorboards were coming up, and the chandelier was broken. Ladders, drop cloths, buckets, and various tools were strewn about the area, evidence that they were fixing things up.

  "I know you all had quite the night, so I'll take you to your rooms so you can get some rest, and I'll show you more of the grounds when you wake up," Mae said, then looped her arms around me and Bobby.

  The curved staircase felt precarious, but it didn't collapse as we walked up, so that was a good sign. Once she showed us to our rooms - which were in a much better state than the rest of the house, with plenty of updates and plush mattresses - it only took a matter of minutes for me to get settled in and pass out.

  When I woke up late that evening, I spent some time wandering around and investigating things for myself. The area I was in appeared mostly finished, but it very quickly went into disrepair the further I ventured. After a short while, I gave up my self-guided tour because I was afraid that I would end up in an area where I'd get myself killed.

  I made my way back to the staircase, then listened for the sound of voices or heartbeats. Eventually, I discovered Ezra and Peter hiding out in a half-finished study. The ceiling was badly water damaged and looked as if it might collapse at any moment, but Ezra apparently wasn't concerned because he'd stocked the room with many of his priceless artifacts, along with his desk, computer, and several distressed leather couches.

  As I peered in the open door, they were in the middle of a discussion, with Ezra sitting behind his desk, and Peter lying back on one of the couches, with his arm under his head, causing his shirt to rise up and reveal a hint of the taut muscles underneath.

  "I'll be more than happy to help you find her, Peter. If that's what you want," Ezra was saying in his comforting baritone.

  "The problem is that I don't know what I want." Peter sighed in frustration.

  I knocked on the open door, causing them both to look over at me. "I hope I'm not disturbing you guys."

  "No, of course not. Join us, Alice." Ezra waved me in. "We were just talking about Catherine and what we're going to do about her."

  I sat down on the couch nearest to Peter and hugged my knees to my chest. Despite his muted expression, Peter did seem to look better than he had last night. His eyes were lighter, and his demeanor seemed less tense.

  "I want her dead," he said bluntly. "Does that sound horrible?"

  "Given what she's done to you and Elise, I would say it's perfectly reasonable," Ezra assured him.

  "But I don't know if I want to track her down or even kill her myself," Peter elaborated.

  "I would be more than happy to take care of her for you," Ezra said.

  "And I could definitely lend a hand, if you need one," I chimed in, causing Peter to glance over at me sharply.

  "When Catherine first confessed what she'd done, I wanted to rip her head off with my bare hands," Peter said. "I don't know that I've ever been so consumed by rage in my entire life. But now that things have settled, I'm not sure that
's what I want or need."

  "What do you want?" Ezra asked him pointedly.

  Peter thought before answering, "I want Catherine to no longer exist. I can't stand the thought of her going about, living and laughing, thinking that she somehow 'won' Elise.

  "But I don't feel that I need to kill her, and I know that it's time for me to move on," he continued. "I've spent most of my considerable existence obsessing over Elise's death, in one way or another, and pursuing her murderer seems like an extension of that obsession."

  Ezra leaned back in his chair behind the desk, swiveling it as he took in Peter's confession. "So where does that leave us?" he asked finally.

  "I don't know," Peter admitted.

  "I can talk to my boss at the Agency," I offered. "We could maybe put out feelers for her."

  Peter rested his serious gaze on me. "Regardless of what I decide about Catherine, I know that I would rather you not be involved."

  "Why not?" I bristled. "I'm a capable hunter. Assuming she doesn't trap me in a burning building again, I'll be fine up against her."

  "It's not that I don't trust you. It's that I don't want you to be a part of this." Peter spoke slowly, as if choosing his words very carefully. "I feel like I've dragged you into far too many negative things, and I couldn't bare it if I let Catherine destroy someone else I love."

  I lowered my eyes, unable to meet his gaze when he mentioned the word love. "I understand that, but I can help."

  "Alice, this is Peter's fight," Ezra admonished me. "If he asks you or I to sit out, whether we like or not, we should. He's the one that needs to decide how best he wants to avenge Elise."

  "I know you're right, but I don't like it," I muttered.

  "There's an old adage that the best revenge is living well. I think that applies to you here, Peter," Ezra theorized.

  "That's precisely what I'm going for," Peter said. "Ostracizing myself hasn't helped anyone or anything. So it's time to try a new approach, I think."

  "Alice?" Mae's voice carried through the house, sounding distant as she yelled for me.

  "Mae is calling. I should see what she wants," I said as I stood up.

  Ezra turned his chair toward me as I prepared to make my exit, giving me a proud smile. "She probably wants to give you a tour of the manor, and you really should take it. I know the place looks like shambles, but it has good bones and an amazing history to it. We've got a long way to go, but it's going to be something truly magnificent when we're finished."

  I smiled back. "I'm sure it will be."

  I walked out of the room, leaving the boys to talk, and I had gotten half-way down the hall when I heard footsteps hurrying after me.

  "Alice, wait," Peter said, and I turned back to face him.

  "Yeah?"

  He stopped when he was only a few inches from me, and we stood together in the darkened hall. Most of the exquisite light fixtures were either broken or burnt out, and the floral wallpaper had mostly been scraped off, revealing the scarred dark wood underneath. Even though the ceilings were high, and the manor was massive, the darkness around us made the space we shared feel surprisingly intimate and quiet.

  "I just wanted to say..." Peter trailed off and frowned. "Do you ever have a feeling and you can't find the right word to explain it?"

  "Sometimes."

  With his emerald eyes burning the way they used to, Peter looked at me and started again. "When I look at you, I feel gratitude and relief and happiness and... What's the opposite of loneliness?"

  "Togetherness?" I suggested unhelpfully, and I felt my heart pounding harder in my chest. I knew Peter could hear it - the same way I heard the nervous flutter of his - but neither of us could do anything about it.

  "That's not right," he decided before finally saying, "You make me feel... loved."

  "Lots of people care about you, Peter," I argued carefully. "Ezra, Mae, Jack, even Bobby and Milo. I'm not the only one."

  "I know." He smiled then, a subtle sad twist playing on his lips. "But you reminded me that that it's not enough for people to care for me - I need to let them in."

  "I'm glad that you're not so lonely anymore and that you can appreciate how much we all care," I told him honestly. "That's all I've ever wanted for you - to be happy and whole."

  "I might never be whole, but I'm better. And for that, I thank you."

  He leaned down and gently - so gentle I could barely feel it - his lips brushed against my cheek, feeling like a cool breeze passing over my flushed skin. Then he straightened up and walked away, leaving me alone in the hall to catch my breath.

  WHEN I FINALLY FOUND MAE, Bobby was already with her. Before I got up, Bobby had been resting and recuperating, with Mae tending his wounds and making sure he got plenty of human food.

  Bobby and I spent the rest of the night with Mae, letting her lead us around the manor and explain all the things they had done and all the things they had left to do. She lit up as she spoke, seeming far more animated and talkative than I had seen in her quite a while.

  Since we'd spent enough time away from home lately, and the matter with Cate was as resolved as it was going to be for now, Bobby and I decided to head back to Amsterdam, booking the first flight out that morning.

  Peter had come to the decision that he'd had enough of travelling for a while and planned to stay on with Mae and Ezra. Technically, he counted their address as his primary residence, since he had spent the past 18 months trekking all over the world, but now he decided to make good on that claim. It would give him time to recover after everything with Cate, and he could help Ezra and Mae with their restoration.

  As Bobby and I left, riding in a taxi in the early dawn light, I stared out the back window. Ezra, Mae, and Peter stood in front of the derelict estate, and all three were looking better than I had seen them in ages. I smiled and waved at them through the window, and I hoped this was a sign of good things to come.

  It was still early when we arrived back to our apartment in Amsterdam. All the shades were drawn, blocking out the irritating sun, when Bobby and I staggered in, both of us exhausted from the last few days.

  I expected to find Jack in bed, sleeping the day away like a normal vampire, but instead, he was sprawled on the couch playing on his phone. Matilda lay on the floor near him, snoring soundly. Bobby offered him a half-hearted wave and yawned before heading back to his room to curl up with his husband in their bed.

  "You're up late," I said to Jack as he slowly stood.

  He walked over to me. "I wanted to see you. I missed you."

  "I wasn't gone that long."

  "That doesn't mean I can't miss you." He reached up, gingerly toying with a lock of my hair. "I like your hair. Those pictures you sent me didn't do it justice."

  While I'd been gone, I'd kept Jack up to date on everything. That was one of the agreements we'd made to help him be more comfortable with me gallivanting all over for work. He just wanted to stay updated with texts and phone calls and the occasional photo, not just so he would know that I was safe, but also because he loved me and wanted to know what was going on in my life, the same way that I wanted know what was happening with him and Matilda while I was away.

  "Thank you," I said as I ran my hand through my shorter hair.

  "So... how did things go with Peter?" Jack asked.

  "I already told you about the mess with Cate," I said, which was true. I had told him everything that happened with Cate and Peter, minus the one tiny part where Peter kissed me on the cheek.

  Jack's blue eyes were serious as he looked down at me. "I know. But that's not what I asked."

  "I don't know if he's still in love with me, if that's what you're asking. But nothing happened between us. We just talked, and I think he's on the road to someplace better."

  I may have left out a few minute details - like the kiss, although I had told him about Peter holding my hand on the plane - but at the core of it, everything I said was true. I think Peter wanted to be better and put our odd triad b
ehind him, and mentioning a mostly innocent peck would only hurt Jack and Peter's re-burgeoning relationship.

  "Good." He inhaled through his nose and lowered his gaze. "It's hard because I do want him to be happy, too. And I hate that he went through this whole ordeal with Cate and Elise, and I wish I could be there for him more."

  "He knows how much you care, and it really seems like he's happy to have you in his life again. Now that he's back in London for a while, hopefully the two of you can get back to where you were before everything went bad." I took Jack's hand in mine, and he looked up at me again.

  "Me too." He smiled wanly. "I really did miss you. It feels like you've been gone a lot lately."

  "With Milo's wedding, and everything with Cate, and work, I haven't been here much lately," I agreed. "Even when I am here, I haven't been fully here, you know?"

  He laughed. "Oh, I've definitely noticed."

  I put my hand on his arms and stepped closer to him, so my chest barely brushed up against him. "We should make some time for the two of us. A date night where we turn off the phones and lock the doors."

  "I like the way this is sounding so far," he said, smiling broader, and his eyes were already softening and growing lighter, the way they did whenever he thought about getting frisky.

  "Just me and you, and we forget the rest of the world."

  "That sounds perfect." He kissed me, deeply on the mouth.

  "But first, we should sleep," I suggested.

  "Well, we can start by getting into bed and locking the doors, and seeing where that takes us."

  Without waiting for a response, he scooped me up into his arms, and carried me toward the bedroom. I laughed and leaned into him, relishing how much I loved being with him.

  IT WAS AFTER MIDNIGHT ON a weekday, so the streets were relatively quiet. Matilda walked in front of us, with her tail slowly wagging from side to side. Her lead was wrapped around Jack's wrist, and I had my arm looped through his as we strolled around the city.

  Usually, Jack liked to take Matilda out earlier than the night, when she had more energy, and Amsterdam's frequent overcast skies tended to facilitate that. But the recent clear skies, coupled with Jack and me staying up late into the day, had him pushing Matilda's walk back until later.