by Jenny Allen
He scratched at the side of his head. “Fine, let’s go. Your dad is gonna be all kinds of pissed off though. Just a heads up.”
“Isn’t that what dads do best when it comes to the hearts of their daughters? And Gloria?” She almost chuckled, thinking of Alvarez’s wife wanting to handcuff their eldest daughter to keep her from sneaking out. “I didn’t mean to snap. I know you are only looking out for me, but I’m a grown woman. Gregor can be pissed if he wants to be, but it’s not his decision to make.”
Alvarez stopped and stared at her. There was a heartbreaking sadness in his eyes. “Yes, but have you really thought about that decision? Chance is a half-blood. How are you going to feel when he starts aging and you still look like this? How are you going to handle his funeral? I’m not trying to hurt you, Bonita, but there are reasons behind Gregor’s protective side. Not to mention the obvious. He works for your dad. You don’t expect that to get awkward?”
None of that had really occurred to her. The thought of Chance dying made her chest tight. She didn’t have time to indulge this train of thought. “Assuming that we all survive this, I promise I’ll think about what you’re saying. We can’t leave the other’s waiting. Come on, let’s go.” She hooked her arm through his, which made his wide mouth crack in a smile. Her own smile was a little forced from the weight of the dark storm cloud he’d pulled over her. Damn inconvenient logic.
He patted her hand affectionately. “You’re gonna make that man jealous.” An impish grin that was classically him, curled his lips as he watched Chance turn around halfway to the door. Even from this distance, in the artificial light of the parking lot, she could see his back stiffen. She flashed a smile at him that seemed to melt all the tension from his body.
When they finally reached him, Chance fell in step beside her, hooking his arm through hers. “Nothing like an armed escort to make a girl feel special, right?”
Alvarez laughed before she could say anything. “It looks more like she’s our prisoner, compadre.” His laugh was warm and rich, with rolling undercurrents of his accent. She always loved it when Alvarez and Gloria started going off in Spanish. No matter how angry they were, the language rolled off their tongue like living poetry. It was completely different from the choppy Spanish she overheard from Mexican immigrants. People hear the word Spanish and immediately think Mexico. It’s a far cry from their actual heritage in Spain and the language is a testament to that.
“Well I somehow get the feeling that that is exactly what Gregor wants.” Chance meant it to be funny and casual, but halfway through his sentence, the humor just disappeared.
“What Gregor wants and what is going to happen might be two completely different things. Can we just hurry up and get inside? This parking lot creeps me out.” A shiver crept down her spine as her eyes kept surveying the parking lot. It would be pretty easy for Spencer to follow them here from the police station. She just didn’t know how desperate he was yet. He wanted her and Gregor for sure, but would he be willing to try for them with Chance, Alvarez and Cohen all on alert, in the middle of a very public hotel? There were no guarantees.
The three of them picked up the pace and rushed into the hotel. The lobby was just as strange and miraculous as the exterior. Modern, blocky architecture created a unique, vaulted ceiling. In stark contrast, the floor was covered with red and gold oriental rugs, complete with matching neo-classical furniture. There was even a baby-grand piano perched in the center of the huge open room. It was such a bizarre mix of modern and old world antique that it just left her staring. Alvarez led them to the glass elevators, where Cohen was causally leaning. They all piled into the elevator and took off for the eighth floor.
No amount of mind-numbing, John Tesh, muzak could cut through the seething tension in that elevator. There was enough testosterone and hostility in the small, cramped space to poison Hulk Hogan.
Moments later, they were all filing into Gregor’s hotel room, with Cohen bringing up the rear. The room was a nicer version of pretty much any other hotel room she’d ever seen, with the exception of the sloping ceiling leading to a huge balcony. Espresso pre-fab furniture stood out against the creamy tan walls. The bedspreads and matching pictures were the only color in the room, with vivid pops of red and gold, echoing the décor in the lobby. It was all very refined and happy. In contrast, Gregor stood in the center of the room like a dark, ominous cloud, which darkened even more when his eyes fell on Detective Cohen.
All the traces of the casual, loving man she’d known as her father was gone. He was downright pissed off. There was a twinge of concern when he looked her over. She was pretty sure that even with Cohen’s help she looked like she’d been through world war three. Apparently, Gregor decided she’d live long enough to address other matters.
His eyes hardened on Cohen, every wrinkle in his skin leaping out of hiding and creasing his face. “Who exactly are you?” His tone was surprisingly hard and commanding. Without even thinking, she stepped a little closer to Chance, drinking in the warmth of him at her back. Somehow it helped to calm her nerves. She never once thought that Gregor would ever make her nervous, actually scare her. Guess there’s a first time for everything, unfortunately.
To his credit, Detective Cohen didn’t even flinch. He leaned against the wall with casual grace, and she noticed again how different he seemed from the good hearted Detective she’d first met. “I’m an interested party. I’ve been tracking down Duncan for a few years now. I believe he has something I need, so I have a vested interest in finding him alive. I have an arrangement with Lilith.”
Great. Way to throw her to the lions. Lilith frowned deeply. Since when was her father a lion to run away from?
Gregor strode across the room with definite purpose, like a storm cloud rolling through. Lilith, Chance and Alvarez all backed up a step without even thinking about it. Cohen stood his ground as Gregor faced off with him. “I don’t believe any of that dribble actually answered my question.” The casual look on Cohen’s face actually faltered, just for a second. Lilith got a tiny bit of smug satisfaction from that.
To her surprise, Chance stepped around her and cleared his throat. “Gregor.” Her father swung around, those piercing sky grey eyes fixing on him. She watched Chance’s chest rise and fall a little faster. “He’s not human, and he’s not vampire. You have no reason to trust him, but he did risk exposing his nature to us in order to save Lilith’s life.”
Something flickered across Gregor’s face, too fast to tell exactly what. He didn’t waste any energy on fancy words. “Explain.”
Chance’s eyes flickered to hers for just a moment, a moment definitely not missed by her father. Great. “Lilith was attacked. Spencer ran her off the road, beat her senseless and she just barely managed to escape. Cohen found her, got her to the police station. When he brought me in she was fairly coherent, but it changed lightning fast.” His eyes darted to Cohen, who merely closed his eyes, knowing what was coming next. They’d agreed to never let it leave the room, but Chance knew Gregor would never trust Cohen without either a reason, or specifics. If Cohen wasn’t willing to give him what he needed, Chance had to give him a reason.
“Lilith was suffering from multiple concussions and she was bleeding internally. She started talking nonsense, got really pale, her brain was swelling. It was all I could do to keep her awake. She was seconds away from dying, Gregor. It’s not a figure of speech.” The pain in his voice brought tears to her eyes and she wasn’t the only one. Gregor’s tough exterior faltered, red tingeing his eyes as they fell on her. “Cohen…he fed her some of his blood and it saved her life. Apparently, his blood has some kind of healing property to it. He took an extremely bold risk revealing that. If what he said is true, his own family would kill him for what he did.”
Gregor stood up a little taller, reigning in his emotions and turned back to the Detective. “That all true?” Cohen nodded cautiously. “If it is such a threat to you, why did you take such a risk?” Gregor’s eyes
narrowed, calculating.
“If Duncan dies, Lilith is the only hope I have of finding what I’m looking for. That alone would be a reason, but beyond that…” Cohen took in a deep breath, his eyes darting around the room. Nervousness. He was nervous. His eyes hesitated a moment longer on Chance than anyone else. What the hell? “Your daughter is incredibly courageous. I saw the report on the truck she was driving. It’s a miracle she lived through the crash alone, but to fight off an attacker and claw her way to safety like she did, that is truly remarkable. She deserved to live, Sir.”
Lilith blinked in total shock as Gregor carefully considered Cohen and his words. Either he had a soft spot for anything concerning his daughter, or he could see the truth on Cohen’s face as clearly as she had. He nodded slowly. “Fine, stay. If you give me one reason to doubt your sincerity, you’ll be begging me to kill you, understand?” That cold, menacing tone took her by surprise again. Chance stepped back to stand beside her, his fingers brushing against her hand. That one simple touch shot up her nerves in vibrant colors and filled her with warmth and strength. It was a unique sensation. Almost dying makes everything more powerful.
“I need to know what’s going on, Gregor.” Lilith steeled herself, ready to weather his wrath. Gregor slumped slightly where he stood and turned toward her. It wasn’t anger on his face. It was a whole heaping helping of shame. “Dad, I know you want us to leave, but we can’t do that. Spencer is helping this monster, more than that. Spencer looks up to him. He actually idolizes this guy. They won’t stop and Spencer knows everything about us. We can’t run, Dad. We have to end this. To do that, we need to know what’s going on.”
Gregor sank down on the corner of one of the beds and nodded in defeat. “You all might want to take a seat, it’s a lengthy story.”
Alvarez and Cohen claimed the two chairs near the balcony doors while Lilith and Chance sat on the opposite bed, keeping a little distance between them. She already knew they were both in for an earful later. There was no need to aggravate things right now.
Gregor spent a long time staring at his open hands, resting against his thighs. For the first time, Lilith saw the weight of all his years heavy on his shoulders. He looked exhausted and empty, nothing at all like the father she knew. It just broke her heart to see him sitting there so defeated. Finally he rubbed a hand over his closely trimmed beard and broke the silence.
“Duncan and I used to be quite close, even after Aaron left for the Romanian countries. We established ourselves in Scotland, centuries ago and we lived quite comfortably. We weren’t noble, of course. That would draw far too much attention. Everything has its pros and cons…” There was a heavy pause that made her chest tighten. “I fell in love.” A shadow of a smile pulled at his lips. She could see the layers of emotions like transparent films laid out on top of one another. Lilith could see the deep love in his face, but it was overwhelmed by tremendous pain and haunting guilt.
“Margareet was an enchanting woman, beautiful, graceful, optimistic, and compassionate, with the voice of an angel.” It was uncomfortable listening to her father talk about some woman that wasn’t her mother. It was lifetimes ago, but still, it made her skin itch.
“We were married in a quaint little ceremony and created a life out on the moors where we raised two sons on our modest, little farm. Duncan lived with us in those days and he tinkered around in alchemy, convinced he could solve the riddle of our kind. When he could pull himself away from his work, he’d help out around the farm.” It was odd to think of her father in such a simplistic life. She knew he’d been alive for hundreds of years, but it was still a shock to the system trying to picture the modern man in grey slacks and a grey knit sweater farming on the moors of Scotland in medieval times.
Gregor’s stormy eyes stared out sightlessly, lost in his memories. “The happiest day of Margareet’s life was the day little Mary was born.” Gregor looked up at the ceiling, tears welling in his eyes as he rubbed a hand over his face. There was such heartache, such deep pain, clearly on his face that Lilith wiped at her own eyes. She hadn’t seen her father cry since her own mother’s death. The pain of this loss seemed just as fresh for him, like it’d been days ago, and not over 600 years ago. After clearing the lump from his throat, Gregor continued.
“Mary was the center of our world. She was a force of nature, beautiful, compassionate, and giving.” His sad eyes settled on Lilith and a half smile quirked at his lips. “You remind me so much of her, Lilith. She was just as stubborn as you, too.” Everyone in the room seemed to disappear into the background. Right then, it seemed like they were the only two people in the world. Just her and her Gregor sharing a father-daughter moment. She stared into her father’s heartbroken eyes and wished she could take that pain away. It was too familiar. Lilith’s chest tightened as she remembered those horrible days following her mother’s death, how torn up Gregor had been. She’d been the strong one, helping her father cope.
Gregor’s voice pushed her out of her own memories. “I remember one spring, when Mary was just seven, a poor little lamb was born missing a leg. Mary scooped it up immediately and named it Trinity.” A soft painful laugh escaped as he shook his head. “That lamb hobbled around, following her everywhere. She feed it, combed it, and even brought it into the house at night whenever it got cold, which was quite often in Scotland. Nothing Margareet or I said mattered. Mary was determined to raise that lamb. Margareet gave in first and started singing about Mary and her little lamb… it’s funny how some things survive over the centuries. Eventually I think they expanded on it in the Americas adding bits about schools and teachers.” A distant smile crossed his lips and then he waved it away.
“A couple years later, Trinity was attacked by one of the feral dogs that sometimes plagued the area. We lost a lot of sheep to them over the years. Mary found the poor thing and carried her all the way home with tears in her little eyes. There was no saving Trinity and the thing was in terrible pain, bleating like crazy. I wanted to end its suffering, but Mary wouldn’t have it. She bandaged her, feed her milk, cradled her, and even sang to her. When nothing helped, she came to me and told me I was right. Trinity was in pain and she needed to find peace. This little nine year old girl, told me not to be sad, that she should be the one to give Trinity her peace. I couldn’t let her, of course. I told her I would gladly walk Trinity to heaven if she would stay with her mother and comfort her. That was my little girl, bold, fearless and so full of loving compassion.”
When Gregor paused, wiping at his red eyes, Lilith moved to sit next to him, placing her hand on his. He squeezed it for a moment, but he wouldn’t look at her now. “Every fall we would head into town for one last sale and buy supplies for the coming winter. Usually, it was Margareet and myself. Duncan would stay with the boys and Mary on the farm. However, when Mary turned twelve, she begged to see the town. We could deny her nothing when she had her sights set on it, so she came with us that fall. She joined her mother in the markets, marveling over all the people, animals and interesting little baubles, while I stayed with our goods.”
“Margareet returned in a panic. In the hustle and bustle, she’d lost sight of Mary and couldn’t find her anywhere. We searched all through the night and couldn’t find any trace of her.” Gregor drew in a deep painful breath, closing his eyes, and she knew what was coming next. It wasn’t a happy ending. She squeezed her father’s hand and leaned her shoulder against his. It tore her heart to shreds to see her father so distraught. She could feel his pain vibrating off his skin. It made her own skin tingle.
“The next day there was a huge commotion at the Tavern. I told Margareet to stay with the cart while I went to see what was going on. When I reached the building, the whispering crowd was already filling in the blanks. Some poor girl had been murdered in one of the rooms. There were snide comments about some nobleman’s son, but no one dared to even whisper a name. I pushed my way to the front of the crowd and ran inside. Upstairs, I found her, my poor Mary.” His
shoulders hunched forward and tears were stinging his eyes again, but this time, his jaw set in an angry line.
“The bastard raped my little twelve year old daughter, brutalized her. Her precious face was swollen from the punches. The spring green dress that Margareet stitched for her was torn and bloody. He’d strangled the life out of her and then tossed her in a heap on the floor like garbage. My Mary, the light of my life, now just a used up corpse on the floor.”
Lilith slid her arm around his shoulders as he hunched down and cried. Agony seared up her arm but it wasn’t quite painful, just surprising. She could feel the emotion, but it wasn’t hers. It didn’t wrack her body, she simply recognized it and somewhere deep down she knew it felt thrilling to feel an emotion without actually experiencing it. Lilith pulled her arm back, breathing a little too fast, lost in her concerns on these emotional things that kept happening whenever she touched someone. She caught Cohen’s eyes on her. There was a quizzical expression on his face that snapped her out of the private moment with her dad. She suddenly remembered the room full of people.
The rest of the room was still and quiet, no one daring to speak a single word. Gregor’s story was so deeply personal and emotional that you felt like you were intruding just by hearing it. You weren’t supposed to see your father, or boss, or elder cry like this, crying like his soul was ripped from his body. After a few struggling breaths, Gregor patted Lilith’s knee and sat a little straighter. He needed to get this out as much as they needed to hear it.
“The barkeep informed me that Sir Ashcroft Orrick’s son, Clyde, rented that room for a silver, and was the last one to leave. He was aware that simply telling me that might cost him his life, but he had a daughter Mary’s age and he wanted to see the monster punished. It wasn’t the first time this happened in his tavern, and it definitely wasn’t the first time that a horrific death was linked to Clyde Orrick.”
