Immortal

by V. K. Forrest

  “I have to go,” she said, getting out of bed.

  “Elena, please, I don’t think you had anything to do with this.” He put his hand out to her and when she stepped out of his reach, he slid across the bed and sat up.

  Elena found one sandal and, standing on one foot, she slid it on the other foot. She searched through his clothes on the floor, looking for the second sandal. Her hair kept falling in her eyes, but she didn’t pull it out of the way. She didn’t want him to see her face.

  “Please don’t be upset with me,” he said. “I’m in a bad place, here.”

  “I’m not upset with you. Of course I understand.” She found the silver sandal, at last, and stood on one foot to put it on. “This is a terrible responsibility placed on your shoulders.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t go.” He grabbed her wrist.

  She stepped in front of him and he stood up. With him barefoot and her in heels, they were exactly the same height. She gazed into his eyes, thinking this might be the last time she ever saw him. “I told you I could only come for a short time,” she said evenly.

  “You’re sure you’re not angry with me?”

  “I am not angry with you.” She pressed her lips to his, closing her eyes, savoring the feel of his lips. Tears welled up in her eyes. “I could love you, Fin Kahill.”

  She walked out of his bedroom, down the hall, and out the front door. He did not follow, for which she was thankful.

  Hurrying back to the cottage in the dark, Elena wished she had some of the psychic powers the Kahills were blessed with. She wished she could teleport her body to Rose Cottage this instant. She wished she could communicate with her sister and warn her to prepare herself. She wished she had powers that did not exist except in God. She wished she had the power to change what she knew would take place next.

  The moment Elena walked into the bright, airy living room, her sister knew something was wrong. Celeste, curled up in a chair reading a book, glanced up. Beppe and Lia were playing a video game on the large flat-screen TV.

  “Where is Vittore?” Elena asked.

  “Taking a shower.” Celeste set down her book, her brow creasing with concern. “Elena, what’s wrong?”

  “Get Vittore. Now.” She walked to the front windows of the living room that looked out on the beach and began to close the blinds. “Shut that off, Lia. Shut it off, now.”

  Celeste hurried into the back. “Vittore!” she cried, her voice high pitched.

  “What’s wrong, Zia?” Lia turned the TV off.

  “Wait for your parents.” Elena continued to close the blinds. She sounded calm, but inside, she was shaking.

  Celeste returned, leading Vittore. His hair was still dripping wet and he wore a terry bathrobe. Alessa hurried behind them.

  “We’re all here, now tell us what’s wrong,” Celeste said.

  Elena closed the last blind. She was probably being paranoid; surely they had time. But her fear lessened her reason. “Sit down. All of you.”

  They stared at her, but did as she said. Celeste, Vittore, and Alessa sat on one of the leather couches, Lia and Beppe on the other, across from them.

  “I have just come from Fin’s,” she said. There was no way to ease into a conversation like this. There was no time. Decisions had to be made at once.

  Celeste took Vittore’s hand. She knew it was bad.

  “What we have read in the newspapers, what the locals are saying about the murders here in Clare Point,” Elena said, looking from one family member to the next, “is not the entire story. What the general public does not know, what we did not know”—she met Celeste’s gaze—“is that the killings that began the week we arrived were committed by a vampire.” She shifted her gaze, looking directly at Beppe.

  Everyone else turned to look at him.

  Elena held her breath.

  “What?” Beppe demanded, coming to his feet. He was wearing black jeans, a tight black T-shirt. His damp hair was slicked back. He looked young, handsome, and innocent.

  Elena knew for a fact that he was not.

  “You’re accusing me?” Beppe shouted, thumping his chest with his fingertips. “You bitch.”

  Vittore flew off the couch. He was a small man, but he was quick. In an instant, he stood in front of his son. He raised his hand and slapped him across the face. “How dare you speak to your aunt that way.”

  Tears filled Beppe’s eyes; his father had hit him hard. “How dare she accuse me of killing those insignificant humans.”

  “She does not have to accuse you. I accuse you,” Vittore spat, furiously. “You swore to me, you swore, Beppe, after Rome, that it was an accident. That this would never happen again.”

  Celeste cried softly into her hands. Alessa slid over next to her mother, trying to comfort her.

  Lia sat perfectly still on the couch, knees pressed together, watching the family drama unfold.

  “You think I did it?” Beppe said through clenched teeth.

  “I gave you a chance,” Elena reminded him. “How could you be so stupid? How could you think you would get away with it? I knew you were sneaking out at night.”

  “You knew and you didn’t stop him?” Celeste cried.

  Beppe looked back at his father, who still stood directly in front of him. “I didn’t do it,” he said quietly.

  “What?” Vittore boomed, reaching out to grab a handful of his son’s T-shirt.

  “Vittore, no!” Celeste rose off the couch. “Don’t!”

  Beppe looked into his father’s eyes with a fury that matched the elder man’s. “Are you sure I did it? Absolutely sure? Because what her lover left out, apparently, is that the killer usually has sex with the victim first. The killer is female.” He turned slowly until his gaze was fixed on Lia.

  Elena stared at her nephew. “You’re lying.”

  “Call him and ask him,” Beppe challenged.

  The look on Beppe’s face told Elena her nephew was not lying.

  “Why don’t you ask my dear little sister about the dead humans?” Beppe taunted. “The dead male humans who were first seduced and then sucked dry.”

  It had never occurred to Elena until that instant that the killer could possibly be anyone but Beppe, and now she felt guilty for having not gotten all the facts. Her attachment to Lia had clouded her reason. Stunned, Elena sank onto the couch beside her sister, still staring at her niece. What Beppe said was true; she could see the guilt on Lia’s face.

  Vittore stared at his eldest daughter. His voice cracked when he spoke. “Tell me it is not true. Tell me you did not kill those men.”

  Lia’s face was impassive. She bit down on her lower lip. “Would you believe me if I told you it wasn’t me?” Her tone was shocking. It was not filled with fear or regret. It was angry. Resentful, and full of sarcasm. It was the voice of a woman guilty of murder.

  For a moment, no one said anything. Vittore stood frozen in front of his son. As awful as it was, he could believe Beppe could have killed innocent humans. But Lia, his sweet daughter Lia…

  “Is it true?” Vittore asked weakly.

  “It’s true, all right,” Beppe sneered.

  “You knew?” Celeste shouted at her son, tears streaming down her face. “And you didn’t stop her?”

  He slid his hands into his pockets, slouching. “She never admitted it to me, but I suspected. And I warned her. Do the deed. Pay the price, if you get caught. Right?” He shot a glare in Lia’s direction.

  “Why, Lia? Why?” Celeste sobbed, her hands together as if she were in prayer.

  The pretty girl stared at her mother for a moment, then smiled sweetly. “I don’t know. I didn’t mean to do it the first time, but when I found out I could”—she shrugged—“I did it again. And I liked it. So I did it again. They made it so easy. I liked being in charge. I’ve never been in charge of anything before.”

  Vittore sat down on the far end of the couch where Lia sat and looked down at the floor. Only Beppe stood, smirking, as if he took
some delight in the family tragedy.

  “What are we going to do?” Vittore murmured, still in shock. He stared straight ahead, but his gaze was unfocused. “She has broken the rules. After the incident in Rome, after we were all nearly caught by the vampire slayers, we agreed it would not be permitted again.”

  “We can make an exception,” Celeste said quickly. She wrapped one arm around Alessa, who was crying softly in her mother’s lap. “We…we can go home tonight. The Kahills don’t know where we live. No one will ever know.”

  Elena stared sadly at Lia for a moment. “No,” she said. “We cannot make an exception. Fin will figure out eventually that it was one of us. He will tell his Council.”

  “But you could ask him not to.” Celeste reached for her sister’s hand. “You…you said he was fond of you. You could—”

  “We cannot make enemies out of the Kahills, Celeste,” Vittore said, his voice hollow with pain. “They are too powerful a family. Too large. We have others to think of, back in Italy. Others whose lives we are responsible for.”

  “What about our daughter’s life? Are we not responsible for that?” Celeste sobbed.

  “We have obviously failed in our responsibility to her.” He met his wife’s gaze. “But Beppe is right. She knew the consequences.”

  “Vittore,” Celeste whispered. “My daughter…”

  Vittore hung his head. “I am sorry, my love.”

  Elena squeezed her sister’s hand. “As I see it, we can judge her now, here…and carry out the sentence—”

  For the first time, Lia looked as if she cared. “Mother! You wouldn’t let them…You wouldn’t—” She tried to get up, reaching for her mother, but her father pushed her back onto the couch with his small, broad hand.

  “Silence,” he ordered his daughter. “You have broken your mother’s heart. You have put all our lives at risk.”

  “What about Beppe? What about the man he killed in Rome?”

  “It was an accident. It was not premeditated.” Vittore stared at his daughter. “And it was not three men,” he managed bitterly.

  “You would kill me?” Lia screamed. She looked to Celeste, sliding to the edge of the couch. “Mother, you would let them cut off my head?”

  Celeste bent over, sobbing into her hands.

  With one arm around her sister, Elena looked up at Vittore through teary eyes. “The other option is to turn her over to the Kahills. They do things differently than we do. Perhaps their justice—”

  Lia leaped to her feet. “No,” she screamed, tears of fury running down her face. “No, you can’t! You’re my family! You can’t—”

  Suddenly, Lia bolted, headed for the door. Elena flew off the couch. Vittore sprang up. But Beppe was faster than them both. He caught his sister before she got through the door onto the porch.

  Lia scratched at her brother’s face, screeching like a wild animal. She was incredibly strong; what Elena had told Fin was that they had no psychic powers. He had misunderstood, thinking their family had no powers.

  Fortunately, as a male, Beppe was stronger than his sister and he was able to drag her back into the house. Elena slammed the door behind them as Beppe forced Lia to the floor and held her down.

  “You want me to lock her up in her bedroom?” Beppe asked, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. Lia had given him a bloody lip.

  “Let me go,” Lia whimpered, no longer fighting her brother. “You can’t turn me over to them. They’ll kill me. You can’t do it. You’re my family.”

  Elena pushed her hair out of her eyes. “Should I call Fin?” she asked Vittore.

  He was standing near the couch, holding Celeste in his arms, supporting her weight.

  “No,” Celeste sobbed, burying her face in his robe.

  Vittore met Elena’s gaze, his eyes glistening with a profound sadness. “I cannot sentence my own daughter to death. I should be able to,” he said, his voice breaking. “But I cannot. Call Fin Kahill. He will know what to do with her.”

  Kaleigh glanced at her cell phone on the nightstand and wondered who was calling her this late. It was after midnight. She’d talked to Rob an hour ago and said good night. Besides, it wasn’t his ring tone, the theme song from Spiderman. And Katy was here with her. Kaleigh had tried to talk to her a little, tried to poke around in her head, but she hadn’t gotten anything about the murders out of her. If Katy knew anything about them, she was doing a good job of keeping it hidden.

  Katy rolled over on the bed. They had been watching TV, a movie from the rental store. “Who’s that?”

  “I don’t know.” Kaleigh picked up the phone. Startled by the caller ID, she sat up in bed and hit the green key. “Peigi?”

  “Sorry to bother you,” Peigi said crisply. “We have a situation. Gair has requested that you meet us at the museum.”

  “Now?” Kaleigh asked, incredulously.

  “Now.”

  “What…what’s going on, Peigi?”

  “We need our wisewoman. We believe we have our killer.”

  “Sweet baby Jesus,” Kaleigh whispered, crossing herself.

  “What’s going on?” Katy whispered, her eyes round with excitement.

  “We’ll expect you in fifteen minutes,” Peigi continued. “We would prefer no one know.”

  “My parents?”

  “We would prefer no one know,” Peigi repeated.

  “How am I supposed to get out of the house? It’s after midnight.”

  “The same way you usually get out after curfew, I suppose,” Peigi said curtly. “We’ll be waiting for you.” She hung up.

  Kaleigh slowly lowered the cell phone to her lap.

  “What’s happening?” Katy demanded.

  “I’m not sure,” Kaleigh murmured. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest. All she could think was thank God it wasn’t Katy. If they did, indeed, have the killer in custody. “Peigi says Gair has requested my presence at the museum.”

  “Now?”

  “Now.”

  “Is it a High Council meeting?” Katy asked excitedly. “Have you been called to the High Council? Wow, that’s so cool.”

  Kaleigh got out of bed and grabbed a pair of shorts off the floor. She dropped the boxers she slept in and pulled on the shorts. She grabbed a bra off her dresser. “I’m not supposed to say anything.” She felt shaky. Scared. But relieved, too. They caught the killer; the sept would be safe.

  “Oh my God, they caught the killer!” Katy scrambled off the bed.

  “Stay out of my head,” Kaleigh snapped. That didn’t happen often anymore. She’d gotten good at keeping up her guard, but when she was stressed, or emotional, the wall wasn’t all that strong.

  Katy began to dress.

  “Katy, you can’t come.”

  “Oh, I’m coming.” She shimmied into a pair of jeans she’d picked up off the floor. They were Kaleigh’s. “There’s no way you’re leaving me here.”

  “Peigi said no one was to know. I’m not supposed to tell anyone, not even my parents.”

  “You’re not telling me.” Katy opened her arms. “I already know. Now you have to take me for my own good. To make sure I keep my mouth shut.”

  Kaleigh exhaled.

  “Come on,” Katy whispered. “I’ll walk you there, at least. I know they’re not going to let me inside.” She hesitated. “You know, it’s not easy being the wisewoman’s sidekick. No one ever notices that I can be of help to the sept, too, sometimes. Please?”

  Kaleigh glanced across the bed at her best friend. She knew she should say no, but Katy looked so sad. And it probably was hard to be Kaleigh’s friend; she’d just never thought about it that way. “We’ll have to go out the window,” she warned. “You can either climb down or let me try to transport you to the ground.”

  “Am I going to end up on a raft on Hilly’s ceiling?”

  Kaleigh threw a flip-flop at her.

  Chapter 24

  “But why?” Fin asked in frustration. His heart was brea
king for Elena, for her family. “That’s what I don’t understand. Why would you risk your life, the lives of those you love to do something like this?”

  He stood on one side of the bars with Elena; Lia stood on the other. They were in a small room in the bowels of the museum. The room was soundproof, with reinforced walls and windowless. It had been built for emergencies such as this, when the sept did not want a prisoner in the holding cells in the police department’s basement.

  Lia grasped one of the bars and glared. She looked like a kid in her tank top and shorts, not a cold-blooded killer. “You don’t understand what it’s like, living year after year, decade after decade, century after century where nothing changes. I am forever Celeste and Vittore’s little girl.” Her eyes shone with angry tears. “You understand what that means, Zia Elena? My mother still tells me what time to go to bed. After five hundred years!” She looked down at the floor. “This was one thing I could do on my own.”

  Elena made a sound in her throat, something akin to a sob. Fin put his arm around her.

  “You killed those boys because you were angry?” Elena asked, in disbelief. “Because you were disappointed by how your life turned out? They are not to blame for what happened to you.”

  “Who was I going to kill? Grandfather?” Lia demanded. “Don’t think that hasn’t occurred to me.” Her bravado was fast fading. “Probably to all of us.”

  “But those humans had nothing to do with us or with your grandfather’s sins!”

  “Neither did I.”

  Elena looked up at Fin and he wished desperately that he could do something for her, somehow ease her pain.

  She looked back at her niece. “When you killed those innocents, you became nothing better than the men who did this to us.”

  “So now you’re going to kill me.” Lia stepped back from the bars, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re going to cut off my head and hurl my soul into everlasting, burning purgatory.”

  “It’s not up to me. Fin says you will have a hearing before their Highest Council. They will judge you.”