Penelope glanced at her appearance in a large storefront window and looked surprised by her reflection. She untied her braids and shook her head back and forth, sending a small shower of dust, dirt, and debris into the cold breeze. “I can’t go into that shop or anywhere like this.”
Thomas climbed into the coach, pulled the door shut behind him, and scrunched along one of the seats to sleep.
“I think Father and I can get enough scraped together so you can get cleaned up.”
She shook her head and grinned. “No need, Forrest. I have gems I can sell or trade. I have money tucked away in my belt, too.”
“Breakfast?” I asked Father.
He nodded.
Penelope patted Madeline’s arm and looked at Varak for a moment. “Would you like to bathe with the baby, too? I will pay.”
A kind smile broadened on Madeline’s face. She looked relieved and her eyes moistened, nearing tears. “Thank you, young lady. That’s generous of you.”
It had been several days since we had the luxury of staying in an inn, partly due to the unpredictable weather and also due to our depleting funds.
I looked at Penelope and pointed. “When you two are finished, we’ll be in that bakery at the corner. Come eat with us.”
Penelope gave me a slight, blushful smile. She nodded and turned quickly to the inn door.
After Madeline followed Penelope into the inn, Father and I walked to the small bakery. The aroma of fresh bread and pastries wafted down the narrow street. We ordered several types of pastries, coffee, cheese, and fresh goat milk. Surprisingly the stacks of food weren’t as expensive as I expected.
“Will Thomas be safe left alone?” Father asked.
“According to Penelope, most demons won’t materialize in the daylight, but we won’t stop here too long.”
Father stared at the stacks of pastries and cheese at the center of our table. “I don’t know. Your appetite has increased a lot since London, and you’re not a fast eater.”
I chuckled. “I like to enjoy the food, well most of it. There have been some rough meals along the way.”
He winced and his expression was comical. “Some rough ale, too, son. I really think the one farmer gave us horse piss.”
“None of that, today,” I said, sipping the hot coffee. “If we have enough money, perhaps we should see about baths, too?”
Father shrugged. “Get one if you must. Wanting to impress her?”
“Penelope?”
“Yes.” He took a huge bite of an apple tart.
I blushed. “I don’t like being dirty all the time.”
“It doesn’t matter to the undead. They have foul odors of their own.”
“I know, but I don’t want to blend in with them.”
He grinned and shook his head.
“What?”
“She’s struck you pretty hard already, eh?”
“I wouldn’t say that—”
Father downed a glass of milk. “Neither of you can hide your interest for one another. Your eyes give it away, and so do hers.”
“You think she’s interested in me?”
Father rested his elbows on the table, grabbed another hunk of cheese, and smiled with pride. “Of course she is. What girl wouldn’t be interested in you? You’re more handsome than I, tall and muscular like a Roman statue, and have a soft demeanor in spite of your size. She likes you … a lot.”
“But her age—”
Father sighed. “Let’s settle something in your mind right now while it’s just you and I alone. Okay?”
I shrugged.
“Forget about the calendar years for your age from this day forward. Since you’re one of the Chosen, clearly a man in size, and have been gifted with knowledge from each vampire you have slain, you’re not a boy anymore. Sure, you will make the occasional mistakes that a child will make, but overall, you’re not a lad. Your body and mind have matured into manhood, skipping the awkward stages. It was beyond your control, but face it, son, you’re every bit a man. I’ve seen men my age act younger and more irresponsible than you. But one thing I know for certain, you don’t think like a child. You haven’t for quite some time.”
Hearing those words come from my father meant the world to me. My chest swelled with pride. My eyes heated with tears, but I resisted their flow. I smiled. “I appreciate that, Father.”
“I cannot deny the truth, so why should you?”
I stared at the food on my plate.
“What’s wrong?”
“What you said is true, about me growing older so quickly, but … it gets all awkward when I’m close to her. My stomach gets nervous. My hands and underarms sweat. I get these odd feelings inside and don’t know what to say or do. I think she’ll laugh at me.”
Father grinned. “Every man and woman goes through those emotions and that awkwardness. It’s part of maturation. But this much I’ve learned, and take it to heart. Tell her how you feel, even if it seems awkward, even if you’re uncertain of how she feels. The awkwardness is magnified in your mind more so than what she actually sees. A woman seeks sincerity. But the longer you resist telling her, the less she’ll believe you’re interested in her, and she’ll turn her attention elsewhere.”
“But what if she doesn’t feel the same way?”
“At least you’d know, right? But the two of you were quite cozy this morning.”
I chuckled nervously. My face heated, and I imagined it was bright red. “We weren’t that way when we fell asleep. I awoke with her burrowed against my chest. Maybe she got cold?”
Father laughed heartily, causing the others seated around us to look in our direction. Nearly a minute passed before his laughter ceased. His eyes dripped tears, and he wiped them away. “Sorry. I’m not laughing at you. But trust me on this, son. If she didn’t feel safe around you and didn’t have any interest in you, I don’t care how cold it was, she’d have still placed as much distance between the two of you as possible. Not even a thread of her clothing would have touched yours.”
I sipped my coffee but refused to make eye contact, thinking about Penelope.
“You still don’t believe me, do you?”
I didn’t know what to say, but I still held my doubts.
“You have doubts,” he said, as if reading my thoughts.
“How do you know?”
“I’ve been there. Every man goes through these feelings. But watch her eyes, her smile, and how she acts when she’s near you. The best advice I can give you, is for you to take that chance to tell her how you feel. Don’t think about rejection. If that happens, the next time you talk to a woman you’re interested in, telling her how you feel will become easier.”
I stared at my father in silence. Since Jacques had headed to America, Father had stepped back into his rightful place as the man who could offer me the sound advice that I needed. Not only that, he hadn’t taken a drink of any ale or spirits since the last time he had gotten drunk. I’m not certain what Jacques had said when he had scolded Father, but I didn’t think that was the reason behind his devoted sobriety. I believe he did it because it bettered him and strengthened our relationship. Maybe he also thought about how Momma would feel if she saw him lost in his stupors. Whatever had changed him inside, I was just thankful it had occurred.
Father said, “You always point toward Fate. She’s a Demon-hunter, the daughter of a Vampire Hunter. Perhaps Fate has purposely crossed your paths. Have you considered that yet?”
I frowned at the suggestion, but until that moment, I hadn’t thought about such a possibility.
Before I replied, he nodded toward the door. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Penelope through the glass. My heart raced. A lump formed in my throat, and for nearly half a minute I had stopped breathing. I glanced toward Father and his face was frozen by a stunned expression. Neither of us recognized this to be the same Demon-hunter that we had parted with nearly an hour earlier.
Father cleared his throat, nearly choking on whatever he had been che
wing. “Just remember what I told you.”
Chapter Nine
Penelope walked through the door, saw me, and blushed with a nervous smile. While she and I had talked for a couple of hours during the night, I found myself at a loss for words like I was staring at someone I’d never met.
Her curly brown hair, still partially damp, had been combed and spilled across her shoulders. She wasn’t wearing a dress, nor did I think she would, being as we were about to find out if the bounty on the vampire remained valid. No traces of mud were on her face or in her hair.
She wore a new pair of dark leather pants, a brown undershirt, and a dark leather vest. Where she had found a place to buy these clothes on such short notice was beyond me. She walked toward our table and offered a flattered grin, even though I hadn’t said a single word. Perhaps my speechless expression and gaping mouth impressed her with how overwhelmed I was by her beauty. I didn’t know what to say or how to act. I was stunned.
Father’s chair scooted back, and he rose to his feet. His hand smacked the back of my elbow. I glanced to him to see his frown and head nod for me to rise and pull out a chair for her. I did so quickly, nearly knocking my own chair over while halfway tripping over my feet to grab the back of the chair beside mine. She noticed my immense nervousness and bit her lower lip while watching my clumsy display, but she seemed adulated.
I pulled her chair back, allowing her to lower onto her seat while moving the chair closer to the table. Her hair and skin smelled of sweet roses.
“Thank you, Forrest,” she said softly.
I barely heard her words, simply taking in her radiance, and without realizing it, I said aloud, “You’re so beautiful.”
The silence afterwards hung for what seemed an eternity. Her cheeks reddened, even though she had freshly powdered them before her arrival. Her wide smile grew even wider, and she tilted her head slightly so she could see me, but her nervous glances toward my awestruck gaze were brief, volleying back and forth from my eyes to the table and back again.
I wanted to speak but my dry throat had constricted. My chest hurt and I wondered if my breathing would ever return to a normal rate. I stood there unable to take my eyes off her.
Father lowered himself back into his chair. He motioned with a nod and his eyes for me to return to my chair instead of standing beside her like a gawking fool. Believe me, it was implied, without him ever saying a word. His gazes, frowns, and expressions held their own vocabulary that I had learned since birth. Momma had had fewer but each was easily interpreted.
My face and neck felt like they were on fire; no doubt redder than the ripest autumn apple. I kept clearing my throat, trying to get the muscles to relax.
Father mercifully broke the silence. “Where is Madeline?”
Penelope took a quick breath, still smiling, and said, “I rented a room for half a day. She didn’t want to take Varak out into the cold after she had bathed him. She asked that we bring her some food back.”
Father rose and stacked several items onto a napkin. He glanced toward me while choosing a few more pastries, probably for Thomas. My eyes pleaded for him not to leave, but his giddy smile implied that he took slight pleasure in my discomfort. “You two take your time and enjoy breakfast. After you eat and talk to the man offering the bounty, let me know what our plans for the rest of the day are. No sense in me slowing you down.”
He hobbled toward the door and opened it.
Penelope turned slightly in her chair. “The room is—”
Father paused at the door. “I’ll ask at the desk. No hurries.”
The door closed.
A thousand thoughts rushed through my mind, but none aided me in what I should say or do. How was I supposed to act? I rubbed my sweaty hands on my pants, trying to find the words. Nothing coherent surfaced.
She and I exchanged several nervous glances at one another. The quiet expounded. I wondered what had changed since we had parted earlier? Inside the coach we had talked about a lot of things but now, complete silence. I was confused. We were both the same people, but her beauty captivated me. I suppose I feared I’d do something foolish to alter her feelings toward me. I was afraid of making stupid childish mistakes.
Father had said that she liked me. I liked her. Both of us could do nothing except exchange silent stares. Her eyes still looked at me with interest like she had in the coach, and her repeated smiles awaited me to start conversation.
I took a deep breath and shook my head. I was a Vampire Hunter and had killed zombies, ghouls, and vampires, and yet, I couldn’t express my thoughts to the most beautiful young lady I’d ever met? I had even come close to death a couple of times, and here I sat more frightened than ever. I chastised myself for being a coward.
Timidly she sat, looking at the food and her teacup, but she hadn’t reached for a single thing.
“Here,” I finally said, grabbing one of the apple tarts and setting it on her plate. “Those are really good.”
Her eyes met mine, and she smiled. “Thank you.”
I lifted the tea decanter and filled her cup with steaming hot tea.
Penelope eyed the apple tart on her plate. Without looking at me, she said, “Did you really mean what you said earlier as you were seating me?”
My stomach tensed. I swallowed hard. Yes, I had meant the words, but I hadn’t meant to blurt them out. Nothing had escaped my lips any truer than what I had told her. I wiped my hands again. Sweat beaded on my brow.
I glanced at her. Her hopeful eyes stared at me, and her folded hands shook slightly, making me realize that she was just as nervous inside as I was, and asking the question had been difficult for her to even ask.
Father’s words came to mind. Tell her how you feel, even if it seems awkward, even if you’re uncertain of how she feels.
“The words rushed out without me realizing it,” I said, almost apologetically.
Penelope broke our gaze and stared at the table.
“But,” I said, “if I could clarify something since I just blurted that out earlier? You are the most beautiful lady I’ve ever seen. That’s why I cannot take my eyes off of you.”
I couldn’t believe I had gotten the words out without stuttering or mumbling or dying. Perspiration welled beneath my arms, down my back, and down my chest. A lump rose in my throat. My heartbeat pulsed in my ears. The rest of the dining room seemed invisible. I even felt dizzy. When folks joked that love hurt, I now understood partially why. I was close to passing out for telling a woman how pretty she was. I was afraid to know how much worse it got from there.
She studied my face for several moments. A smile curled her lips. “No one’s ever said those words to me before.”
“Ever?”
She shrugged. “Other than my mother and father? No. But it’s expected from them.”
I sighed. “But it’s true. You are beautiful.”
Penelope bit into the tart, chewed, and nodded her approval. “I’m surprised I didn’t frightened you off when we first met, but at least now I don’t reek of that awful sweat and all the mud is gone, too.”
I smiled. “I never complained, did I?”
She leaned closer to me and stared into my eyes with a deepness no one had ever shown me. I didn’t want to look away, and oddly I didn’t feel uncomfortable. I imagined that my eyes reflected the same emotions as hers. Her gaze was the same as Jacques’ had been for Matilda and her for him. They had fallen in love, and I suspected I had already fallen for Penelope. I stared at her narrow lips longer than I should have. There was the briefest of moments when I almost leaned forward to kiss her. But instead I realized where we were, in a public place where such was frowned upon, so I fought the urge and resisted. I smiled and placed my hand atop hers and squeezed. Our fingers entwined a few seconds later.
I sipped more coffee while she ate, and we kept holding hands. My appetite had decided to vanish, which was a rarity considering how hungry I had been when Father and I had entered the bakery. My former n
ervousness when she had entered had also waned, but my uncertainty and doubts arose.
I thought about Rose and how I had profusely argued with myself to not have strong feelings toward her, and why we could never proceed beyond simple friendship. Of course the argument had been all mine and my justification for not ever falling in love. Nothing had ever been verbally exchanged between Rose and I because I had made certain the conversation never occurred. The situation was part of the reason why I had left Romania in the first place. Being a Hunter, I knew my biggest weakness was the ones closest to my heart. The same had been true for my father, and I was convinced it held true for me as well.
Vampires were heartless masters of torturing the mind over the physical body. They could kill an adversary easily, but driving a man to absolute insanity before killing him was an even greater reward. They thrived on such authority. Father had nearly been destroyed after Momma had been murdered. He still suffered from losing her. I had personally witnessed the torment ripping him apart, which had made abandoning Rose easier at the time.
And yet, my feelings for Penelope were far stronger than any stirrings I had ever held for Rose. What my father had expressed was most likely correct. Due to the intellect I was gaining from the minds of vampires I had slain, my mind had matured. I was no longer a child. I viewed the possibility of love slightly different than I had only a few months prior. Without the intellect adhering to my rationality, I doubted I’d even talk to Penelope, much less be holding her hand.
Father had mentioned Fate being what brought Penelope and I together. Could that be true? Possibly. And if so, since she hunted demons and I hunted vampires, we made a nearly invincible team.
Other than exchanging smiles and glances, we finished our breakfast and I paid the tab. She grabbed her coat off the rack near the door and slipped it on. I had been so caught up in her appearance, I didn’t remember her taking it off. Outside the door we turned our attention to the shop across the square.
Dark clouds loomed overhead. Beads of sleet bounced off my hat, the street, and the awnings. The cold morning breeze whistled as the buildings sliced its strength.
Forrest Wollinsky: Predestined Crossroads (Forrest Wollinsky: Vampire Hunter Book 3) Page 6
