“What’s that?” She pointed to the large journal that I was clutching to my chest like it was a life raft and I was drowning.
“My great, great, grandfather’s journal,” I mumbled.
Apparently, Kat was beginning to sober up a bit. She took in the shocked look on my face once more before asking, “He wasn’t a werewolf, was he?”
“He was a wizard,” I answered.
Marco and Luther helped to escort us from the building. To the casual observer, Kat and I must have looked like a couple of stone drunks. Marco held me tight against his side since my knees no longer seemed steady, and Luther practically had to carry Kat across the parking lot.
Once I was safely in the passenger seat, Marco leaned across my lap to fasten the seat belt. I got another whiff of his wonderful scent and managed to form a slightly coherent thought, “Why are you fastening me in?”
“If you die, Red, who would I have to play with?”
“You’ve been playing with him?” Kat asked as Luther helped her into the back seat.
Marco laughed as I answered, “No, Kat.”
“But he just said that—”
“Unfortunately, I’ve been instructed to play with myself,” Marco teased.
“Well, that’s a damn shame,” Kat said, leering at him as he fastened her seat belt, as well.
Marco climbed in behind the wheel and gave instructions to Luther to follow us in his car. The drive back to the hotel was quiet, except for Kat humming to herself in the back seat. The darkness of the tinted windows made the small space between Marco and me seem more intimate. He reached over and removed my hand from the straps on the book that I’d been absently toying with.
“Isn’t anyone going to speak?” Kat finally asked.
But, I didn’t know what to say. I was fascinated by wizards and their strange powers. But I’d always thought of them as being so far beyond my reach. Since only seven were born every century, I’d never even met a wizard before. All I knew of them was what I’d heard or read in history books, and now I had the journal of one in my hands. Not just any wizard, but my own flesh and blood. He was one of the great wizards of legend. Stories had been told about him for centuries and believe me, they weren’t all nice. Many a jilted husband blamed The Seducer for their wife’s betrayal.
Part of me was very afraid of what I might find in that journal. I didn’t want to read about the calculated manipulations of innocent women, especially not when one of them was related to me.
Marco made sure we were all right before he left. “Red.” He turned back to me.
“Yes?”
“Wait till you get home to read it.”
“All right.” I sighed.
I didn’t want to wait that long, but seeing as how Marco knew what was on those pages and I didn’t, I was inclined to take his word. Kat was about to collapse, so after Marco left, I helped her get to bed, but I didn’t sleep. Only a few hours separated us from dawn, and I spent them staring at the journal where it rested near the foot of the bed. My world might suddenly make more sense, or become even more confusing, depending on the words in that book. The more I thought of it, the more I didn’t want to know.
I drove the next morning, not just because Kat had a headache, but to resist the temptation of opening the journal. As much as I didn’t want to know, I was still too curious to let it be. I recounted the story to Kat, telling her as much as I knew. There were things I could share with her that I could never tell Richard, even though he was like a brother to me. And what happened last night with Marco was one of them. Of course I trusted Richard, but his views of the world were very black and white. According to him, “You don’t toast marshmallows over the fire that will most likely consume you.” He was right really, but I knew that Kat would understand where I was coming from. We might have been very different in some ways, but she was a woman too, and we both understood that the prospect of having a relationship of any kind with Marco was not completely unappealing.
“How could you ever live with a werewolf though? I mean, you’d have your time of the month, and he’d have his.” Kat laughed. “You might end up killing each other.”
That was true, but the conversation shortly turned to a much more pressing matter.
“What will you do with the journal?” she asked.
“Read it.”
And that’s exactly what I did. After Kat left, I unpacked my bags and spent the day cleaning the entire house. I could always think better if everything was in order, and I wanted no distractions once I got started. When at last I could find nothing more to occupy my time, I sat the book on a blanket in front of the fireplace downstairs. Since it was summer, a large collection of candles sat across the hearth in place of a fire, and I lit them all. Finally, I sat down with a bottle of wine, an empty glass, and my great, great, grandfather’s journal. The place was dark except for the candlelight, lending a ceremonial feel to the room. A fine tremor ran through my body as I began to untie the leather straps that bound the book.
I took a deep breath and opened the journal. Nothing could have prepared me for the image that was hidden just inside its cover. Staring back at me was a picture of the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. He was tall, with broad shoulders and hair the color of a captive flame. His hair was just long enough to touch the fabric of the stunning emerald robes that he wore, and for several minutes I simply stared in awe of his beauty.
Without reading further, I forgave my great, great, grandmother Aurora, for whatever she might have done. No mortal woman could have resisted this man. Hazel eyes so much like my own seemed to smile up at me as I stretched forth trembling fingers to touch a masculine version of my own face.
I couldn’t say how long I sat there with my heart in my throat before I looked at the opposite page. I dropped the book and scrambled backward across the floor, not daring to take my eyes from it. The first page was a letter addressed to me. Slowly, I crawled forward, sat the book back in my lap, and began to read:
My dearest Lilith,
I have longed to know you, and though that may not be possible, through these pages, I give you an opportunity to know me. By now, my reputation will have no doubt preceded me. I will not deny that some of it is true. However, no one will ever understand me as you will, for through you, my power is reborn.
I have seen you in my dreams, and through many visions, I have known you. You are, of course, wondering who else may have read these words, and I tell you none will ever read what I have to say to you. These pages show what I wish for them to show, and I reveal my secrets to no one.
I know how it is that you have learned of me, and I apologize for the shock. Please understand that I saw no other way. This journal had to find its way into your hands.
As far as anyone knows, though I loved many, I had no descendants. There are those who would seek to use you for their own evil purposes, and this I cannot allow. I have watched over our family all these long years, searching for the one who would inherit my power.
From the moment I first saw Aurora, I had visions of you. Though this is the first you have seen of me, please believe me when I say that I have loved you all of my life.
I know your loneliness and your pain, but do not mourn over much for an old man who has lived too long. Another will watch over you in my absence, though he does not yet know it.
Everything will not become clear at once, and there are some of my gifts that you may never receive. However, if you will let me teach you what I know, I can show you how to be so much more than what you have become.
So, shed a tear for me my child, but do not mourn for the arms that cannot hold you, for you will not always be alone.
With all my love,
Mathias Alexander
I hadn’t realized I was crying until I’d finished the letter. I held the book to my chest and cried for a man that had been dead for over forty years. There was more understanding in his words than I could have hoped for and as I read on, I loved
him too. Through his words, I saw myself. I also found that the journal was enchanted. It somehow held his life’s story. Every time I turned a page, a new one would appear, though the book never got any thicker.
I did not find the cold and calculating Seducer of legend, but a compassionate individual who felt so deeply the pain of others. As I read his description of “how to ease the troubled mind,” I understood what had happened with Kat, and more recently with Elijah. His touch had been like a balm to the aching soul. How I wished I could have heard his voice.
There is truth in the term “sexual healing” and this, my child, is what we offer. It may not always be in the technical sense of the word, but there is much comfort in the compassionate touch. It is a beautiful and terrible power that you possess and can easily be used to take advantage.
I do not have all the answers, merely explanations that may offer you some comfort.
And they did. The next week passed by unnoticed. I took breaks only to eat, sleep, and use the bathroom, and even then I sometimes took the journal with me. It felt as if I’d finally found someone to understand me. So much was made clear by his words. He gave me meditations to practice in order to more fully control what he referred to as “the voice of seduction.”
On Friday morning I was surprised to reach what looked like the final page as I read:
Do not be wounded when others do not understand you, or grieve too long when your heart is broken, for no ordinary man will ever understand you.
For a minute I paused. It startled me to read the almost exact words that Marco had spoken to me last weekend, and made me wonder what the journal had said to him. It went on to say that only one other wizard had ever come close to being able to manipulate his voice in the same way, and if our paths should ever cross, I would “know him.”
I had no idea what that meant, but I was brought back to reality by his next words:
You will turn to me many times, and find wisdom that was not here before.
But for now, hurry and lift the back cover and get a shower, you are going to be late for your date.
I had forgotten all about my promise to cook dinner for Elijah that night, but I’d learned enough not to question how Mathias could have reminded me after being dead for forty years. It’s best not to question a wizard who could see the future.
I lifted the back cover and found hidden in a small chamber within it, a necklace with a large pink stone encased with silver, and a lock of brilliantly red hair. I knew without being told that it was Mathias’ hair. I turned back to the last page, hoping for more of an explanation but found only these words:
I will explain later.
Realizing that I would get no further explanation until it was time for me to know, I replaced the strange necklace in the hidden compartment, but the hair I examined more closely. As I ran my fingers over the silken red lock I closed my eyes and felt the presence of a man I had never known, though he was as familiar to me as my own face.
“The hair is enchanted,” I heard him whisper. “It was the only way a part of me could ever survive long enough to touch you.”
In my mind, my eyes opened, though my physical eyes remained shut. I saw before me a vision, a balm to soothe my wounds, and strength to ease my weakness. He stretched out his arms toward me and I fell against him.
A peace like I had never known enveloped me as I heard him whisper, “Much of our power is in our touch. Through this, my final touch, I give to you all that I am.”
I looked up into the face of Mathias Alexander, but he could not see me.
“I know that you now look upon what I once was.” His voice broke and tears began to streak his beautiful face. “But I cannot see you. I did not know if you would be my daughter or granddaughter. I only knew that your name would be Lilith, and I would know you when I saw you. Only recently have I seen Jacob, and I knew you would be his child.”
He cradled me against him as he said, “Please accept what I have to give, for it is the only way that I can ever embrace you ... my daughter.”
Immediately, I was flooded with a feeling of such love, peace, and completeness that I was overwhelmed. Never had I felt such understanding. Nothing mattered, there was no world outside his embrace, and even if there was a world beyond those arms, I didn’t want to know. I wanted to live and breathe, and die in his embrace.
But just as suddenly as he had appeared, Mathias was gone and I collapsed to the floor with only the lock of his hair to cling to. I held his hair over my heart as I cried. Instinctively, I knew what it had cost him to appear to me. He had taken his last bit of life, his last breath ... his final touch and put it into that lock of hair. His last moments had been spent reaching out to me with a message that it had taken forty years for me to receive.
The only thing I could do was cry. Never in my life had I felt so loved. Despite Mathias’ advice I mourned him. I grieved deeply for the one person who ever fully understood me, and I would never see him again.
But, after several minutes, when I finally picked myself up from the floor, I realized how very fortunate I was to have had that one moment with him. The more I remembered his lovely face, it gave me hope and I smiled to myself as I got in the shower, knowing that that was what he had intended. I let the warm water wash away the last of my tears, and realized I felt better than I had in months. There was something cleansing in his touch. I certainly hadn’t forgotten about Bradley, or Peter, but it made their memories easier to deal with. Mathias’ touch had helped to settle the emotional storm that had been raging within me ever since I had seen Marco that first night at club Red.
I still didn’t know what the answer was, or what would end up happening to me. I did not have visions of the future on command as he had, but I now knew that whatever happened, somehow everything would be all right. That certainty wouldn’t always last. I’m too much of a worrier for that, but it helped tremendously and was what I needed at the time. The man had used his last breath to give me that message. The least I could do was listen. I took a deep breath and allowed myself to be comforted.
As I looked for something to wear, I made the decision to wait a while before reading Mathias’ journal again. He said that I would turn to him many times and “find wisdom that was not here before.” Since I had reached the end of the book for now, I took that to mean I had read all that I was meant to know at the time. Besides, there’s only so much information one can digest at a time and, in all honesty, my mind was still spinning. I wasn’t sure if I should be shocked, thrilled, or concerned to learn of my mysterious heritage. Just to be sure I hadn’t missed the appropriate emotion, I was all of the above.
Finally, I decided on jeans and a light green t-shirt. The shirt was short, coming just below the waist of my jeans, with a v-neck. I hated long sloppy t-shirts with rounded necks, and I never wore them. I also hated baggy jeans, but after the weight I’d lost recently, my jeans were no longer the perfect fit that they had been. After a while, I reminded myself that this wasn’t a date. We were just going to spend some time together. So, I stopped obsessing over my clothes, fixed my short, disheveled hair, and applied a minimal amount of makeup.
When I finally made my way downstairs, I passed the answering machine on the kitchen counter and noticed I had twelve messages. I had been so engrossed in the journal I hadn’t heard the phone ring all week. Ten of the messages were from Elijah, who was worried after the first four calls, because I wasn’t answering the phone. His last message said he would be there Friday as we had planned, and if I didn’t want him to come that I should call.
One message was from Kat, just checking on me. I was going about my business looking for something to cook for dinner when the last message began to play. “Hello, Red,” Marco’s rough and sexy voice stopped me in my tracks. “I waited as long as I could to call.” There was a pause. “I’m not sure what made me think that you would answer the phone, or what the hell I was going to say if you did.” The machine then announced that the call
had been received thirty minutes earlier, when I was in the shower.
There wasn’t time to ponder exactly why Marco had been calling me. I had twenty minutes to get something going before Elijah would be at the door. But, I couldn’t shake what Marco’s voice had made me feel. Maybe I had gone too long without sex, or maybe it was just him. Either way, Marco’s voice did things to me that went beyond arousal. Not because of any magic or particular power in his voice, but because of the man behind it. No matter how much I tried to fight it, Marco just did it for me.
Thanks to Alfred, there was never a shortage of food in the house, so I quickly began to collect the ingredients for a dish I knew by heart, Chicken Marsala. Naturally, the only porcini mushrooms I had on hand were dehydrated, so I quickly tossed them into a cup of warm water to let them soak. I had just started to brown the chicken when I heard a knock at the door. We had a doorbell, but no one ever used it. The door knocker was just too much fun. It was an antique lion’s head with a ring hanging from its mouth, which happened to be made of solid silver. This also succeeded in letting me know whether or not it was relatively safe to answer the door. Whatever was out there, if it knocked, it wasn’t a werewolf. The knocker may have been a bit gaudy, but it went well with the large oak door I had managed to salvage when the old house was renovated most recently by Alfred and myself. The Hunters who were in charge of the first renovation years ago felt that a Victorian style would be more pleasing to the eyes. The original structure had a much different, more medieval look.
I had been attracted to that particular spot, not only because of its lack of neighbors, or because it was in my home town, but because it once belonged to another Hunter.
After the death of the previous owner, The Hunters had retained the rights to the property. However, the Hunter who’d had the place built, leaned a bit to the macabre, and no one was thrilled with the idea of living in a house with a fully equipped dungeon. But the novelty was too much for me to resist.
There’s good money in werewolf hunting, but I got the house and surrounding property at a steal because of its “undesirable amenities.” The space that is now Alfred’s laboratory, used to be a large storage room. Rumor has it, the place was completely filled with bizarre weapons, some of which my father confiscated for his own private collection.
Lilith Mercury, Werewolf Hunter Series (Boxed Set, Books 1-3) Page 19
