Stormfront (Undertow Book 2)

by K. R. Conway

  She had nothing, but she did have Mae and me. She had Raef and MJ, and most importantly she had Kian.

  Kian, who she wouldn’t even say a word to when we got in the car. I felt so bad for him.

  I was sure he thought he had done something wrong, and in his face I could see the worry that Ana was going to pull away from him once again. I couldn’t even begin to fathom what they had experienced together the summer they met. The ultra-highs of true love falling away to the devastating lows of her father’s death.

  She even admitted that she had called Kian a murderer. I knew she now regretted what she had said to him, but Ana was still on the mend. She was strong and determined, but I suspected that one cruel summer had changed them both, and not completely for the better.

  I looked over my shoulder to Ana as Raef drove through the town’s winding roads. She was looking out the window at the homes that slipped by, many packed with out-of-state cars. They belonged to family members from all over the country, who were coming home for Thanksgiving.

  No one, from anywhere, would come for Ana. But she was home now, with us. She would always have a family with us, as strange and unlikely as we all were together.

  As I turned back to look out the windshield I caught Raef’s eye and he mouthed the words, You okay?

  I nodded and he laced his free hand in mine over the center console of the Jeep. His thumb traced a small, endless circle on my hand as we drove.

  After a few minutes we finally made it to the cemetery, and Raef asked Ana where her father’s plot was, but Ana, her eyes glassy, just shrugged. “I haven’t been here since he was buried. Everything looks different. I should have come before. It took a tree falling on his stone for me to come out here.” She sniffed.

  I leaned back toward her. “Hey – your Dad understands. Life gets in the way and it’s hard to come here. He doesn’t want to cause you pain,” I said, but the second the words came out of my mouth, I wished I could take them back.

  Ana gave a choked, brittle laugh, “You definitely didn’t know my father, Eila.”

  Raef cleared his throat. “I’ll go find the groundskeeper. He can tell us wherever we are supposed to go.”

  Raef got out of the Jeep and headed for an office-like building, and soon he was walking back with a map in his hands. He climbed in and shut the door against the cold, handing me the map so I could direct him. Ana stayed silent in the back, her eyes trailing over the many stones, some as old as Raef’s time. Something occurred to me then.

  “Do you think any of your family is buried here, Raef?”

  He gave a shrug. “Maybe. Possibly. My parents and my sister moved to Virginia before I was turned, however. I would think they would be buried down there.”

  “Did you never contact them after you were turned?”

  Raef gave me a look that questioned my logic, “No. By the time I was able to control the more dangerous side of my new personality, it had been more than a year. My parents assumed something had happened to me, though I did hear they were trying to find me. But then I realized I would never age. I would never eat, marry, or have children. The son they knew was dead. Contacting them was not an option. They eventually sold our farm to another family who renamed it CatBird Farm.”

  CatBird Farm was where MJ’s family bought all the supplies for their ice cream shop. I was stunned. The land had belonged to Raef’s family? I was about to reply, but Ana’s small voice spoke up.

  “This looks familiar,” she said, tapping her finger against the window. Stacked against the fencing of the cemetery was a pile of freshly cut tree trunks and not far from them, the carnage of what a massive spruce could inflict when it fell.

  Raef slowed the Jeep to a stop and we all got out. By some instinct, I knew Ana just wanted me with her, so I asked Raef to wait by the car. He didn’t argue and seemed to understand.

  Ana and I slowly stepped through the stones. This section of the cemetery had only flat stones that lay flush with the frozen ground. Many were crushed beyond recognition, but we still went through them, brushing snow from the engraved letters to read the names.

  One stone, heavily caked with snow, had been split into three pieces. I stopped next to it and started working away the snow when I caught sight of an “L” and “A.” I worked faster, pulling off my gloves so I could fit my finger into the grooves within the granite that formed the name. When I was done, Ana’s father’s name was facing me.

  “Ana!” I called. “He’s here.”

  She jogged her way through the snow and stopped next to me. The words on the stone, now split and twisted, were simple:

  Harold Lane

  June 3, 1968 – September 2, 2012

  Ana just stood there, looking down at her father’s gravesite for a long time before she spoke. “I . . . I didn’t have money for a nice stone,” she said quietly. “I barely had money to bury him, so the guys from his work kicked in to help.”

  Tears started to silently trace her fair, wind-kissed cheeks, and my heart clenched, thinking of what she went through alone. Of what Kian went through, knowing how much pain she was in. I couldn’t help it, and soon my own tears came just as quietly.

  Ana sunk to her knees on the icy ground and began pushing the snow farther away, attempting to fit the broken pieces back into place, as if doing so would fix the past.

  I had to look away and saw Raef, watching me, his arms crossed. He saw my tears and his arms fell to his sides, concerned, and he began walking toward me, but I shook my head for him to stay where he was.

  I had nothing to offer Ana in that moment except my unfailing love as her friend, and I got down next to her to help. When we were done, the pieces fit roughly together, but I knew Ana’s heart was shattered.

  When we finally got back to my house, Mae was spinning with activity. She had pulled me aside as soon as we arrived home, asking why Ana looked so upset. I filled her in on what had happened to the stone, and though she was very sad for Ana, we didn’t have a few thousand dollars to replace it either. According to the cemetery, it would take more than a year for their insurance to order a new plaque, and that weighed heavy on Ana.

  I stayed in the kitchen, helping Mae with the food, but Ana went up to her room and closed the door.

  Raef had texted Kian when we were at the gravesite, letting him know what was going on. Kian however, didn’t reply. At first I thought he might not have gotten the message, because when we got back to the house, he was gone. Raef tried to get him on the phone, but he wasn’t answering. Dinner was supposed to be in a few hours and no one could find him.

  Frustrated that I couldn’t locate Kian or ease Ana’s sadness, I called the one person who could find the sun in the worst of a hurricane: MJ. He picked up after just a few rings.

  “WOMAN! How the heck are ya? Happy Turkey day!” he yelled as soon as he answered the phone.

  “Happy Thanksgiving weirdo! We miss ya! How’s Florida?” I asked, my entire mood lifted just by hearing his voice.

  “West Palm is ‘da bomb, well except for my Aunt Lois and her strange casserole. I took two bites and decided death-by-food-poisoning was not the way to go. Don’t ever eat what she serves you. Seriously.”

  I started laughing as I tucked the phone into my shoulder so I could continue lining up the ladyfingers in the pan for tiramisu. Mae glanced at me. “Is that MJ? Tell him I said hi,” she prodded.

  “Mae says hi,” I dutifully reported.

  “Tell that wonderful woman that I miss her and her excellent culinary skills. Tell her to send a care package to me . . . or better yet, drive it down here!”

  I looked back at Mae, “He says your cooking is lousy.”

  “WHAT? I DID NOT!” he howled into the phone, loud enough so Mae could easily hear. She just laughed and waved a dishtowel at me, continuing to clean the wine glasses. She had so many glasses out I was wondering if she was planning on getting everyone hammered.

  I placed the last ladyfinger carefully in the pan, knowi
ng that the only people who’d actually be eating were Ana, Mae, and me. We were going to have enough leftovers to feed the whole neighborhood.

  I left Mae to her glasses and headed into the living room talking to MJ as I walked. “So Ana dragged us to Nauset yesterday so the guys could surf, even though there was a snow storm. Are ya jealous?” I asked, knowing MJ loved to surf.

  He snorted, “Not likely. I went surfing too, the only difference was I could wear my swim trunks and not freeze to death. Eighty-eight degrees Chicky! And the women . . . I don’t even think those strings they were wearing could be classified as swimwear!”

  “You can stop right there, thanks. I get the gist.” I flopped into the sofa and kicked my feet up onto the coffee table. “Did you get to check on Cerberus?”

  “Kian’s elaborate dinghy? Yeah, yeah – not sure he could put it at a more snooty marina though. I nearly got tossed on my ass when I got to the gate. Tell him that down here, Cerberus is far from the biggest fish in the sea. I think I even saw Usher!”

  “You did not see Usher. You’re hallucinating.” I laughed.

  “I am not! Just make sure you tell Kian about his boat or he will start hounding me.”

  I shifted forward on the couch, the stress of today starting to weasel its way back into my body. “So, uh, listen. I can’t actually find Kian right now.” There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.

  “Seriously? Where did he go?”

  I sighed and filled MJ in on what had happened. He listened intently, never once interrupting me, which NEVER happens. Finally I heard him take a deep breath.

  “I’ll call him,” he said, in a determined voice.

  “He won’t answer.”

  “He will for me.”

  I sighed, feeling less than optimistic. “Hey MJ – there’s one other thing. He called herPix. It seemed to freak her out a bit. Do you have any clue what that was about?”

  The silence on the phone felt endless as I waited for MJ’s reply. Finally his voice breathed through the wireless connection, “Yeah, I know what it’s about. I gotta go. Love you, Eila. Tell Ana I will be home soon and I miss her.”

  “I will – love ya too,” I replied as the call disconnected, feeling totally left out of whatever was really said between Kian and Ana.

  About an hour before we were to have dinner, Kian returned. He gave us all the briefest of greetings and went straight up the stairs to Ana’s room. Raef and I heard the door open and close and then nothing.

  Curiosity was going to kill me.

  Thirty minutes later Kian and Ana walked into the dining room. While the light hadn’t returned to her eyes, her mood did seem better. She had pulled herself together, probably with the help of Kian, and was ready to rejoin us. Rather than make some emotional scene of hugging her, I offered her a pile of plates. “Help me set the table?” I asked.

  “Sure,” she replied and took the dishware. I gathered up other table items and the boys asked if they could help. Mae set them to various tasks and soon the kitchen and dining rooms were a hum of voices, laughter, and the rich scent of Thanksgiving.

  A knock on the door a short time later alerted me that Christian had probably arrived. Why Mae had to invite him was beyond me, but I sucked it up and tried to be a gracious host. The reality was Christian didn’t really bother me, but I didn’t know him very well either. I also didn’t know how to treat him – as a friend? A stuffy business man? A watchful grandfather? A sex symbol?

  Okay – that last one was a definite no.

  In the end, we were probably both trying to navigate how our relationship would work.

  I got to the front hallway, Raef following me closely, and opened the door. There, standing on the porch with a bottle of Cristal champagne worth more than my Jeep, was Christian. A flawlessly cut suit framed his perfectly sculpted body and stunning face. No wonder Elizabeth fell for him and Newport named him Most Eligible Bachelor.

  He gave us a brilliant smile. “Eila. Raef. Happy Thanksgiving. May I come in?” He always asked, even though I had granted him permission nearly a month ago.

  As a Mortis, he could only enter a house if the owner granted him passage. I would never forget the day I invited Kian and Raef inside my home, though they had been inside 408 many times when they were human. Raef had helped build my home, including some of the furniture, including my four-poster bed. He had been a friend to Elizabeth, who had hired him as a young, gifted carpenter. The fact that he failed to protect her that night in the harbor haunted him, but he had been turned into a Mortis back then and didn’t recognize her as a friend.

  “Please come in. Mae will be pleased to see you,” I said, stepping aside so he could enter. Raef, still unsure of Christian, moved slowly out of the way. The two soul thieves sized each other up, but then Christian held out his hand to shake Raef’s.

  My guard didn’t move.

  “Raef - I am forever grateful for all that you do for Eila, and understand your reluctance with me. I’d want you to be wary of anyone that comes close to her. But I want nothing but the best for her, and that includes the men she loves. You should remember that when your mind wanders to certain things not related to her safety.”

  Did he just slam Raef? Bastard – I think he did!

  “Excuse me? You have no say in who I do or do not love. You need to rethink what you have just said,” I whispered, angry. I was seriously pissed.

  Raef, unmoving and unflinching, wore a mask of stone. I couldn’t read him, but felt the tenseness of his body next to me. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and crisp, “You have been invited by Mae and she expects you, therefore I can’t toss you out into the snow. But you hold no rights to Eila’s life, nor can you dictate her free will. My goal is to keep her safe, so that she may lead the life she chooses, with whoever she deems worthy.”

  My throat tightened at his simple, yet elegant, pledge to me.

  Christian, never loosing his cool, simply tipped his head graciously. “I think I will seek out the hostess. Please excuse me.”

  He left us, standing together in the hallway, as he walked toward the parlor and the kitchen beyond. I heard Mae greet him with an enthusiastic hello, followed by a more subdued pair of greetings from Kian and Ana.

  Raef looked down at me, a devilish gleam to his eyes, “Sure I can’t just kill him?”

  “I’ll think about it,” I replied, with a wink.

  An hour later, between bites of turkey and potatoes, I learned that Mae had accepted a job working for Christian as an antique real estate scout for North Star Historic Estates. She would get to travel all over the country and though she had some concerns about leaving me now and again, I could tell she was entirely thrilled.

  I swallowed back my unease over Mae being so close to Christian and prayed it would all work out. Having Mae work for a Mortis would either keep her safe . . . or put her directly in the crosshairs of my messed up family tree.

  10 Eila

  During my recovery from my stellar performance in the Breakers, my physician had recommended a physical therapy that could help strengthen my core muscles.

  Most of her suggestions sounded downright annoying until she mentioned horseback riding. I had ridden most of my life in Kansas and loved the feel of a horse under me, the rocking motion being its own form of mediation. I jumped at the chance to ride again, and Mae was able to find me a barn that could aid in my recovery – Blackstone Acres a few towns over from my house.

  Raef hated the idea. I didn’t know why until he revealed that he couldn’t be around animals. He said that as soul thieves, neither he nor Kian could safely come with me, or the horses might bolt and throw people in their panic. So MJ had stepped up to the plate and accompanied me in his human form.

  Unfortunately my last riding session was today, the day after Thanksgiving, and MJ was still in the land of palm trees and scantily clad women. I had no problem going alone, especially since a quick one-on-one with Mae’s new employer, Christ
ian, revealed absolutely no talk of the Breakers in the New England Mortis community. In the last five weeks, not a single soul thief came after me.

  Plus, it was the off-season for Cape Cod, and when the tourists left, the soul sharks often did as well. Without swimmers in the water, hunting on the Cape became more of a liability for a Mortis. Hiding bodies on such a small peninsula wasn’t easy, but swimmers would just appear to have drowned.

  So when the beachgoers vacated the cold Atlantic water, the Mortis did too. They favored the southern parts of the country, or the more remote Northern woods, where bodies would be taken care of by bears. How nice – I lived in their summer hunting grounds. Just peachy.

  I assured Raef that I would be riding in the indoor arena, as always, and he finally accepted the fact that I was going. He knew he couldn’t dictate what I could and couldn’t do – no one can hold that power over you unless you let him. Sure, I could have skipped riding just to make him happy, but I loved riding. Plus, I wanted to prove to Raef, once and for all, that I could go places without him and come home in one piece.

  By the time I got over to Blackstone it was early afternoon. I had agreed to meet sweet (but air-headed) Sarah, another rider and part-time instructor, around 2:30.

  I pulled my horse, Porter, from his stall and brushed him down, checking him over for any ticks or stones in his feet. By 2:45 I was tacked up and ready to ride.

  Sarah, however, was nowhere to be found.

  This was a problem since I didn’t have her phone number.

  I looked around the barn. I could see a girl about 12 stalls down from me cleaning a saddle. I yelled down to her, “Hey – do you know Sarah’s phone number?”

  The girl looked up from the leather she was polishing, “Does she own the mental-case Arabian?”

  “Yeah. That’s her. Do you have her number?”

  “No, I’m sorry,” called back the girl.