Abomination (The Path to Redempton Book 1)

by Kimbra Swain

  “You need to explain this to me,” he yelled as he ran toward me. The doors were shutting, and a tear rolled down my cheek.

  As I opened the door to the training room, both classes stood there stunned. “We are done. Enjoy the long weekend. See you all on Monday.” I spouted and they quickly dispersed before I changed my mind. The moment they all hit the hallway sound erupted in conversations about what had just happened. I wasn’t sure what actually happened other than I uncovered a mole in my training class. We fought, and I enjoyed most of it. She was good. Extremely good. The best I’ve ever seen. I looked up to Meredith and her scowl sat firmly in place. “What?”

  “Did you have fun? Seems like you did by the smirk on your face. Did you forget that she’s been in your class all this time doing a form of sadomasochist slug fest? Do you even know who she is?” she spouted. I hate it when she spouts. Mouth vomit was what one of the other guys called it. Pretty appropriate. It’s not just a woman thing though, I’ve seen plenty of guys do it especially when they get caught in a lie.

  “I know exactly who she is. She’s Gregory Theodoard’s granddaughter.”

  “She’s a fucking bad ass wizard.”

  “And she never once used a drop of magic in this room, even against me just now,” I pointed out.

  “Are you forgetting the fact that she’s a big fat liar?” she said exasperated.

  “No, Meredith. I’m not. She’s gone. It’s done. It’s over. Whatever it was.”

  “Maybe they are trying to get rid of you.”

  “What? Why? You are completely off base.” I sat down and started putting on my shoes. I just wanted to get out of this room and get back to my apartment, alone.

  “You want some company?” Meredith asked if on cue.

  “No, Mere, I need to process this. Thanks though. I always know I can count on you.” I could not believe that line just came out of my mouth. It was either pure evil or pure genius.

  She blushed and said, “Okay, you know where to find me if you need anything.”

  She left me in the room. I stood and looked at the mat. I had reviewed the moves over and over. And then it hit me. She left it open for me to get out of the naked choke hold. I hate it when someone lets me win. “Bitch.”

  I left the room and stalked up the stairs to my apartment. I entered the room and immediately went on my guard. I could smell her in there, honeysuckle and cinnamon. Mostly cinnamon. I looked around the small living area and into the open kitchen. I looked into my bedroom and bathroom. No one there. I walked back into the living room and on the coffee table was an envelope that I hadn’t noticed. I walked over and sat down on the table staring at it. My full name scribed in a beautiful steady script on the front. Well, if I really wanted to know the truth, it would be in that envelope. I opened it and pulled out a heavy stock single card. The same handwritten script was on the card.

  “I cannot express my deepest apologies for the disruption to your process as well as any personal harm I may have caused you. I owe you more than an apology. I owe you an explanation. If you would, please join me tonight for dinner at The Table in Boulder. The reservation is at 7pm under Davenport. If you choose not to come, please know that I meant no harm, and you are truly the best instructor The Agency has training our crews. I am honored to have been a part of your instruction, and watching first-hand the skill and care you endow to each of your students. Sincerely, Abigail Davenport.”

  I flicked the card back on the table hard enough that it slid off the other side on to the floor. She wanted to kick my butt and go on a date all in the same day. This woman is either completely delusional or the most intriguing woman in the world. She could be on one of those alcohol commercials. Of course, I wasn’t going to meet her. Why would I go? I don’t need an explanation. However, I got up and went to my bedroom closet anyway. I wouldn’t have anything to wear to a restaurant that took reservations. Maybe a pair of my newer khaki fatigues would pass. I opened the door and on the inside hook hung a garment bag.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

  The tag hanging from the zipper had the same script, “Just in case you don’t have anything to wear. A” I zipped it open to find a dark grey suit with a white dress shirt. Both emblazoned with a Calvin Klein logo. “What the hell!” No, this is ridiculous. I’ll find a way to return the suit to her, and then I noticed another card in the pocket. I pulled it out. “Even if you don’t come, keep the suit.” I took a few steps back and sat down on the bed staring at the suit hanging in my closet. Calvin Klein means big money. Of course, she was wealthy, her grandfather basically ran the world. It also meant high maintenance. But this wasn’t a date. It actually felt like a weird job interview. I was not going.

  I laid back, stared at the ceiling and started to close my eyes. I hadn’t slept much the night before trying to figure out the best way to handle the situation. Perhaps a nap would clear my head. I couldn’t have predicted any of this. I drifted off to sleep unsure.

  The nightmare started immediately. I could smell blood. I looked down at my hands which weren’t hands anymore. They were blood-covered claws. I looked across the bed to my beautiful fiancée. She was covered in blood. Her jet-black hair glistened with thick blood. I jumped to her side on the bed and tried to talk to her, but she sat there staring into space. Her body ripped and shredded. Dear God, no please don’t let this be happening. I started to cry. Muffled whines escaped my lips, and I turned my back to her body. I couldn’t look at it any more. I looked across the room to a shattered mirror on the far wall and blinked. A large black jaguar stared back at me. I turned quickly thinking it was behind me. I looked back at the mirror as the predator turned to me in unison. No, this is impossible. I tried to wail. I looked down at myself. I felt human, but what I saw was animal. It was a beast. Just like Father Sergio had told me. There was a beast there. I heard a noise, and turned toward the door. A tall dark-skinned, dark-haired man stood there. He had his hands up in defense. Like he was trying to calm me down, and he said the same word I’d heard a demon once use during an exorcism, hodéezyéél.

  I bolted up in the bed from the nightmare and hurried to the bathroom to splash water on my face. I had the nightmare whenever I got too emotional. These last 24 hours had been an emotional roller coaster. I took several deep breaths, and resolved myself to lay back down and ignore Abigail Davenport’s invitation. I couldn’t let it the nightmare stop me or cause me to relent my resolve.

  It was 7 p.m. I sat at the table alone. I didn’t think he’d come, but I took the chance anyway. The waiter who earlier introduced himself as Walt, approached me, “Ms. Davenport, may I get you a drink?”

  “Yes please, bourbon on the rocks, please.” It would be nice to have a bit of alcohol after the prohibition I placed on myself while in the training classes.

  “Any preference, ma’am?”

  “Just the good stuff, Walt, something small batch,” I replied. Might as well have a good meal. I picked up the menu, looking at the fine offerings. My Aunt Lianne had suggested the place. Boulder was the closest city to the compound. I didn’t spend much time in Boulder, because my own home was in Europe. The atmosphere was comforting, and they had given me a table away from those being seated in the front of the restaurant for a little privacy. Didn’t look like I’d need it since he wasn’t coming. A waiter seated a large group of family members on the long communal table in the center of the restaurant. The family members all greeted each other warmly. Sharing hugs and handshakes. I smiled watching them all interact. And then he stepped through the crowd. It caught me off guard. Not only was he here, he wore the suit. He looked great in it. He approached me, and I stood to greet him. I could tell he was as nervous as I was. Hopefully we could get past that, and perhaps I could make amends to him by explaining everything.

  “Hello, Mr. Duarte, I’m very pleased you came.” I gestured toward the seat. He looked at it and sat down.

  “Miss Davenport, thank you for the invitation
.”

  “I would appreciate it if you called me Abigail. Or Abby.”

  “Um, okay. Abigail.”

  Walt appeared with my drink and sat it before me, “Mr. Duarte, would you like a beverage?” I had told Walt earlier that I expected a guest to join me, and Walt being thorough asked his name.

  Without looking up from the menu, he said, “Just a water, please.”

  Walt hustled away. “I apologize. Do you not drink alcohol? I ordered a bottle of wine for dinner, but I can cancel.”

  “No. It's fine. I drink occasionally. I’m just trying to keep a clear head,” he stated flatly. I got the feeling this meeting was going to be completely awkward.

  “The suit looks very nice,” I said, “I made the reservation, and it didn’t occur to me that you might not have anything at the compound to wear. I had something brought in for you.”

  “Eliminating excuses,” he said looking up to meet my eyes.

  “I don’t catch your meaning,” I said.

  “You eliminated the excuse that I’d have nothing to wear. In fact, I couldn’t come up with one single reason not to come. Except that I had classes scheduled for this evening, but in my frustration after the fight, I cancelled everything for the rest of the day.”

  “That wasn’t my intention, I assure you, Mr. Duarte.” He had to think the worst of me. I deserved it. I’d have to take my medicine. I botched this, and I’d let him get any dig in he wanted.

  “If I call you Abigail, you have to call me Tadeas. Otherwise it will get even more awkward, and I’m not sure I can handle any more awkward today.”

  I laughed. I couldn’t tell if he was joking, but I found it humorous, “Okay, Tadeas.”

  “And what’s with the British accent?” he asked.

  I took a sip of my drink. I wanted to chug the whole thing. Awkward indeed. “I’m British. Well, I was raised around people with a British accent.”

  “You weren’t British in my class.”

  “No, to fit the part, I Americanized my speech as much as possible. I was out of practice. I was afraid I’d give myself away with it.”

  “Perhaps you shouldn’t have been hiding in my class in the first place.”

  A warning shot across the bow. I held steady. “You are absolutely correct. I completely botched this whole ordeal.” Walt chose this moment to return with Tadeas’ water, two wine glasses, and the bottle I’d ordered earlier. He deftly opened it for us and described the features of the wine, while pouring us each a taste in our glass. More awkward. I had the feeling that Tadeas hadn’t ever had a proper sommelier present wine. I lifted it to my nose and took a whiff. I then swirled it to check the color. He watched the ritual intently and took in each of my movements. I took a sip and complemented it. Walt then filled both glasses completely and excused himself promising to return shortly to take our dinner order. Tadeas picked up the glass and took a sip. He lifted his eyebrows in surprise. I suppose he approved because he took another sip.

  “You were saying,” he prompted.

  “Just that I know that you have a lot of questions, and I promise to answer them all,” it was hard to convey my remorse. Perhaps as the night went on I could help him understand my motivations. I doubted he would ever forgive me. The night hadn’t started out well, but that was to be expected. I would continue to try. He deserved it. He took the time to come. Even if it was just pure curiosity, he was here, and I needed to take advantage of the opportunity.

  Walt returned to take our orders. I ordered the niman pork chop, and he ordered a dry-aged steak which was my second choice. Walt excused himself, and I drained the last of my bourbon. Tadeas nodded at the empty glass, “What kind of alcohol?”

  “Bourbon on the rocks. Four Roses Small Batch, I believe.” He lifted his eyebrows somewhat surprised at my choice of heavy liquor. “Bourbon is my weakness,” I confessed, “And despite what my grandfather and his Irish Scotch says, I think it’s best when they age it here in the United States. I think it makes me a traitor to him.” I smiled hoping the anecdote would ease his mood. For a moment, I saw a smile creep into the edges of his eyes. I had seen him smile while watching him teach over the last few months, but his smiles were rare. He didn’t grace me with one now. Strike one, Abby.

  The crowd in the center of the restaurant had a raucous moment drawing both of our attention to the family gathering. “Is your grandfather important to you?” he asked.

  “Yes, he is. He’s not my grandfather though. More like my great, great, great, and so far, removed great grandfather.”

  “You aren’t like him?” he asked.

  “Like him in what way?” I countered.

  “He’s a god,” he said in a low tone so that no one but myself heard him.

  “Oh, heavens no. I’m just a wizard. I have never known my mother. And all I know about my father is that he’s a master wizard. My mother is from my grandfather’s family line, but he’s so far removed that I don’t have any of that god blood in me. Just the genetic signature that connects me to Mr. Theodoard.”

  He took this in and sipped his wine. I could tell he had many questions. He just didn’t know where to start.

  “Tadeas, you have earned my complete honesty. I owe you that. There is nothing you can ask that will offend me. Please ask whatever you wish. This night is yours to direct as you choose.” This pure promise of truth and openness would give him the authority over the evening and how the conversation went for the rest of the night. I had hoped it would be a gesture that would open the conversation up for both of us.

  “I’d say I’d earned at least that,” he shot back. Strike two.

  I bowed my head. “Yes, at the very least,” I softly replied.

  And for a good ten minutes we sat in silence. Awkward silence.

  Walt appeared with our food. It all looked delicious. I thanked Walt, and he excused himself. I looked at Tadeas’ beef and knew I should have ordered that instead. Mine looked good, but I loved a good steak.

  “You want some?” he offered.

  I stared it. “Um, no thank you. It just looks wonderful.”

  He took a bite and said, “It’s pretty damn good.”

  We sat and ate. When my wine would empty, and I knew it had several times, he refilled my glass. I think he only refilled his once. Walt brought a second bottle when the first emptied, and asked if we would be having dessert. I looked at Tadeas prompting him to reply if he wanted, “No thank you Walt, the dinner was great. My compliments.”

  “Thank you, sir. And for you, Miss Davenport?”

  “No, thank you Walt. Thank you for your attention tonight.”

  “I will be close by if you decide you need anything else.”

  “Thank you.” He pulled my credit card out of his apron and slid it across the table to me and stalked away. I had already given him my credit card to pay for the meal before Tadeas arrived, and gave Walt instructions on the percentage of tip to include on the check. Waiting tables was a thankless job, and I always wanted to make sure that my server was heavily compensated. I liked to do it before the meal. It insured that our service would be great, and would be great every time I returned to an establishment. I would have to return here at some point and sample that dried-aged steak. Walt would want to wait my table.

  “Is there a bill?” Tadeas asked.

  “No. It’s already been taken care of,” I replied. They would send the receipt to my phone, and I would sign it and submit it back to them. Ah, the modern age of technology.

  “Where should I return this suit to?” he asked. That one hurt. The suit was his. I had it and several others made for him. They were all at my home in hopes that this would work out in the end, and I could return to establishing proxies in the United States with a new partner.

  “The suit is yours. I ordered it to be specifically tailored for you. You may do with it as you wish,” I answered his question in hopes that perhaps he would keep it. He did look fantastic in it. “You clean up good. Maybe you wou
ld consider keeping it.” I tried to smile at him, but pretty much given up hope.

  He blushed. “I don’t understand why you would have a custom suit made for me.”

  “Because my infiltration of your class was with the intent to recruiting you to help me with some upcoming projects. You are uniquely qualified to help me with these projects, and I tried reverse recruiting. I wanted to be under your authority to get a first-hand experience of how you operated, and how you reacted to a difficult situation. My method was flawed, and I failed miserably. I caused you an upheaval in your instruction and distracted you from the task at hand. I can apologize infinitely, and it wouldn’t cover how I’ve wronged you.” I waited for strike three.

  Instead he leaned back in the seat and stretched his legs out. “I’ve sat for too long. I need to get up.” He stood, buttoned his suit coat and turned to me. His dark green eyes met mine. “Come on, let’s walk,” and he offered me his hand.

  I took his hand. And he steadied me as I stood. I think he thought I’d drank too much. I was feeling the alcohol some, but very little. My heel actually just caught on the carpet, and caused me to wobble. I’m not always graceful. We walked to the front door and I spoke to the valet, “Gerald, would you please get my car.”

  “No wait. We just need the key, Gerald,” Tadeas said.

  Gerald handed the key to me, and Tadeas took it from him before it hit my hand. I couldn’t help but laugh at the surprised look on Gerald’s face, but Tadeas pulled out a $100 bill and handed it to him. Gerald thanked him, and we exited the restaurant.

  Tadeas looked down at the key. “Mercedes, huh?”

  “Yes, the Germans know how to build an automobile,” I replied.

  “You okay to walk?” he asked.

  “I’m not drunk, Tadeas.”

  “I didn’t imply that you were. You are wearing 4-inch heels, and I didn’t know if you would be up for it,” he explained in a way that made me feel like an idiot for defending my current state.