Knowing that he needed to get back to the office, he gave his closest friend a nod in the direction of the sofas, seeking moral support in disrupting Amanda and her sister. He didn’t want to simply slip away without assuring her that everything was going to be taken care of. It would not have been professional and he had to keep it clear in his head that he was there because she had hired him to find out what had happened to her father. Nothing else mattered.
‘Are you alright, Amanda?’ he asked as he got back into the eye-line.
‘No,’ the younger sister shook her head, almost in a daze. ‘Not really.’
Of course not. Stupid question.
‘I need to get back to the office,’ he stated, deciding to simply relay as much information as he needed to. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to come back tomorrow, as soon as I have some news back from Olivia so that I can take another look through your Dad’s research papers.’
Amanda nodded, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘Whatever you need.’
‘I’m really sorry that you had to see that.’
‘Thank-you, Parker,’ she smiled, mutedly. ‘I’m glad that you were here.’
With a nod, he turned and left the lounge, deciding not to hang around to find out if the woman that had been sitting beside her was going to say goodnight. It was unlike him to let the jovial prodding of his friend affect him but he was acutely aware of the perceptive brown eyes that had been watching him as he wrapped things up. It was ridiculous. He was not eighteen years old anymore and there were much more important things at stake than his personal life.
Martha Ford… Sorry, Valentine as she now called herself, would still be there tomorrow.
He foolishly hoped.
Chapter 16
Martha barely slept, the events of the evening weighing heavy on her mind. After Walsh had taken her sister to get some sleep, she had wandered around the house for a long time, telling herself that she was checking the doors and windows out of habit rather than because of the cold lump of fear that had settled heavy in her stomach. Her family were in danger. She knew it with as much certainty as she knew that her sister’s grief-fuelled assumptions had been right.
Mr. Ford’s death was not an accident. Something had killed him. Something powerful enough to almost successfully cover its tracks and get away with murder.
Martha would be lying to herself if she wasn’t leaning towards one of the possibilities that Olivia had casually thrown about, even if she agreed that the kind of fiends that the pagan had described were merely scavengers who did not have enough power to rebrand the circle in the way that it had been protectively warded. It was simply too much of a coincidence and she really did not believe in those. Trouble was coming. She could sense it in the air.
Now she had to work out what she going to do to protect her family.
The sensible strategy would be to wait and see what the seemingly very capable staff of MPIA could do about the power circle but when she allowed herself to consider who her sister’s investigator was, it made her all the more afraid. Even though it had become clear that Michael Parker was not naïve when it came to the darker, and more unusual, realities of living in a place like Marytown, the thought of him putting himself in the path of the monsters that she knew were out there was absolutely unbearable. She couldn’t risk his safety any more than she could Gale or Amanda’s. Her enemies were powerful and much too brutal and she would die a million deaths before she let any more harm come to the people that she loved.
Nothing she had ever done felt even remotely as important as keeping them safe but in her heart she knew that, as adept as she had become, she had arrived in Marytown woefully unprepared. The skills that she had developed were impressive but she was overwhelmed. Too many of her heartstrings were being stretched and after years of forcing herself to care only for herself, she was not sure she could handle the strain.
Sitting on the cushion stool at her mother’s bedside once more, she watched the widow sleep. Martha did not like the word breakdown but she could not think of another way to describe what had happened to the wonderful woman that have given her life. It was a period of mourning so intense that it had rendered her catatonic but it could not be permanent, the damage could be repaired. She had to believe that the woman she adored was still buried somewhere inside of her broken shell. There had to be a way to bring her back but, as much as it made her chest ache, Martha knew that her mother’s condition could not be her priority. Not after what they had found in her dead husband’s study. Gale was deeply traumatised but she was alive and Martha intended for it to remain that way. She would not let her mother simply slip away before she had a chance to tell her how grateful she was for everything that had gone right in her life.
Martha knew what she wanted to do, she simply wasn’t sure it was going to be possible. There had been a lot of complications threaded into the plan that had brought her back to town and what she now needed would likely cause more trouble but it would be worth it. There was nothing that she would not do to see her mother protected from whatever danger was lurking on the horizon. Actions had consequences and she was not so naïve as to think that what she intended to do would not have repercussions. Whatever the consequence, it would be done. The woman that raised her would expect no less and neither would the male that she would need to enlist the aid of. After all, he had once done the same for her. Explicitly aware of the fallout, his actions had been swift, without mercy. The targets of his wrath were dead and her virtue avenged before he had even learned her name because he had thought her worthy of his sacrifice.
And for Martha Valentine, there was nobody more worthy than Gale.
Reluctantly leaving her mother for the second time that evening, she crept back along the hallway and into her old room, stopping only briefly enough for her to grab something that she would need before retrieving her jacket and boots and heading through the ground floor of the house, through the kitchen and out of the back door, which she had snagged the key for.
The back garden was perfectly preened, a testament to Gale Ford’s green fingers, which had seemingly stayed with her throughout the years. The flowerbeds were well-maintained, full to the brim with arrangements that many a florist would be proud of. Perfectly preened, the lawn was long and narrow, lush but not overgrown. It was damp beneath Martha’s boots, leaving soft imprints in the grass as she crossed it, heading past the small garden pond for the high, perimeter fence. Once she reached the end of the garden, she affixed the black leather sheath that contained her prized dagger to her belt at the small of her back and skilfully propelled herself up and over into the small alleyway that ran along behind the Ford property line.
The walk out of Marytown was uneventful. She stuck to small back streets, avoiding all possibility of coming into contact with anybody. It wasn’t difficult. So late at night, the streets were pretty much deserted, the residents of the allegedly serene, quaint town tucked up safely in their beds and homes. Martha envied them. She was far away from home, even further from her own bed and doubted she would ever feel safe again unless her family was protected.
It took less than twenty minutes to get out of town and into the surrounding hills. In the light of day, Martha recalled them as being beautiful, a ramblers dream. She’d spent a long time in these woods but it was a memory of last time that she was here that was freshest in her mind, after she was rescued from the fiends that had stolen so much of her life away from her. It had been a little bit later in the day than this, just before dawn. She had not been alone but she had been afraid, knowing that the hills were where monsters like the ones that had taken her waited.
It was that morning, as the sun rose over the horizon, that she was shown why it was not possible for her to ever go home. Marytown was surrounded and its evil vanguards watched and waited for males like the one at her side to return and breach the boundary that separated their posts from the town below so that their masters could claim the cursed land for
themselves.
The only thing stopping them was a centuries old agreement known as The Pact.
An agreement that Martha was now planning to stealthily circumvent.
After all it had been done before. She was hoping that it could be done again.
The meeting point was tucked away into the hillside on a curling, narrow road. The small white-walled building was two storeys tall, with decorative black edging to make it appear much older than it actually was. An expansive gravel car park lay adjacent, a testament to the public house’s popularity. In the depths of the night, it was currently closed for business but that didn’t matter to Martha. Her friend had not picked out the location because he enjoyed the taste of its bar snacks. They had chosen it because it was strategically important.
She couldn’t see him from the road but that did not surprise her. Stefan wouldn’t want to be seen loitering around a public building after dark and he was not exactly easy to miss. Doing a full circle, she scanned the area and still couldn’t figure out where he could be, which made her chest immediately start to tighten. So close to the border, there was the ugly possibility that he could be targeted for sport. She did not know if the vanguards felt any loyalty towards their dead but if they did, they would surely love to get their hands on the warrior who had decimated so many of their ilk and gotten away with it because, as far as anybody of any note was concerned, they struck first when they took her and everybody wanted to avoid another war.
Worrying was ridiculous. Martha knew that Stefan could more than handle himself and did not really care if lesser enemies came after him. Thinning the herd could also work in their favour, create an opening for them to exploit. If they were careful about it.
‘Martha.’
She turned around, facing the woodland opposite the pub and felt an instant rush of relief that left her momentarily feeling exhausted. It had been a long, long night and it was far from over and while she knew she could not collapse into a heap any time soon, she allowed herself a moment to breathe before crossing the road and going to one of the most influential people that she had in her life. Not that she could exactly call him a person. He was so much more than that.
If Gale Ford had laid the foundations of the woman that her daughter was destined to become, then Stefan North had become the keystone that, once she allowed herself to be rebuilt, held all of her pieces together. She had not made it so far by herself and could never find the sentiment to express her gratitude but it was more than that. Martha had grown to admire the simplicity of his detached, professional way and the unique existence that they shared because it had enabled her to not only recover in safety and gain her own strength but to develop her own way while he watched her back and committed himself to a life as her pragmatic protector.
Taller and more muscular than any human male she had ever met, Stefan always cut an impressive figure and this night was no exception as he stood against the backdrop of windswept darkness. He was dressed for the weather, his military jacket the same cut as the one that Martha wore, zippered shut over what was extremely likely to be a fitted t-shirt and dark khaki trousers. His deep black hair, shoulder length and wavy, was tied back in a knot, baring a face that could easily be considered handsome if he was not always so stern. Eyes that were diamond clear and just as sharp watched her as she approached. Martha knew that they were inherited from his father, which singled him out as the most exalted of his brethren but every now and then they were capable of a warmth that was unbecoming to his status as a tough, unyielding warrior.
‘Less than twelve hours,’ he stated, as she reached him. ‘I’m most impressed.’
‘I wish I could tell you that it was as simple as that but I can’t stay for long,’ she sadly informed him. ‘The situation is worse than I thought and I’m afraid that I need your help.’
He stared at her for a long time before sighing, in what to Martha felt a lot like frustration and then he turned from her, muttering a commanding, ‘Walk with me.’
Not knowing what else to do, she followed him into the tree line. As uncomfortable as this encounter was likely to get, she did not feel as apprehensive now that she was back in his presence. They were about as safe as they were going to be while they were able to watch each other’s backs. None of their enemies in the area would be foolish enough to engage. If they were being watched, it was more likely they would merely be observed until they made a move worth doing something about. Which Martha hoped would be sooner rather than later.
‘Tell me about your findings,’ Stefan urged as they finally reached a small clearing in the trees. He had seemingly been waiting there for a while, judging by the track marks in the sodden leaves on the ground. Waiting and pacing. Back and forth. A lot.
‘My mother’s husband is dead.’
He hesitated, as if momentarily taken aback. ‘My condolences.’
‘I don’t really care about that,’ Martha stated with brutal honestly. ‘However, my sister is a mess and my mother is catatonic. Also, before he died, he did something that has put my entire family at risk. They’re in real danger, Stefan. I’m very worried.’
‘Tell me everything that you know.’
She did, including the MPIA investigation, the discovery of the strange power circle and everything that it implied, adding, ‘I don’t know for certain that he summoned what I think he might have but I can’t take that risk. Not with my family. Not with the life of my mother.’
Stefan deduced, ‘You believe that our enemies may target them?’
‘If this is going to get as bad as I think that it could, I am confident in my own ability to assess the situation and deal with it accordingly. But being here… I can’t give everybody that I care about my undivided attention. I can’t protect them all by myself. Amanda is stubborn. She won’t leave until she has answers about her father’s death and I wouldn’t want to make her. I know that I can keep her safe if I need to and she has somebody in her life who I’m confident can if I cannot. But my mother…’ She swallowed hard. ‘My mother is weak and she is vulnerable.’
‘And that vulnerability makes her a target,’ he agreed with her assessment. ‘You believe her to be a weakness, the way a corrupting force could infiltrate your family’s home.’
‘It’s what I would do.’
‘What exactly are you expecting me to do about your dilemma?’ he asked. ‘I cannot be at your side because of The Pact. My presence will only paint a greater target on your mother.’
‘I don’t want you be her bodyguard,’ Martha explained her plan. ‘I want you get her the hell out of here. I don’t want her in Marytown. I want her safe. At least until I know for absolute certain that she is not going to be made into a target by her husband’s mess.’
He stared at her hard, seriously. ‘You do realise what you are saying, Martha?’
‘I know. And I wouldn’t dare dream to make such a decision on her behalf but she’s my mother, Stefan. I don’t care what they think about me back at The Mount. She’s my mother.’
‘I understand that. You know that I do. But unless you plan on bringing her across the border to me, putting her in significant danger in the process, I cannot help you.’
‘Yes, you can,’ she stated, bluntly. ‘I am going to give you an opening to go and get her.’
‘An opening?’ The looked that crossed his brow was somewhere between confusion and disappointment. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘You’ll know it when I do it,’ she replied enigmatically, not wanting to give him cause to stop or talk her out of it. ‘Please, Stefan. You know that I would never ask you to do something reckless. I’ve thought this through, it can work and may be the only chance my mother has.’
In a movement that surprised her, he raised a gloved hand, brushing a wayward wave of hair from her left eye and tucking it behind her ear. The touch appeared intimate but as with any physical contact that ever occurred between the two of them, it was fleeting. They rarely touched and never
skin-on-skin. It was not what their relationship was about.
‘You are letting your emotions overwhelm you,’ he commented, something akin to sadness in his tone. ‘You have exhausted yourself and your control.’
‘It’s not like that.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s just different here.’
‘You’re different here.’
‘No, I’m not,’ she retorted but the quickness of his surety made her hesitate. ‘Things are a bit raw at the moment. It’s understandable. My family are grieving and they haven’t seen me for over a decade. There are a lot of personal feelings being aired and every one of them is just. I will not bury my humanity because it displeases you, Stefan. Not here and not now.’
‘Martha…’ He looked taken aback. ‘I would never suggest that you bury your humanity. I simply worry when you struggle. You know that I do not care about you being a half-breed.’
She let out a noise of sheer disgust. ‘I really hate that word.’
‘As you should,’ he concurred. ‘You are less human now than you’ve ever been.’
Martha did not know about that. Right then, she felt very human. Exhausted, afraid and so very human. Her shoulders dropped and she looked down at her feet, pouting softly. Stefan would most likely judge even that to be a sign of weakness but she couldn’t make herself care.
The lingering silence was filled with unhappiness and Martha was not sure that all of it belonged to her. Stefan, usually so naturally controlled in his disposition, seemed to be lacking his own calculated levels of control. The evidence of his previous pacing could attest to such and Martha felt guilty that she was coming to him with her personal demands when the location was probably as difficult for him to be back in as it was for her. She felt the tug of the bond that had formed between them, her deep-rooted desire to make him proud. She knew that she could be stubborn at even the best of times and that her tenacity simultaneously irked him as much as it was a quality that he admired. They had clashed before over personal differences, moral stances and their various opinions and most of the time it was her that ultimately relented because she knew that he was more experienced, less impulsive and ultimately her mentor.
Sins of the Father (Bloody Marytown Book 1) Page 11
