by AE Jones
“Damaged how?”
“Every time he thinks about what happened, he relives the pain. It is similar to the phantom pain patients experience when they lose a limb.”
I stared at the three somber faces in front of me. “So, how do we make it better?”
“I don’t know if we can make it better,” Doc said.
I shook my head. “Bull. There has to be something we can do. Misha, contact Boris and have him ask the elders what to do.”
“The Full Council has been called. Demon, vampire and shifter council leaders are on their way here right now to discuss what happened and what can be done for Joe.”
“Well then, by all means let’s go greet them.”
Jean Luc grabbed my arm. “Kyle, you need to calm down and let the councils meet first.”
Soothing warmth flowed up my arm into my shoulder. I glared at him. “Stop trying to compel me, Jean Luc.”
He dropped his hand from my arm. “I was not doing it purposely. I am worried about you.”
I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “I know. I promise to behave. I won’t do anything to keep the councils from helping Dalton. But I can’t just sit around here and wait. I have to do something.”
Jean Luc nodded. “Misha and I will go with you. We can watch the arrivals from the back dock area.”
We stood to the side watching as the various supes entered the warehouse. Between the actual leaders and their guards, a large gathering was expected, and I didn’t recognize a lot of them. Misha’s father arrived with his two guards and acknowledged us briefly before he walked into the throng.
Minutes later, shifter guards brought in a vamp in chains. It was the one Matthew had shot in my apartment. Griffin walked in behind them. Instead of joining the council members, he came over to us.
His eyes rested on my bandaged arm where Sebastian had clawed me. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Can we speak alone for a moment?”
I glanced at Jean Luc and Misha and they walked away without a protest.
Griffin began. “Matthew told me what happened at your apartment.”
“I owe him my life. Please thank him again for helping me.”
“The vampire has not said much to us, but I don’t believe he will be so closemouthed with the vampire council leaders.”
I grimaced. “The vamps need to save face after what Sebastian did. This meeting should be interesting.”
Griffin leaned closer to me and spoke in a hushed tone. “I asked Matthew if he had any idea who hired him to protect you, and he said he doesn’t know. I believe him.”
“Thank you for trying.”
“I’m sorry I could not be more help. Matthew did say he has been protecting you for months. Whoever is watching over you believes you have been in danger for some time now.”
In danger from what? I wanted to ask, but kept it to myself. Had they known Sebastian would be coming after me? Was it something else entirely? I stopped myself from dwelling on it for too long. I didn’t need to add paranoid delusions to my list of neuroses.
Griffin interrupted my thoughts. “I’m sorry about your lieutenant. If there is anything I can do, please let me know.”
I nodded, throat tightening. “Just please think of something to help him. Someone on the council should know a way to reverse the effects of a straend.”
Before Griffin could answer, Nicholas joined us. Griffin’s demeanor changed almost immediately, and he slipped on his leader hat and greeted Nicholas formally. I ignored the posturing. Every muscle in my body tensed when Josiah Akers sauntered into the room. He smirked at me as he walked over to the cluster of demon leaders.
“Why is he here?” I hissed when what I wanted to do was scream.
Nicholas answered. “He is the leader of the Pavels and one of the Council of Twelve.” Before I could protest, he continued. “We have no proof he was involved in this, Kyle. We don’t know who in his clan was at the bar with Hampton, and we probably never will.”
“I know he was part of this.”
“I can’t stand up in front of the Full Council and tell them he should be punished because of a hunch you have. If you will excuse us, I believe everyone is here and we can begin the meeting.”
Ninety minutes later I was still pacing the hallway outside Dalton’s room. Misha, in turn, was hovering over me. I stopped when Jean Luc came toward us.
“Misha, they want to speak with you next.”
“What the hell is happening in there?” I demanded as I watched Misha walk down the hall.
“There is a lot of evidence to be reviewed.” Jean Luc tried to reason with me. “Sebastian’s fledglings have not said anything helpful. They have stated Sebastian was in charge and, as their sire, was able to force them to do his bidding.”
“That’s convenient. What about Akers?”
“Akers testified he did not know what was going on. He is conducting an internal investigation to see if a Pavel was involved.”
“If! The smug bastard.”
“We have little evidence to support the Pavel story. Byron is dead, and the only others who can corroborate the story are a vagrant human and a demon who live in a back alley. Do you really want to bring them in to testify before this Council?”
I started pacing again. “What about the Majock demon we saw in the security feed?”
“Which is why Misha is with them now. They want to see the footage.”
“Have they said anything about Dalton? What can we do to help him?”
Jean Luc shook his head. “They did not talk about it while I was in the session.”
Fifteen minutes later, Misha walked back down the hallway.
“Well?” I blurted.
“They had me go through all of the case notes with them.”
“And?”
“And then they excused me and said they would be out shortly.”
“They don’t want to hear my side of the story?”
Misha shrugged. “I don’t think so.”
Before I could launch a verbal response to the ridiculousness of them not wanting to speak to me, steps echoed behind us and I whipped around. Nicholas stepped up to me and placed his hands on my shoulders. I shrugged out of his paternalistic grip.
“How can we help Dalton?”
“Let’s talk alone, Kyle.”
Before I could argue, Misha and Jean Luc disappeared into the morgue, leaving us alone in the hallway.
“What did the Council come up with to help Dalton?”
“Straends were not designed with humans in mind. They were made to interrogate demons, whose neural pathways are much more resilient. Joe had the straend attached for hours, and Doc was lucky she was able to remove it at all.”
I was having trouble absorbing what he was saying. “Answer my question, damn it!”
“The only possibility we could come up with to help Joe is in your hands.”
“What do you mean?”
“His only hope is if his memories can be erased. That should allow his pathways to repair themselves.”
Relief surged through me. “Fine, I’ll go scrub his memories of Sebastian’s torture right now.”
“It would not be enough. It isn’t just the memories of the torture that are causing the damage. The pain is also attached to particular questions Sebastian asked Joe. Any questions he asked and the memories associated with them would cause him pain.”
I took a shaky breath. Sebastian had asked him about me.
“You need to erase his memories of this case entirely. He cannot remember anything about us.”
“No! There has to be another way.”
Nicholas shook his head. “I’m sorry, but there is not.”
I backed up and glared at him. “Is it really the only solution, or is this the Council’s way of protecting themselves from Dalton? The fact that he’s the key might put a crimp in supernatural activities, right?”
Nicholas snagged
my arm and dragged me into an empty room, shutting the door. “The Council has not been told of Dalton’s possible merger with the key.”
“What? Why didn’t you tell them?”
“Because if I had, he would be in danger for the rest of his life.”
I started to protest, but Nicholas plowed over my objections. “Think about it. Look how many dead bodies Hampton and Sebastian left behind on their quest for the key. We know Pavels are involved. If the community were to find out Joe might have this key inside him, what do you think they would do then? At the very least, they would try to control him, or they might try to remove it by force.”
“This is insane.”
“It’s the world we live in. Joe needs to stay out of our world. He can’t afford to have any suspicion attached to him. And the best way to accomplish that is to make him forget. If there was any other way to guarantee both his recovery and his safety, I would recommend that instead.”
I glared at him. “I don’t trust you.”
“Let me lay it out for you in simple terms.” He lifted his hand, ticking off points on his fingers. “By erasing Joe’s memories of the events you will, one, hopefully reverse the effects of the straends and save his life. Two, stop others in the community from coming after him. And three, give us more time to figure out what this key is all about.” He took a deep breath. “I’m also trying to protect you, Kyle. It’s what I have been doing all along.”
And like that the light bulb went on. “It’s you. Matthew worked for you.”
He smirked half-heartedly. “You always have been a smart one.”
“Why did you do it?
He looked at me incredulously. “You have to ask, after what’s happened over the last few weeks?”
“But Matthew has been protecting me for months. How did you know this was going to happen?”
His face shut down. “I had been warned you were in danger.”
“By who? Some fortune teller?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m not the enemy here. In your heart you know what I’m telling you is correct. You have to let him go, Kyle.”
“Screw you.” I jerked open the door and ran into Dalton’s room. Doc was leaning over him checking his IV. He opened his eyes and they brightened when he caught sight of me. But a moment later he grimaced and writhed on the bed. Doc yelled and Jean Luc appeared in a heartbeat, holding him down while Doc gave him a sedative. I backed out of the room and stumbled down the hallway.
Chapter 43
The heart rate monitor traveled in a slow and steady rhythm across the screen. Pain pulsed through me in much the same pattern, and the longer I stayed in the room, the more erratic my breathing became. I had been sitting in this dark room watching Dalton sleep for several hours now, and I couldn’t put it off any longer.
He had been mine for only a moment in time. Now I had to make the decision to save him. For a second a small part of me toyed again with the idea of erasing only his memories of the torture and running with him. But it was a fleeting thought. Where would we go? Would Dalton want to leave everything behind just to be with me? It was not my place to make the decision for him.
I would have given anything to see those turquoise eyes one more time, but I couldn’t bear to cause him any more pain.
The group had devised a plan. Dalton would be the hero who stopped a serial killer from killing again. Jean Luc and Misha were handling the details. I had my own part to play.
I leaned forward in the chair and removed the memories, unraveling them all piece by piece. I blocked out chunks of time or replaced them with memories of Dalton working on the serial killer case by himself, sitting behind his computer and trying to piece together the clues I planted in his head.
I took away the pain of his torture, and replaced it with resolve to bring the killer to justice. The doctors would say his loss of memory was due to the trauma he suffered at the killer’s hands before Dalton was able to escape and kill him instead. As the last memory transferred to his brain, I savored our mental connection, caressing his thought patterns before I reluctantly severed our connection.
“Goodbye, Galahad,” I whispered.
I stared at him for a moment, memorizing his face, his body, his smell, and then I turned away.
I walked out into the empty hallway. He would be safe now. That was all that mattered. I rushed through the storage area and out the rear door, running to my car.
As I started my car, I caught sight of myself in the rearview mirror. Blood streamed from my nose. I sopped it up with napkins I found in my glove compartment and jammed the car into reverse. I would not cry.
My phone rang while I was driving home. It was Nicholas. I pushed the button on my sync.
“What.”
“Has it been taken care of?”
“Yes.”
“What about Captain Morrison’s memories of the case?”
“I scrubbed him hours ago. He doesn’t remember sending Dalton to work with us. He thinks he assigned Dalton to work on the serial killer case.”
“Are you okay?”
“You don’t get to ask me that.”
I hung up.
Once in my apartment, I stripped and threw myself into the shower. Standing under the pounding spray, I tried to wash away my own memories, but there was no relief. After the hot water ran out, I dressed in my terry cloth robe and stood staring at my reflection in the mirror. Roses perfumed the air.
“He’ll be okay now,” I whispered and closed my eyes. A delicate hand rested on my cheek for a moment. The doorbell rang and I opened my eyes as Dalton’s grandmother faded away with the steam in the bathroom.
I walked out to the living room and peeked through the peephole. Tony stood on the other side. Opening the door, I shook my head and backed away from it.
“I’m not hungry, Tony.”
“I know, dear. Food will not make this better.” And he held his arms out to me, wrapping me in his embrace.
My throat tightened and the tears began—endless, wracking sobs. Standing in the doorway in my bathrobe, holding on for dear life to the restaurant guy from down the street, I sobbed until my chest hurt and I had no moisture left in my body.
When I finally stopped crying, he settled me on the couch, covering me with a blanket. Sitting down in the chair next to me, he sang Italian lullabies until I fell asleep.
Chapter 44
I finally got up from the couch the following day at dawn. I had two things on my list for the day. First I called Father Brown. I wasn’t surprised he was an early riser, and he agreed to meet me in the chapel on campus. I arrived at the JCU campus early, hoping to avoid the summer students.
He was kneeling in prayer when I arrived, so I bowed my head and waited for him to finish. He stood and motioned me to join him in the front row. I sat down next to him and handed him Father Cowell’s letters.
“My name is Kyle McKinley.”
“I saw the newspaper this morning. Lieutenant Dalton is a hero.”
“Yes he is.”
“Are you here to tell me the truth, Kyle?”
I clasped my hands and started at the beginning. He said very little, letting me weave the story as I saw fit. When I finished, I waited for him to call me crazy. But he didn’t.
“I’m sorry to think David must have felt I had abandoned him in the end.”
“You have to admit, the whole thing does sound insane.”
“Is David’s killer really dead?”
“Yes.”
He stared at me for a moment. “What has changed to make you trust me now to keep your secret?”
I took a deep breath. No more lying. “I promised I would tell you the truth. But I can’t let you remember it. For your own safety, I’m going to make you forget what happened. You will not remember me, you’ll only remember meeting with Dalton about the serial killer case.”
“Before you erase my memory, I have another part of the
translation for you. The first few sentences in the second stanza.”
“What is it?”
He pulled a paper out of his pocket and unfolded it, reading the newest excerpt aloud.
“‘The war will be long
And fraught with treachery
The path will be riddled with fallen
And the key will change hands’”
He refolded the paper and handed it to me, clasping my hands. “I’m sorry you feel you have to go through this alone.”
I nodded and smiled, tears blurring my vision. I concentrated and created new memories that I pushed toward him. The warmth cascaded over my senses and my energy flowed silkily around his brain waves.
After a couple of minutes I stood and he touched my wrist to stop me. “I thought you were going to erase my memories?”
I stared at him in disbelief and plunked back down in the seat. After two more tries, I realized it was useless. I couldn’t make him forget. I had only encountered a couple of humans over the years whose memories I couldn’t change, and apparently the Fates had decided Father Brown would be another. Crap. Maybe the angels were messing with me. I told him what his story needed to be and he promised to follow it to the letter.
He also promised to continue to work on the translation for me. But we could not be seen together in public, since he was not supposed to remember me. He pushed a small volume into my hand.
“Take this, you may find it of some comfort. God has given you your gift for a reason, Kyle, don’t forget that.”
He left me alone in the chapel, and I sat for a while. I wasn’t sure what I should do with my life. I hadn’t decided yet if I could ever work for Nicholas again.
I ran my thumb over the textured cover of the small book I still clutched in my hand, then opened the cover and paged through what turned out to be the Psalms. I continued to flip the pages until I came to an excerpt in Latin. I stared at it for a moment and the words changed before my eyes.
I could read them.
I dropped the book on the chair with a hard smack which echoed through the chapel. How could I understand Latin? I vacillated between running like a scared rabbit and picking up the book again. Maybe I was hallucinating? I opened the book again before I could chicken out, flipping through some more pages. I found a Latin verse and stared at it like it was a Rorschach test. After a couple of seconds, I breathed a sigh of relief. I could not read the passage. My imagination must have been in overdrive.
