Beloved Evangeline (A Dark Paranormal Urban Fantasy Trilogy for Grown-ups - Book 1)

by W. C. Anderson

  The next morning, I woke on my bed, the first morning rays beaming on my face, warming me only slightly. Simon wasn’t there; the other side of the bed didn’t even look slept in. It had been a dream. Of course it had. Still, though, it had been a fantastically passionate, vividly realistic x-rated dream, and I’d planned to keep drowsing in bed, daydreaming about it for the rest of the morning, or maybe even the whole day. I had earned some rest, hadn’t I?

  I had enjoyed a very intense dream about a perfect night of love-making with Simon, who I knew to despise me. I’d finally come to grips about my feelings for him, which must’ve been the inspiration. Whatever the cause, I had really outdone myself last night. My dreams weren’t usually so imaginative. They were mostly reruns of my life experiences—no surprises.

  But last night was very different, very intense. I couldn’t stop replaying the memory of my night with Simon. Of course it was all too good to be true. Regardless, I stretched comfortably and repositioned myself just so to in order to reach the untouched, refreshingly cool areas of my sheets, and prepared to enjoy a lovely daydream. Instead, I heard footfall down the hall.

  I kept my eyes closed to prolong this added bonus of my daydream—hallucinating that he could really still be here. The footsteps reached the side of my bed, and I heard a thud on the night table. My hair was being brushed out of my face very gently, and then the bed depressed. It was then that I decided it was time to open my eyes.

  “Hey there, sleepyhead.” Simon kissed my forehead. “I brought you some tea. I picked out English breakfast... wasn’t sure which kind you liked. There was quite a variety in there. How are you feeling?”

  Was he really here? I hadn’t dreamt everything that happened last night?

  His forehead creased slightly when I didn’t answer him. “Look, it’s okay if you’re having second thoughts, now—I’ll understand. Last night was really crazy, in a very sexy, unimaginably amazing way, but I won’t hold you to anything you said if you’ve changed your mind. I think I might’ve pressured you into it, just a little bit.”

  “Am I still dreaming?”

  “What?” He laughed, “Are you really not awake yet?” Simon teased, “I mean, you did only sleep the whole day away... it’s nearly dark...”

  Strange how I’d thought it’d been the beginning of the day, when it was really near the end. This realization gave me an unusual feeling of confusion... and a strange sense of foreboding. I shrugged off the thought.

  Simon raised his eyebrows at my utter confusion.

  “Last night... we really...?” was the only semi-coherent response I could utter.

  “You know that’s insulting... on the other hand, maybe that’s a compliment...” Simon pondered, “if you’re so dazed that you don’t remember, or even better, if I’d actually induced some sort of amnesia, I guess that it’d be quite an accomplishment,” Simon grinned and nodded impressively.

  “Hey,” I pushed his side. He reached down to kiss me, and that was all it took. There was no stopping—I was officially out of control. Poor Simon didn’t stand a chance. At least my secret wish was going to be fulfilled after all; my daydream did get the chance to replay itself.

  Several hours later I was in the shower when Simon stepped in, his expression grave.

  “Do want to tell me now why you were so tired last night that you practically passed out after only round number two? I had high hopes of going all night.” He smiled mournfully as his voice turned dark. “So tired that you didn’t even wake when I carried you to bed? I didn’t sleep all night. I was so afraid you weren’t going to wake up—that I should’ve been taking you to a hospital or something. I had the phone ready, waiting to dial 911 the moment you stopped breathing. You slept so peacefully, so quiet and still that I actually held a mirror to your nose several times. Or you could tell me how the bruises that were all over your body yesterday are practically gone today? What happened after I left?” He lightly touched the vanishing welts on my arm, “Or tell me, at the very least, how and why you managed an escape from the hospital?”

  It was just too much, I felt overwhelmed. Rather than trying to fashion some sort of answers to his questions, I just stepped out of the shower, wrapping myself in a towel. But Simon turned off the water and followed me, naked and dripping, down the hallway.

  “Please don’t shut me out again, Evangeline. I want to know everything, absolutely everything. It’s too late for you to run.”

  I turned back to him. “You sure about that?” I whispered, afraid now to meet his eyes.

  He wrapped his arms around me. “Yes,” he replied simply. He tilted my chin to meet his gaze. “You couldn’t possibly scare me away now.” He smiled his most mischievous smile. “Maybe before last night and just now in your room, but not now.”

  He caressed my face and tried to smooth my furrowed brow. Simon was trying very hard to make light of this darkness surrounding me, and though I really appreciated the gesture, it was just not something that could be easily laughed away. I gazed up at him uncertainly. My chest began to ache at just the thought of losing him. I’d really messed up this time. The wall around had crumbled momentarily, and Simon had been let in. I was in much too deep with him to turn back now, though, despite the fact he’d probably turn from me and run out the door once he had the full disclosure. Nevertheless, he deserved to know exactly what he was getting himself into. Of course, I should’ve probably told him everything last night before we’d gotten to know each other quite so well.

  I led him to the couch and snuggled next to him. I wanted to have this one last intimate moment before losing him forever. Hugging his chest tightly, I told him every last detail. He remained perfectly silent during all of it, taking in all of it. I continued well into the night; I told him absolutely everything—the ravine, my mother, dying, almost everything. Talking about Jack felt too weird, so I held those bits in. When my story finally reached its conclusion, Simon looked at me thoughtfully.

  “I think we should order pizza and... whipped cream. I really have a craving. What do you think they’ll say when I tell them I need whipped cream delivered?” He smiled.

  I reached up and kissed him.

  Stopping short as a memory nagged at me, I asked, “Hey, are you the one who finished my reports and told that story to Mr. Oxley?”

  He grinned his mischievous grin. “I talked to Oxley, yeah. But it took all four of us, me, Gavin, Nicky, and Lyle, to go through that enormous pile of research and figure out SPSS. Honestly, I don’t see how you can stand to do that every day—I would go insane.”

  “What about the police, at my grandfather’s house or—when I died—did you call them?” I pressed on.

  He shook his head. “No. I don’t know anything about your grandfather’s house. When you were in the hospital—I think the hospital called your dad, he called Nicky, Nicky called me.”

  I puzzled only for a moment. We stayed up all night, talking and laughing. Maybe this could work. I drifted off to sleep that night in his arms.

  34.

  Three months later…

  I awoke on a Saturday in a blissful early morning haze. The last few months had been the most wonderful of my entire life. No more shadow. No more sleepless nights. And Simon had unofficially moved in with me right after that first amazing night we spent together. The two of us were completely inseparable. I still couldn’t believe it, even after three months, but it did seem, as Simon was constantly reminding me, that the two of us were meant to be together.

  I smiled at this thought and rolled over to wrap myself around him.

  Instead, I found his side of the bed empty. Probably making my tea. I threw off the covers with playful delight and tiptoed to the kitchen, my heart bursting. We’d taken to sneak attacking one another, like Inspector Clousseau and Cato. I rounded to launch the attack, but I found the kitchen deserted. That was odd, a marked change from our normal routine. I inspected the rest of the house, just to be sure, but I could feel now that he was
not at home.

  It was then that I spied it: a note, folded with care, at the very center of the coffee table.

  My left hand began to twitch. Calm down, I told myself, probably just a note letting me know he’s gone to the store or to run an errand of some kind... But my natural instincts betrayed these words of self comfort. I knew in my heart what the note was going to say before I opened it.

  Simon was gone.

  I opened the note slowly, my hands trembling, and read it with a painfully uncomfortable lump forming in my throat:

  My Dearest Evangeline,

  Please don’t be angry with me. I AM NOT LEAVING YOU. I never will. I am not afraid for myself. But the only way for us to truly be together is for me to be stronger than I am now. I wasn’t exaggerating when I told you that I can’t breathe without you. I can’t bear to even think about the time when, and I know this time will come, when you deem your lifestyle too dangerous, and begin closing yourself off to me, shutting me out. Again. So I spoke to someone who knows about these kinds of things, about where his journeys lead him. He drew up a map and told me where one could go to find some people that can help me. I know it sounds silly, but this person told me where one could, hypothetically, go to find those that can make me more than what I am now. Don’t worry, he thinks this information was for your... special duties, so he had no idea of my plans when he revealed his secrets to me.

  I’m not going to make the same mistakes Jack made. I know exactly what I need to do. This is the only way I know to be invulnerable, unbreakable. I want to be with you always, and I don’t want to see that crease in your forehead anymore as you constantly worry about what might be coming for me. The only reason I’m even telling you is because I couldn’t bear for you to think, even for a moment, that I’d abandoned you like the others. I knew you’d try to follow me, so I timed it just right. A letter came from your grandfather’s lawyer yesterday. You’re to go to South America tomorrow. Apparently Jonathan was right about one thing—there are many worse people out there. I know you will go—children are going missing in droves from villages in Belize, Venezuela, and northern Brazil. The letter and plane ticket are on the kitchen counter, behind the sugar canister, and beneath a small going away present I left there for you. You cannot follow me now, and I’ll probably be back before you are. When I do return, we’ll be able to go on those adventures together. I’ll be strong enough to protect you then. Please consider my feelings, my darling; could you sit idly on the sidelines, worrying about me, if the situation were reversed?

  I know this is the right thing to do, but it doesn’t ease the pain in my heart. I don’t want to be apart from you, but at the same time, I cannot stand to think of our time together as temporary. So I have to do this now, to make me strong enough so that I can assure nothing can ever take you from me.

  All my love, now and always,

  Simon

  P.S. Don’t even think about trying to find out where I am. I left another note for my accomplice this morning, too, telling him everything. He won’t tell you, so don’t bother. Just go do what you need to do now, and please, please, come home safe to me.

  I clutched the note to my chest and shuffled robotically toward the kitchen, not exactly knowing why, except for a feeling in my heart telling me to stop thinking, to disallow the knowledge of the logical course of events that would follow Simon’s decision. I had to block out those thoughts for my sanity. In the kitchen, behind the canister, I found a small box, exactly as Simon left it. Inside was a sparkling platinum bracelet. It was an extremely beautiful linked bracelet with a single charm dangling from it. I held the charm in my palm—a custom made, expertly replicated, miniature leaf… exactly matching the birch tree from the ravine. On the back was an inscription:

  My Beloved Evangeline, May you never lose your way again. Forever yours, Simon

  I was nearly knocked off my feet. I clutched the kitchen counter to steady myself.

  Without thinking, I grasped the Coptic cross from Jack around my neck, turning it over in my hands. Horror steadily rising within me—body trembling—I forced myself to read the inscription on the back, as I had not done in ages:

  My Beloved Evangeline, This way I can be with you—always. Jack

  I couldn’t breathe. Pain and nausea rolled over me in equal measures. A strange sensation began in the pit of my stomach, unlike anything I’d ever experienced. I had nothing left in me to fight off the assault of dark thoughts and imagery ravaging my mind. I had just enough time to think that this is what comes of dropping my guard, letting someone in, when the cabinets began to sway around me. I tried clearing my head, focusing on the kitchen window, but the trees outside were standing in the wrong direction. Before I could make sense of it, the tile came rushing at me, slamming into the side of my head with brutal force.