by Angel Lawson
“Back off,” I told the kids, praying they would listen. I needed time to figure out how to deal with them all. The children snapped their teeth, biting at the air. A scuffle broke out between two of them and they fell to the ground forgetting me and attacking one another. Three others dove at my legs and waist. I swatted them away, tossing them back toward the lodge.
“Grant!” Ryan shouted over their heads. I spun and found him surrounded, also batting them away, like a batter in a cage. “We gotta do something!”
He was right, we couldn’t do this all night. Elijah couldn’t get away and we were losing valuable time. I narrowed my eyes at the large lodge up ahead. It looked like a meeting place—probably where the campers all gathered together.
I waved my hand in the direction of the building and shouted, “This way—follow me!”
I pushed through the sea of children, kicking them off my body as I moved to the lodge. Once I broke free I raced ahead, Elijah and Ryan close on my trail.
At the top of the steps, Elijah said, “What are you doing? This just traps us in the middle of the campground.”
“I have a plan. See if you can find something flammable.”
They scattered and I went to the back of the building, finding what I was looking for. The kitchen. I ran over to the large, industrial sized stove and studied the front. Red levers indicated the gas, and I switched them on, one at a time. A hiss came from the stove top as the noxious odor quickly filled the room.
I met the others in the main room. The fledglings had started pushing their way into the front door. Gesturing to the others, we made our way to the back of the building, toward a double set of glass doors.
Elijah sniffed the air. “Did you light the gas?”
Ryan looked down at the lighter fluid and matches in his hands and said, “Planning on blowing us all up?”
“No. I plan on blowing them up.” They both gave me skeptical looks. “We have no choice. We have to make their deaths look like some sort of horrific tragedy.”
“Like, entire boys camp demolished by explosion?” Elijah said, shaking his head. Two cans of gasoline sat at his feet. It would be enough.
“Got a better idea?”
“No.” He sighed. “And if we die trying?”
“Then we did our jobs. Protecting humans. Keeping our secret safe.”
“Let’s do this then,” Ryan said, taking out a couple of kids nearby, snapping their necks to temporality immobilize them.
“Elijah, go out the back window. Make sure everyone is inside and pour gasoline all around the building.”
We fought relentlessly, biding time until everyone was inside. The room was at maximum capacity and packed into such tight quarters, the fledglings forgot about us and began fighting one another. I spotted a boy in the crowd walking toward me. His eyes were pitch black and nothing took him off track. He seemed completely focused. On me.
“What’s that kid doing?” Ryan asked.
“I don’t know.”
I heard a tap behind us and Elijah’s face appeared in the window. “They’re all in.”
Ryan jumped and landed cat-like on the ground. He looked up at me and I said, “Just a minute.”
“One minute,” he said, dividing the supplies to light the fire.
I redirected my attention to the boy, the only one not in the fray. The others tugged at his shirt, snapped their teeth in his direction, but he kept moving, never taking his eyes off me.
“Grant!” I heard Elijah shout but I couldn’t take my eyes off the kid.
The boy approached. I saw his dark wavy hair and scuffed hiking boots. He wore a T-shirt that said, ‘Camp Greenwood’ with an image of a beaver across the chest. He moved closer, bumping into those fighting around him. When he finally stopped, my back was pressed against the window and I could almost feel the hunger trembling through his body as he attempted to maintain control.
“Where is she?” I asked.
“Tick-tock.”
I frowned. “What did you say?”
“Tick-tock. Tick-tock.” He smiled, flesh caught between his teeth. “Time is running out.”
“Look, kid, you’re the one running out of time. Where is she?”
The kid looked away from my neck and tapped his temple. “I already told you.”
Jesus. Caleb scrambled his head.
“Tick-tock,” he chanted. “She looked very scared.”
“Who? Olivia?”
He nodded. “She looked sad. Not like the others.”
“What others?”
“The other people that did this to me.”
I shook him, hoping to shake some sense in him but his eyes glazed and he muttered under his breath. A thought popped in my head and I asked, “Is he in your head? Now? Is Caleb talking to you?”
The boy laughed, high pitched and hysterical. “He said it would take you forever to figure it out. Because you’re so arrogant. He wants you to know that he’s coming for Amelia and then he’ll kill the rest of your family, too.”
At the mention of Amelia’s name my patience wore to its final thread. With my hands clasped around his neck, I jumped out the window, crashing through the glass and landing hard on the ground.
“We have to do this,” Elijah said. His eyes never left me and the kid.
“Give me the lighter fluid,” I said.
Ryan handed it over and with one hand still restraining the kid, I poured the accelerant all over his head. He fought against me, but I held tight.
“Now,” I growled and Ryan lit a match. I picked the fledgling up and tossed him back into the broken window. We started running before he landed—before he even knew what was happening. With a fast flick, Ryan tossed the match and followed him, landing on his wet, dripping body.
We were at the edge of the forest when he burst into flames.
We were halfway down the mountain when the building exploded, shaking the ground under our feet.
A vehicle passed us as we raced down the gravel road and Ryan realized first that it was Sebastian in his banged up Jeep. Fear reared inside. The last time I saw the Jeep it had been in one piece and I’d put Amelia inside.
“Hey!” Ryan shouted, chasing after this brother.
I started to follow but Elijah’s hand clamped around my elbow and stopped me. “What did he say?” he asked.
“We’re running out of time.”
Tick-tock.
~*~
Sebastian assured me she was fine. Safe. She was at home with Genevieve.
He spoke with sincerity. I believed him, but I also smelled her blood on the upholstery of the front seat. I found it imbedded in the sharp points of the shattered glass on the floorboards. Something terrible had happened.
At the house, Genevieve and Miles met us in the kitchen. One look at Elijah’s face, our dirty clothes, and healing wounds told them things had gone too far. We hadn’t found Olivia.
“Where is she?” I asked, the second I walked in the door.
“She’s fine,” Genevieve replied. “Upstairs.”
I started to move toward the stairs but Miles stopped me and said, “There’s no way to keep this from The Council.”
“No,” I agreed. “We did our best to cover it up, but what Caleb did was beyond depraved. So many families were affected by this. So many lives lost.”
“Why did he do it?” Genevieve asked. She seemed truly confused.
“He’s a sadistic bastard. He needed a diversion—something big to keep us all occupied while he took Olivia.”
“Plus he thinks it’s funny,” Ryan added.
“Amelia’s upstairs?” I clarified, having held off as long as I could. The truth was that I was conflicted about seeing her. Part of me wanted to bask in the last moment we had together. I didn’t want to do what had to be done.
“Yes. She needed to clean up,” Genevieve said, eyeing me.
I looked down at my hands, my clothes. Every inch of my body reeked of death and smoke. My shoes we
re drenched in lighter fluid.
I started up the stairs, leaving the others to deal with The Council. Miles grabbed my arm and said, "We're headed back to Black Mountain. Make sure the house is secure."
“You’ll talk to the Shifters about helping us find Olivia?”
“Yes, and meet with them soon. I’ll call you when I have new information. This camp thing is going to be a PR nightmare.”
I glanced over his shoulder at Elijah who looked so tense—so sad—I thought he may crumble right there in the kitchen. I nodded in his direction and said, “Take care of him.”
“Of course,” Miles said, but Ryan caught my eye and I knew he had it under control. We would find Olivia and destroy Caleb, but first I had something to do.
"Yes. I'll see you tomorrow. I need to deal with some things here," I explained.
Again I turned to leave, but Sebastian pulled me aside and said, "She's tough, Grant, more than you think. She held her own tonight.”
His words should have made me feel better but it only solidified that Amelia was amazing. Unique. She was perfect and all I had brought into her life was pain and suffering.
The coven left and I secured the house, ignoring the lure of her heartbeat. Quickly I showered, removing any evidence of the fight with the fledglings. I wiped the fog off the mirror, inspecting the fading scars from their sharp teeth and nails. We had no choice, I told myself. Regardless, I felt out of options. Completely out of control. Caleb had completely shaken my faith in myself.
Drying off, I entered the dressing room. I pulled on T-shirt and a pair of pants before heading to Amelia's room. I could hear the steady rhythm of her heart and soft breathing from the hallway. I dreaded the talk I knew we must have, every silent step bringing me that much closer to her.
As was usual, Amelia didn't wake when I entered. I quietly lowered myself to the chair facing the bed and assessed her wounds. Small cuts peppered her face, clearly from where the car window shattered. Hot bruises lined her arms and throat. I didn’t like it—not one but she seemed okay. She’d fought a vampire and won. A feeling of pride beat out the worry in my chest.
Sighing, I sat back in the seat and observed her in a heavy silence. Watching Amelia sleep was as close to true rest as I'd ever had in this life. My body slowed to her pacing, and I found myself matching my breaths to her steady, lulling rhythms.
I loved this woman so entirely, with every fiber of my being, and finally knew the joy of having it returned with certainty. Her declaration over at the Biltmore gardens had filled every hole in my century-old soul. She mended the scars and vacancies that I hadn't even known to exist. I felt a profound sense of hope standing over the magnificent grounds that, for once. I was swimming instead of drowning.
All of that changed with one phone call.
The love that had filled me earlier in the evening began to ache painfully. I'd been foolish to think I could have her. That I could simply grasp that possibility and believe she had any chance of remaining safe. Sure she came out ahead in the attack tonight but if Olivia couldn't protect herself, there was little hope for Amelia in Caleb’s maddening game.
On the Jeep ride home, after seeing the true extent of Caleb’s ability to destroy the lives of so many just to get to me, I made a decision. There was no way I could risk her falling to his whims. I had to cut her free before he dragged her to hell with the rest of us. I thought I could protect her. That she would be safe with me or one of the others. I had a coven, not a gang of fighters. I’d spent weeks locking her away under the guise of safety, but in reality, I had only been delaying the inevitable. As long as she was with me, her life was at risk, in constant danger.
That was no longer an option.
I heard Amelia shift beneath the sheets, sighing softly. I moved to the edge of the bed, lowering myself next to her fragile, warm body and I knew she’d cycled into another one of her dreams. Her bottom lip quivered and she released a tight sob. My heart ached for her pain, wanting to jump into her mind and save her from her nightmares. I stroked her arm lightly, barely making contact, but she whispered a hushed, "Grant," knowing even in her sleep that I was close.
My heart skipped a false beat at the sound of my name being murmured from her lips. I placed my thumb across the dark pink flesh, rubbing it gently as I had all those times before in an effort to calm her. I wanted my mouth on hers, I wanted her delicate body in my arms forever, and I wanted to hear every single beat of her heart.
And I realized, with soul crushing anger and frustration, there was no way I could have it.
Chapter 38
Amelia
In my dream, I was with Grant. We searched for Olivia. We desperately combed the shadowy corners and hidden alcoves of a haunting mansion. It was futile. She was gone. I turned to him, my angel, and begged, "Save her."
I sought his rich, violet eyes that pierced through the darkness and pulled his face towards mine. I waited for him to do it. To save her.
"I can't," he choked on obvious pain.
"You can. You can do anything," I insisted. I believed this to my core.
"I can't, but you can," he replied softly.
"How? I'll do anything. She's my friend…" But his face abruptly transformed. Angry lines creased his forehead. Tension coiled in his jaw.
He moved even closer, his finger pressing against my lips. My body instinctively sought to fit against his.
"Grant…" I said, aware, even half asleep, that his name escaped my mouth in the form of a moan.
I awoke with a start, confused, but certain that Grant was here with me, concealed nearby in the dark. With a start I realized his hand was pressed against my face. Reaching for him, I looped his finger with mine and led it to my lap. My idle hand searched for his face in the dark, groping until I made contact with his smooth, ageless skin.
"Are you okay?" I asked, afraid of his answer.
"We know a little more, but we haven't located her yet," he answered, sadness lacing each of his words.
My lips found his and kissed him softly, longing for my touch to be the salve that would ease his pain. His reaction was unexpectedly hesitant. I trailed my hand down his face and reached for the light on the bedside table, needing to see his face. With a single twist, the room was illuminated, glowing a warm yellow. He sat before me tense and anguished on the edge of the bed.
"Tell me what's going on." I wove my fingers through his hair, still damp from the shower. My hand traveled down his body, smoothing the shoulders of his T-shirt, which fit tightly over his hard, muscular arms.
His eyes focused just to the left of mine. "Elijah is heartbroken. Devastated, really."
“I can imagine.” Only I can’t. The thought sickened me.
“I’ve underestimated Caleb,” he said, this time locking his eyes with mine. "I thought I could stop him on my own terms. If I had to be honest, there were times I even enjoyed his little game of cat and mouse, but no more. Not after tonight.”
“Did something else happen?”
“He’s evil and he will do anything to hurt me.” He inhaled. “I can’t allow him to use you to make that happen.”
"What does that mean?”
"I mean, I'm not going to allow you or anyone else to be a pawn between me and Caleb." His voice was firm, but his eyes wavered. He dropped his gaze from mine and confessed in a strangled voice, "It's a sin for me to love you. God is making me pay for taking something that was never mine to have."
My jaw dropped and although I sat motionless on the bed, my heart shattered with his every word.
"No." That was the only reaction I could manage.
"This whole relationship is wrong. It isn't fair or realistic. It has to stop," he insisted, hiding his face under his thicket of hair.
"No."
"Yes."
It was as though I stepped outside myself. I should be more upset. I should be falling apart. Instead I watched him through narrowed eyes as he sat like an angel before me. He was afraid and wanted
to run. I lifted his chin so I could see his face and found fear etched into every feature. Fear was evident in the tightening around the edges of his eyes and the downturn of his lips. Unfortunately for Grant, I wasn't some child or office minion he could boss around. His compulsion held no power over me.
"No, Grant." I raised my chin. "You don't get to decide this on your own."
"But I do," he said decisively. "I'm going to live forever and you're not. It's unnatural and wrong. I pretend to be Batman. Helping those in need, fighting the bad guy. Philanthropist by day, crusader by night. But, Amelia, you must realize superheroes never have wives." He laughed darkly. "The billionaire playboy is a theme for a reason. The bad guys use love for leverage."
"You think I'm nothing more than leverage?" I spat, annoyed with his childish comparison.
"I know you are. To Caleb, at least." He raised his eyes to mine, unapologetic and fleetingly angered. "You and I were rungs on a ladder that led directly to Olivia. I haven't figured out why he’s using her, but I do know I can't protect you and also find her. I have to make a choice."
"Screw that, Grant Palmer. I'm the one with a choice," I replied, tossing the words into the air foolishly.
Grant scoffed and he asked in the most condescending tone, "Oh really, how’s that?”
"I'm not afraid and that gives me power."
His brow narrowed. "Of Caleb? Amelia, don’t be dense. He took Olivia. I know she's small, but she's a fighter."
"I'm not afraid of any of it. Caleb, the fledglings but most of all, death. There is only one thing I'm afraid of losing, and it’s you," I said with so much conviction I surprised myself.
"What do you know of death?" he asked bitterly, removing his hand from mine in one, fluid motion.
"I know it claimed you and then gave you to me. It took you multiple lifetimes to find me, so yeah, I’m not hating on death. Without death there is no you and me," I deduced.
He exhaled deeply, leaping off the bed, and began pacing the room with erratic, inhuman steps. "You're right. Without death there is no you and me. Don’t you understand that? Not now, not in the future, not ever."
