Bound by Time (11 page)

Damien ran across the dew-dampened grass between the houses in his bare feet. He burst through the front door and shouted her name. No answer. The window thrummed with dark triumphant power. Damien ran up the stairs.

Her room was empty. Damien charged back down the stairs. “Isobel!” Still no answer. She wasn’t in the kitchen either. Turning, he ran into the family room. His heart caught when his eyes found her lying on the floor, her lips turning blue.

Isobel’s world faded as the rope stole her life away. “Isobel!” His hands shook her roughly, bringing her back to reality. Air exploded into her lungs, and she sucked in great gulps of it. The family room swam into view again. Something had her! Confused and disoriented she threw out her hands, trying to scramble away from whatever it was.

Damien held her easily, her physical strength no match for his. “I’m here. You’re all right.” She continued to struggle. “Isobel, calm down.” Damien’s voice finally cut through the panic. With a sob she collapsed against him, shaking.

He enfolded her in his arms and just held her. He’d almost lost her again. When she pushed away, he reluctantly let her go. Isobel scooted across the floor until she leaned against the wall again.

Damien reached his hand out, hesitated, and pulled it back. “Isobel, talk to me.”

“Why?” she cried. “What is happening to me? I dream things that actually happened. I dreamed of me in other times. I dreamed of
you
in other times. Who are you?”

Damien sat on the carpet across from her and leaned against the side of the couch. “Tell me what you dreamed.”

Isobel stared at him. Was he crazy? Was she? It was only then that she realized he was shirtless. The light shining in the windows gleamed off the water droplets clinging to his skin. The muscles in his chest rippled as he shifted. His wet, black hair clung to his neck, and the fresh scent of soap filled the air.

“Isobel, please; tell me what you dreamed.”

Without thinking Isobel told him all of her dreams, and what she had found on the Internet. Damien didn’t react. No emotions showed on his face.

When she finished, he only nodded. “And what just happened now?”

Might as well tell it all. Then he would run far away from her and think she was crazy. She told him everything anyway. The window that watched her, the reflection in the mirror, the whispers in the house, and what she’d seen when she experienced being hung.

This time when she finished Isobel stared at the carpet, running her hand over the fibers while her stomach twisted into knots. She flinched when he stood up abruptly. He would leave now. Leave her alone with the window until people came to cart her away.

His hand, warm and gentle, rested upon her arm. Isobel looked up as Damien sat down next to the wall facing her. He reached out and ran the back of his fingers down the side of her face. “You’re much stronger this time, and it’s all coming at you faster. So fast you don’t have time to adjust.”

A tear slipped down her cheek at the gentle, almost loving tone in his voice. A tone that made her heart ache as if it remembered something she didn’t. “This time? What do you mean? Aren’t you afraid I’m crazy?”

He shook his head and smiled, though it held a sad quality. “You are not crazy. You are the key; this has played out several times before.”

Confusion made her thoughts chaotic. The key. Those were the words in her mother’s diary and what had been written on the door. “What are you talking about? I don’t understand any of this.”

“No, not yet.” Damien looked at her with such longing that she had to look away as he continued. “You have spent your life pushing away your power. Pushing away what it was trying to tell you.”

Startled, her eyes jerked back to his. “I don’t have…” her voice trailed away at the knowledge she saw in his eyes.

He knew she would try to deny it. Knew the death of her mother kept her frightened of it. “It’s been trying to help you since your early teens. You’ve done your best to turn away from it, haven’t you? Now it’s breaking through in waves, more intense than it would have been had you embraced it earlier.”

Isobel drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. “What do you mean this has played out several times before? Are you…?” she couldn’t believe she was asking this. “Are you immortal?”

That sad smile touched his lips again.

Damien studied her, reading her expression. Finally she was ready to hear, and he could tell her the truth. “I guess you could say that. I have lived and died many times over the centuries.” He drew her hair through his fingers and savored the feel of it; the chance to sit with her like this again. “So have you.” His voice was so soft and low it was almost a whisper. “You are always Isobel. Always the same; only each time stronger.”

Memories that were hers yet not hers tumbled through her mind. Memories of them together in the past. He looked a little different through the centuries, but the eyes were always the same, and she knew it was him. “And you—you’re always Damien.”

He nodded. “Your memories return. Yes, I am always Damien.” Too many times to count. Too many lifetimes where he had to watch her die or died knowing he couldn’t save her. Damien looked at her grimly; soon she would know what she faced.

The tortured look in his blue eyes stunned her when he said, “I have lost you in one way or another each time. I won’t fail to protect you again.”

“Protect me from what?” she whispered.

“Everything. Your life is so much more important than mine. It always has been.”

Isobel saw him again, full of arrows lying in a field, saw him fighting through a crowd of soldiers in the south of France centuries ago, and again watched him take more wounds than any mere man could withstand trying to reach her. She saw again with a clarity she wished would fade as his head rolled across the grass of the field when she stood on the gallows.

She stared at him for a long moment. “You fought for me. You died for me. Each time you were willing to give your life fighting to save me.”

His eyes softened.
“Vita mea pro tua, semper. Meae deliciae.”

Isobel shook her head. “What does that mean?”

“My life for yours, always. My love.”

“If you can die, how are you immortal?”

“Very few things can actually kill me. If I could have traded my life for yours in those times when I didn’t die, I would have. I can be injured, but I will heal. Only removing my head will actually kill me.” There was something else that could kill him as well but there was no sense in going into it right now. “I have a human life span, although longer than most. When this body gives out, I will go and wait to be born again.” He laughed though there was little humor in it. “Sometimes I envy those who get to die and rest forever if they wish.
Etiam in morte, vivo.
”

Confused, she asked, “What?”

Damien smiled sadly. “Even in death, I live.”

Isobel stared at him for a long moment. He leaned forward, hesitated, and then pressed his lips gently against hers. More memories flooded her at the familiar feel of his kiss. She reached up and tangled her fingers in his damp hair, pulling him closer. She parted her lips, and he deepened the kiss. His tongue swept into her mouth, claiming her in this lifetime. The heat from his bare chest burned through her shirt, and her body responded. Her heart beat in a wild rhythm; deep inside her soul sang with recognition. So many memories flooded her mind as his hands slid around her, pulling her tight against him. He was here—they had found each other again.

Tears slid down her face at the deep love that welled inside her. A love that had carried them through centuries together. That would carry them through many more. Her power rose up and thrummed in her veins bringing more memories.

Damien groaned and eased back, breaking the connection. He didn’t want to, but there was so much more to discuss.

Isobel gasped as she touched her lips, her power fading back behind her blocks. “How is it that you remember so much? That I remember so much? People usually have to be put under hypnosis in order to remember past lives. Until now, I wasn’t sure I really believed in past lives.”

He slid his hand onto her neck, resting it on her shoulder as his thumb brushed along her jaw. “We are not like other people. Our purpose is different than theirs; we need the memories in order to complete what we are put here for.”

She searched the remaining holes in her memory. “Why can’t I remember everything?”

“Until you fully embrace your power your memories are locked behind the blocks you’ve created. Like your power, your memories are only breaking through in pieces.”

“What are we here for?”

Damien’s voice was flat and hard when he responded. “Xapar and others like him.”

X
apar?” Saying the word brought a shiver to her that had nothing to do with Damien’s touch.

Damien nodded. “How much have you read about Saint Januarius?”

Isobel stood up then walked slowly to the kitchen. Damien followed her. “Only that he died in 305 A.D. as a martyr.” She poured a glass of water and took a small sip, gazing at the floor where she’d seen the body of a man several days before. “He was beheaded after supposedly being thrown into a furnace where he didn’t die and after wild beasts failed to attack him. And a woman named Eusebia collected his blood in vials, and they hold a celebration in Italy to honor the blood returning to liquid form.”

Damien nodded. “Sounds like you’ve read as much as you will find in the history books. The rest is known only to those of us who were actually there.” He laughed softly. “I find it amusing that most sites refer to Eusebia as ‘a certain woman named Eusebia.’ I’m sure few today know who or what she really was. And even if they did, they wouldn’t admit it. Some things never change.” Bitter memories of losing Isobel to the witch hunts burned in his mind.

“And what was Eusebia?” Isobel asked, taking another drink.

Damien leaned down as Sorsha wound her way through his legs with a soft meow. He picked the soft, fluffy cat up and stroked her fur. “She was what you are.”

Isobel set the glass down. “You’re saying Eusebia was me?”

“No.” His shook his head. “Eusebia was herself. She was like you. Very powerful. Sadly, not powerful enough. That’s where you are different.”

“What wasn’t she powerful enough to do?”

“Banish Xapar back to the underworld. Nothing will keep him there forever; he’s a very powerful upper level demon. But it would have given the world some respite from him.”

Fear crawled through her. “What did she do?”

“She sealed him in a window. Your window,” he said, the grim tone back.

Isobel sank into one of the chairs at the island. “How can that be? Eusebia lived in the fourth century. How could a window survive that long? How could it end up here?”

Damien sat across from her. “I, and others like me, have tracked it through the centuries. On occasion, due to the chaos of the time, it became lost. But we always found it again. While it was still in the chapel in Naples, Xapar could do no harm. Once the earthquake took a good portion of the cathedral, he was able to reach out.”

More memories floated through her mind; the knowledge of other lives, other times when she understood all of it and her purpose. Although Isobel knew all her past lives understood this, she still couldn’t bring all the threads together in this life. And if that didn’t sound confusing, she didn’t know what did.

“In order to understand it all, we have to go back to Saint Januarius.” Damien ran his hand through his hair—his memories of that distant century as clear as those from this one. “In the early fourth century Timotheus, the governor of Campania, imprisoned Januarius who was the bishop of Beneventum then. As you noticed, there are a lot of tales surrounding his death.”

Isobel nodded but otherwise sat perfectly still, needing to hear it all and afraid at the same time. “What you won’t find in any text anywhere is that Timotheus was possessed by the demon Xapar. He takes great pleasure in suffering. He feeds off it. Creating dissention and war where there should be none is something he loves.” Damien paused, remembering the rabid look on the governor’s face. “He literally drove Timotheus insane. Another thing you won’t find is that Januarius had powers such as yours.”