Isela's Love (21 page)

Guarros may not have hit her as many times as he normally did. She usually lost count. But he had hit her considerably harder than he ever had before. The stripes he’d left across her body still throbbed and stung.

After several deep breaths, Isela left the restroom, eager for the solace of her room. Once she stepped inside, she shut the door behind her, fighting the urge to drop to the floor and weep. She refused to shed one more tear at that bastard’s hand.

Instead she inhaled a few cleansing breaths and removed her clothes. Isela looked into the makeshift mirror she had, wincing at the wide red streaks covering her back, her bottom, and the back of her thigh. Surely they would bruise. “I’ll be sleeping on my stomach tonight,” she said out loud.

Mae came bursting through the door right then, startling Isela. She snatched the thin blanket off of her bed to cover herself.

“Mae! Ever hear of knocking?”

As if she hadn’t even heard the scolding, Mae ran to Isela, throwing her arms around her, tears in her eyes. “Oh Izzy, I just heard. How bad was it?”

Isela peeled Mae off of her, trying not to flinch from the pain of Mae’s arms slapping against her tender, sore flesh.

“I’m okay, Mae. Really. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the last time. I shouldn’t have mouthed off. One of these days I’ll learn to keep quiet.”

“Are you sure? Is there anything I can get you?”

“Mae, the only thing I need is sleep. Please, go back to your room and I’ll talk to you tomorrow, I promise.”

Mae took a step back, her lip trembling. “I only wanted to help.”

Isela didn’t have it in her to comfort her friend, not when she, herself needed some so badly. She sighed. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, Mae. You’re my best friend. I know you were only trying to help. I’m just so tired.”

Mae touched Isela’s arm. As she left, she said, “It’s okay. Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Isela started to sit down on her bed, but then thought better of it. Before she could even attempt a more suitable position, the door burst open again. She whirled, prepared to holler at Mae, but found she had no voice. Brendan stood before her, his chest heaving.

He put his hand up as if to stop her from speaking. “I know you hate me right now because you think I betrayed you, but I didn’t. I know you don’t want to hear what I have to say, but that’s just too damn bad, because I’m going to say what I came here to say and you’re going to listen.

Isela pulled the blanket up around her, covering as much skin as she could. “Could you at least shut the goddamned door?” she asked, with far more hostility that she’d meant to.

Suddenly, seeing Brendan standing there before her? All the despair, all the misery, all the sorrow twisted and churned in her gut, transforming into a burning anger.

He’d led her to believe they had something special, only to find out he’d lied. He lured her in, let her fall for him, knowing he had a wife and child at home, knowing he’d be leaving.

Brendan shut the door. Before he had the chance to say anything, Isela was in his face, clutching the blanket to her chest, not caring it was all she had on.

“You bastard,” she spat. “How dare you come storming in here, ordering me to listen to anything you have to say after the way you deceived me? Does your wife know about all the nights you came to me? How many nights we stayed up all night together?”

Brendan reached his hand out to her. “Isela, please.”

She slapped his hand away. “No,” she said, her voice shrill. “Don’t you touch me. I gave myself to you. All of me. Everything I had! And you threw it away...like garbage.”

With that last sentence, her anger fizzled out all at once. She had nothing left. No anger, no resolve, no hope. The despair returned with heaping dose of agony on top. Isela slumped to her knees, bent her head down, and wept, one hand clutching the blanket against her, the other covering her eyes.

****

As soon as Brendan had left Bashua, he’d sprinted back to his room without stopping to speak with anyone, not even so much as a hello. He paced back and forth across his floor rehearsing what he’d say to Isela. Each time he said the words, they sounded stiff and awkward. Frustrated, he’d snatched up the drinking glass he’d left on the dresser and hurled it into the wall, shattering it on impact.

He continued pacing. Everything depended on what words he chose. How should he approach her? Should he wait for her in her room like he had before?

The memory of that glorious night flooded his mind. He closed his eyes. The way her body melted into his. The taste of her kiss. How her scent had lingered on him long after he’d left. Needing her the way he did, Brendan had never been so desperate in his life.

He ruled out waiting in her room. With the friction between them, she would only see it as an intrusion, not the romantic gesture he intended. Instead, he decided to defer to Bashua’s advice. He’s take control. He’d make her listen. Then she’d know she’d jumped to false conclusions.

What Brendan hadn’t counted on was the level of devastation he’d caused her. Whether or not it was intentional didn’t matter in the least. The second he felt her anger, he was relieved. Her anger he could handle. When that dissolved into sorrow, a deep, endless sorrow, he nearly doubled over. Knowing he’d caused her such immense pain practically destroyed him.

All Brendan’s rehearsing and justification went right out the window with Isela’s first tear. When she hit her knees, the room started spinning. He thought he might vomit. He did this. How could he possibly expect her to forgive him? Oh God, he had to make this right.

Since he had no clue on what to say or do, Brendan decided to go with his feelings. He dropped to his knees in front of her, tears welling in his own eyes. Pulling Isela into his arms, his heart splintered as she resisted. He didn’t let go. Finally, she wilted against him, weeping.

The lump in Brendan’s throat threatened to strangle him. Holding her like this distracted him for only a second.

“Isela, please listen. I talked to Bashua. He told me what you think. I’m not married, I swear, and I do not have a baby. You are the only woman I want.”

She pulled away. “Stop it,” she sobbed. “I read the letter. I know you’re not who you pretended to be. Maggie and the baby miss you and love you. How could you—”

“Holding her upper arms, he gave her a little shake. “Isela, Maggie is my sister. She’s Darrios’s wife. The baby is theirs.”

Furrowing her brow, she looked at him through her tear-filled eyes, torturing him with her pain. “I don’t understand.”

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I’ll tell you everything, but please know, I only lied to protect you. I do not have a wife or a child.”

Isela stood up, clutching the blanket closer. She wiped her eyes with her free hand. “You don’t?”

He stood up, facing her. “No, I don’t. Maggie is my older sister. She’s married to Darrios.”

“The hunter with the golden streaks in his hair?”

Brendan nodded, taking a step toward Isela. “I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you about who I am.” He took her hands in his, bringing them to his mouth, tenderly kissing her knuckles, gazing into her eyes. “I swear to you, Isela, I never lied to you about my feelings for you. These past days, when you refused to see me, I thought I was going to die.” He closed his eyes to prevent the tears welling up from spilling. Not being able to hold you or taste your kiss was torture.”

Isela stared at him, her eyes like saucers. “I thought...I mean...I’m sorry, Brendan. I thought—”

He crushed her in a hug. “Ssshhh, you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry. If I had been honest with you to begin with, none of this would’ve happened.”

“It hurt so bad, Brendan. I missed you so much,” Isela whispered shakily.

“I know. I promise, I’ll make it up to you.”

Pulling her to him, he held onto her like she was a life raft in an ocean storm. “I love you, Isela...so much it hurts.”

Isela gasped. Stepping back, she said, “Tell me who you are, Brendan, so I can love you back.”

Nodding, he sat down on the bed, patting the spot next to him.

“Um, I think I’d rather stand.”

“Okay, where to start? I’m not from Celio. I’m from St. Louis, Missouri. That’s in what you call the other world. I worked for Social Saviors, an organization designed to help impoverished villages in third world countries.”

“What’s a third world country?”

“That would be like the Outer Rim, but with different monsters. We started out showing people how to grow food, cleaning up water supplies, teaching kids to read, stuff like that. The second year I got into the undercover stuff. We took down a couple of really bad guys.

“It sounds very noble of you.”

He smiled.

“It’s funny. I couldn’t imagine anyone more treacherous than those men, until I met Guarros. Anyway, I’d committed to two years. I got a letter from my sister, saying she was pregnant, right before my tour was up.”

Isela cocked her head to the side. “How could you send mail from one world to the next?”

“Remember I told you, if you’re a native you can travel between worlds.”

“Yes, but you’re not a native.”

“No, but Bernie is. Bernie’s a friend of Darrios’s.

Maggie’d write letters and he’d bring them over and mail them. He set up a post office box so I could send her letters. He’d pick them up and take them to her.”

“That’s great that the two of you could keep in touch.”

“Yeah, Bernie’s the one who got my sister and Darrios together in the first place. He ‘arranged’ for her to fall through a door into the Outer Rim so Darrios would rescue her.”

“And they fell madly in love?”

“Actually, Maggie came back to Missouri. She didn’t want to just disappear with no explanation. Once she got back she realized she was in love with Darrios, but it was too late, or so she thought. He showed up claiming he loved her and was willing to stay in our world, but she wanted to return to Celio.”

“How was that possible? I thought you had to be a native to go back and forth.”

Brendan shrugged. “Bernie must’ve got them here. They live in Inland.”

“So, will I be able to get you back and forth?”

“I hope so. We’ll ask Bernie. If not, he can do it. That’s how I got here. When I got Maggie’s letter telling me she was pregnant, I wanted to come to Celio. I wrote to Bernie, asking him if he could get me there.” Brendan beamed. “We surprised her. I arrived literally right after Lucan was born.”

“I’ll bet your sister was thrilled.”

“Yeah, it was a good surprise.”

“So, how did you wind up here, in Guarros’s prison?”

“As soon as Darrios met Guarros, he knew the man was off, but what really got him was you, your situation.”

“Me? Why?”

“You haven’t committed any crimes and yet you’re still a prisoner. That isn’t right. Darrios thought this whole place smacked of circumstances that weren’t what they seemed.”

“That’s an understatement.”

Brendan glanced at the floor then back to Isela. “Isela, there’s something else.” He stood up, gathering her in his arms. “I don’t want to upset you, but I promised you I’d tell you the whole truth. I really don’t want any secrets between us ever again.”

She pulled away, remaining at arm’s length, chewing her lip, waiting for him to continue.

“Tell me, Brendan, please. I can handle it, whatever it is.” She tried to lighten the mood. “As long as you don’t tell me you do have a wife.”

Brendan didn’t smile. He sighed. “Bernie knew your father. He said he was the best. He also said he wasn’t killed by moltergs. Based on the evidence, that story was a lie.” He paused. Isela stared at him, not breathing. “Darrios and Bernie believe your father was murdered...and Guarros was involved.”

Isela’s hand flew up to her mouth. She cried out, sagging into Brendan’s arms. He caught her, nestling her against him.

“I’m sorry, Isela. As if you haven’t had enough to deal with.”

She stepped back. Her voice shaking, she said, “No, no, I’m glad you told me. I have so many questions. You mentioned the evidence.”

Brendan sighed. “Isela, the details are rather graphic. I don’t think—”

“Brendan, please. I want to know. I need to know. God, all these years...”

He nodded. “All right.” Brendan ran his hand through his hair and exhaled. Moltergs kill for food, and they won’t eat anything that’s already dead. Your father’s body was intact. A molterg didn’t kill him. If it did—”

“It would’ve eaten him.”

“Yes.”

Isela gulped in mouthfuls of air, fisting and unfisting her hands, obviously trying to remain calm. Brendan watched her, wishing there was something he could do to ease her suffering.

“What else?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The theory can’t possibly end there. What else do the hunters think? Why do they think Guarros is involved in my father’s death?”

“Your mother worked for Guarros. They think Guarros wanted your mother for himself. He had your father murdered so he could pretend to be the comforting boss and offer her a place to stay.”

Isela stopped and stared at Brendan, nearly hyperventilating. “His brother was our landlord. He raised our rent so my mother couldn’t afford to pay it. That’s when Guarros offered us a room.” Isela clutched her stomach. “Oh God, I feel sick.”

“Isela?” Brendan asked, steadying her.

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears.

“He planned it all, Brendan. He killed my father so he could use my mother for his own pleasure. And then when he got sick of her, he killed her too.”

“Why do you think your mother was murdered? I’m not disputing the fact. I just want to know what makes you so sure she didn’t commit suicide like they say.”

“I was there. I heard it all. He came in, drunk, ordering her to...” She choked back a sob. “He told her to get down on her knees. She refused. She said she wouldn’t do it until he swore never to touch me. He hit her several times, telling her she had no right to ask for such a promise. He said he’d do whatever he damn well pleased to me. Then he laughed. He laughed.”

“That sick fuck.”