Knight Predator (13 page)

I had to laugh. Busted. “Okay and yes.”

“Now I’m going to strike terror into your heart.” She grinned as I looked at her in real alarm. She laughed. “Relax.” She ran a finger down my throat and onto my chest, eyes soaking up the view. Her next words were a whisper. “So unbelievably beautiful. My living statue.”

Her gaze met mine, raw emotion pouring from her and through me.

“Us. We have to talk about us.”

Inwardly I winced and sighed. She looked at me, dazed, as she suddenly found herself cradled in my arms. I held her soft gaze as I put her on her feet, and she slipped her arms around my neck.

“Us? Sorry, kid, that’s not a word that strikes terror into my heart.

That only works on the unfaithful.”

“I thought it was undead too?”

“Sorry, lovey, wrong kind of ‘un.’”

“Well, that’s just a major pain in the arse, isn’t it?”

“Not for me it isn’t.” I smiled, fuzzily sensing that I was only seconds away from kissing her. I struggled mightily with myself and finally managed to rein in my tangled and tumultuous emotions. She seemed to sense the change in me and pulled back.

“Look,” I said, sighing. “There’s more to it than just the blood sucking factor. There’s also quite an age difference. Do you have any idea how much older than you I am? I’m old enough to be your grandmother.”

She colored slightly. “You don’t look it.” She shrugged. “You don’t look much older than me. I don’t understand how someone who doesn’t have the limits of an aging body can actually be old on the inside? Don’t old people always say that they never feel old, they feel young?”

I chuckled and pulled her close again, slow dancing with easy familiarity. “Yes. That’s true, they do say that. Age isn’t only about what you are and aren’t physically capable of doing, it’s also about how much experience you have. You don’t have as much as me and it shows.”

Bronwyn pulled back from me and gaped. “You patronizing-

patronizing-patronizing—”

“No, no name calling. It’s true.”

She pulled out of my arms and peered at me closely, all traces of good humor vanished. I could tell by the set of her shoulders and the clenching and unclenching of her hands that she was furious.

“So what you’re telling me is that you couldn’t possibly love me because I’m a child. We have nothing in common and never will.”

I thought about it for a moment. Did she have a point? “No, I do think we have things in common. But we’re not only talking about a fifty-eight year age difference, we’re also talking about a species difference. You’re young and you have your whole life ahead of you.

You’re alive and I’m not.”

She crossed her arms and glared at me for several moments, during which I struggled not to fidget. “God, what a cop out. You know what your problem is? You have no faith.”

“If I had faith I’d probably be burned to a crisp by now.” It was a lame joke that failed miserably, judging by the anger in Bronwyn’s eyes. “Look, nothing is ever that simple. Your view of the world is amazingly naïve if you really think that we could wave a magic wand and make some kind of stunningly beautiful couple living a stable life in a perfect world. What do you think would happen? Do you really think I’m going to pick you up from school—during the day, mind you—on my gargoyle so we can go lurching off into the sunset?”

“No, what I’m saying is that people who have a flexible mind aren’t afraid to try new things.” Her voice rose in volume. “It doesn’t matter how old you are, it matters how you react to situations and what kind of a person you are on the inside. It’s not always about age and looks.

You’re a coward, Crowley.”

I looked at her closely. Her face was red, and she was breathing hard. I took a moment to calm myself. She simply could not understand what I was saying to her. I could see her point, but there were other things that she hadn’t considered. Did she want children? Did she want to get married? What did she want for her future? We were so different on fundamental levels that a relationship would never work, even if I had been of a mind to pursue one.

She turned her back to me, and her shoulders were hunched.

“Bronwyn.”

She almost kicked the carpet like a small child having a tantrum.

“Bronwyn.”

Her shoulders stiffened, so I knew she heard me. I took a step toward her and laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Bronwyn, look at me.” I gave her a gentle nudge, and she finally turned around to face me, eyes brimming with tears and misery. “What about if I agree to keep an open mind?” I knew it was just plain stupid to pretend that there was nothing going on between us.

Her eyebrows contracted, and she wiped away the unshed tears from her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“It means we’ll talk about this more, but there’s something I have to show you first.”

A dim spark of hope flared in her eyes. My heart lightened almost unwillingly. I could not stand to see her upset and I felt no small amount of disgust with myself for causing it. I could not help it; there were things we needed to say. If we were to have any kind of relationship at all—even friendship—we would have to be on an even footing. There could be no gross imbalance of power.

Did I even want any of this? Once I would have said no, but now I was not so sure. It was such a relief to be able to declare my nature to another being and not to be judged badly for it.

She took a step forward, her bloodshot green eyes locked onto my burning blue ones. We stood a hairsbreadth apart for a second. She sank into my embrace, oddly drawing comfort from me, the person who was hurting her the worst.

I stroked her hair, feeling the soft stir of her breath against the smooth, sensitive skin of my throat, and then I pulled back, gazed at her, and held her small hands in my large ones.

I could not bear to tear my eyes away from her beautiful face. “Yes, we do need to talk, but I want you to come with me first. I have to show you something. You game?”

She pulled away from me, slipped her hand into mine, and tangled our fingers together. “I’m game if you are. Lead the way.” She gestured before us.

It took every ounce of will power I had not to kiss her as I led the way to my car.

“Where the hell are we?” Bronwyn wrinkled her nose in disgust as we pulled into the old and weedy parking lot of a private hospital.

I shook my head, unwilling, as yet, to say anything. The trip here through the light traffic had been a quiet one, as we preferred the company of our own thoughts. With each second that passed, the twin urges of grim determination to get here and to run as fast as I could in the opposite direction warred with one another. Finally, the visiting won out, but only by a hair.

Finding parking was easy. Although the small, single level hospital was full of patients, most of them never got that many visitors. I always hated coming here. I turned off the engine with a decisive twist of the key and sat for a moment or so as Bronwyn watched me closely.

Okay. Let’s do this
.

With a leaden hand, I opened the door, got out of the car, and gave the dark parking lot an automatic quick scan for any signs of trouble.

Bronwyn followed me out of the car a second later, still unable to take her eyes off me. I saw the wheels turning behind her eyes mingled with concern. I gave her a brief smile, knowing it didn’t touch my eyes, to reassure her. She hesitantly returned it.

I gazed at the building in front of us. She was right—it was pretty gross, but the facility had an outstanding reputation and an equally outstandingly stupid name: Sunnybank Long Term Care Facility. Why the fuck couldn’t they just call it an old peoples’ home and be done with it? No name could hide the way its appearance broadcasted its function. The outside looked as though it had seen better days. The brickwork was faded, the windows scratched and a little dirty, the writing almost obliterated from the signs. Overall, the place was a bit like the people who called it home—it had seen better days but still stubbornly powered on.

“Just come with me.” I gestured and led the way toward the doors, nestled under a crumbling and somehow cancer riddled awning. She slipped her hand into mine, and I squeezed it reassuringly. “It’s okay.

I’d like you to meet someone.”

I walked through the front doors. Most of the facility was deserted, and the ultra clean antiseptic smell hit my senses, warring uneasily with the smell of old shit and age, almost making me gag. Crepe paper streamers hung listlessly on the walls, and in between the bends were crayon pictures, most hanging askew, drawn by the kids in the local schools as if trying to instill almost desperate cheer. Bronwyn wrinkled her nose in disgust as she surveyed the wide, deserted hallways.

This place had always made my skin crawl, but it honestly was one of the best of its kind. The staff was genuinely attentive and caring of both the people they tended and the visitors.

Steeling myself, I led the way past a nurse’s station, deserted at the moment. If the nurse had been there, I would have waved in greeting.

They were used to seeing me here at this time.

We went down the corridor, past another empty station and beyond two darkened doorways, into a small ward. It was as dark as the other rooms had been, the sole light source being the dim illumination from the hallway. Bronwyn’s hand tightened in mine. She trusted me to guide her past obstacles because I knew her eyes were adjusting to the change in light, and mine didn’t need to. Two of the beds in the room were deserted, but the last was the home of an old woman. I smiled sadly when I saw her. I glanced at Bronwyn to make sure she was watching. I gestured to her to sit on the metal and plastic visitor’s chair by the bed, while I sat on the edge of the bed so I could face the occupant.

The lady in the bed was wrinkled, sleeping soundly, mouth slightly open to show her toothless, pink gums. Her wisps of white hair had been brushed away from her forehead. Her flannelette nightgown was sensibly done up all the way to her ancient, wrinkled neck. Her liver-spotted hands lay on the greenish hospital blanket, sheets beneath it white and starched. With the utmost care, blinking back tears, I took the frail, arthritic hand and once again looked at a well-loved face. At one time, it had been youthful and vibrant; now it was just a pale, sick shadow of what it had once been. The years had been so unkind to her.

I remembered everything, all that she had been to me: mother, teacher, friend. There had been so many good times and all so long ago.

As though for the first time, I drank in every change that time had forced upon her—the almost non-existent white eyelashes, the paper thin skin, sparse white eyebrows, wrinkled lips. I could still see her, as she was so long ago: the sunset hair shining in the brightness of noon, full red lips, twinkling blue eyes, and straight white teeth as she flashed her beautiful smile. Once young and strong, she was now aged and failing. She had not known that this was what fate had dictated for her. She had always believed that she would go in her prime, or die old and frail in her bed, surrounded by her grandchildren. In reality, her children had deserted her, and she had not met her grandchildren. I was the only person who really came to see her, and that was as often as I could, usually once a week.

I sat there for the longest time, lost in pain for her and everything she meant to me, until Bronwyn’s hands found my broad shoulders, and she gave me a reassuring squeeze. The salty tears slipped almost unnoticed down my cheeks as I kissed those soft, wrinkled lips.

“I won’t say goodbye. Until we meet again.” I knew my whisper would never wake this old woman.

I was shocked when the lips moved to form words, and I put my ear close to her. “Thank you, Little One. Until we meet again.” It was the endearment she had always used for me, and the pain of just hearing it tore through my insides. The shadow of the voice I had once known sank a wickedly sharp dagger into my heart, bringing more unwanted, bittersweet memory with it. I felt myself break a little more.

My self control vanished, and tears ran down my face unchecked as I nodded. “Yes.”

With regret I stroked the cool, fragile skin of her forehead, silently telling her farewell and I still loved her and would never stop. No matter what my path was, she would always hold a private corner of my heart that no one would ever break into.

Bronwyn sensed that I was done and slipped her arm through mine and led me out of the hospital. My protective, young mortal and I walked in privacy through the deserted hospital hallways. No one saw my tears. I was still crying when we hit the semi-deserted parking lot, and Bronwyn pulled me into her arms to soothe me. Quite frankly, that just made things worse.

I didn’t want to hurt my mortal friend, so I disentangled myself and led her to the car, gleaming dully under the insect encrusted fluorescent lights of the car park. I dug in my pocket for the keys and found them after a few shaky attempts. I opened the door for her to get in. I took a deep breath and got into the driver’s seat.

“I need a moment.” I saw her worried face and gave her a reassuring smile. “We’re going home.”

“Okay, Crowley.” She sat with her hands in her lap, looking straight ahead.

Heart heavy, I turned the key in the ignition and started the engine.

Without a backward glance, I pulled out of the space and onto the dark road. Bronwyn was silent for the entire uneventful trip.

What to tell her? How much to tell her? Had I fallen in love with Bronwyn? Was I able to love Bronwyn? What to do next? The questions consumed me right up until I pulled into my garage. I didn’t have answers to any of them.

We got out of the car, and she slipped her fingers into mine as she led me to the house. I had given her a spare set of keys, and she unlocked the door and pushed me through it. She dropped her keys on the marble hall table and took us into the living room. She left me standing there in the deep shadows as she selected my favorite CD.

After pushing me into my chair, she sat on my footstool and made sure we were eye to eye.