Love's Battle (True Blue Trilogy) (24 page)

Instead of methodically re-sanitizing myself and my apartment any further, I found the shortest dress I owned, one that showed a whole lot of skin and left little to the imagination, and paired it with the tallest heels I could find.

My plan? To find the loudest most jam packed place in Ellicott City and dance the night away.

Chapter 47

Danton

My eyes felt like sand paper.

I blinked them a few times to make sure they still worked. I was beginning to think the last hundred books I paged through hadn’t been a good idea.

Stiffly I got up from my desk. Stretching, I worked out the kinks that had crept up on me. Research was the pits, an endless snake infested pits of jumbled information. Snagging my empty coffee cup I went in search of a refill, the reams of information I’d ingested circling inside my head like sharks during a feeding frenzy.

I’d managed to find a biography on Rodolfo Chavez. In it were mentions of his family and the monument he and his remaining older sons, Zale and Ziven, had erected in memory of the fallen young Jorrin and countless others lost to the War of Jenkin’s Ear. Estevan it turned out had become a doctor, and the young Mateo, a political official.

The Siren of the Sea was now controlled by a distant male relative and had been retired during the seventeenth century when the current sultan revoked the letter of marque, effectively ending the reign of the Tunisian privateer. Passed down through the generations Ilori and Oringo’s tavern, Siren’s Song, was still operational.

There wasn’t much information to be found on Love’s eighth life as Darla Prokop beyond a trio of unmarked graves and the legend of a town curse.

As the story goes, the town of Ipswich went crazy during the height of the Salem Witch Trials. Along with many others they accused a group of triplets of witchcraft and held them in the local jail for days on end. Shortly before their hearing the Prokop parents escaped to Boston where they persuaded the governor into giving their daughters a pardon. Only the pardon arrived too late.

When the governor’s man rode into Ipswich, the triplets were already dead, their bodies left where they had died. It was this man, Liam Farris, who buried them in the adjacent apple orchard. An orchard that refused to bear fruit or blooms from the day the triplets were murdered.

Strangely enough it wasn’t until the last of the townspeople present for the triplets murders died that the trees began to bloom again, but to this day they still produced no fruit.

These unnatural occurrences can be traced back to the speech Darla, or rather Love, made with her last remaining breath as she charged the townspeople to live with their crimes for the rest of their lives.

‘May your children and theirs be haunted by what has transpired here today so that future generations may know of your shame.’

In a feat of unimaginable science, the original trees in Wilfork Orchard have continued to thrive for close to four hundred years.

It blew my mind.

As far as Minna Turpin, Love’s tenth life, that was another story. She and her husband were well documented friends of First Lady and President Taft.

The newspapers were full of Minna and her sisters. In their role as friends of the First Lady, the three of them worked along side Mrs.Taft to entertain visitors to the White

House after she fell victim to a stroke. On March twenty-seven, nineteen-twelve Mrs. Taft planted the first Japanese cherry tree saplings. Minna and her sisters, Calla Lovitt and Leala Fergus each took turns planting saplings of their own.

In a strange twist of fate, one of the Turpin’s great-great- grandson had won a Senate seat in the last election, continuing the political line.

I rubbed my forehead where a headache was brewing, grateful to hear the ringing distraction of the phone. It was a lot to take in.

“DeAngelo.”

“Hey Big D! It’s Jon. Hello. Can you hear me?”

Probably not since he had busted my ear drum. “Yeah! Where are you?”

“E-City! Why are you home on a Saturday night?”

“Working.”

“Bummer. Hey man, listen. I just saw your girl!”

“Girl? What girl? Are you drunk?”

“Nah man, I just got here. The place is hoppin’, but I saw your girl. She was dancing with some dude.”

“What girl?” It amazed me at times like this that Jon was fully competent in his day job.

“Your girl! The one who crashed your cousins wedding! Crazy eyes, smoking’ bod. She was dancing with some guy, then she hit the john. Not me Jon, haha, but john- you know, the throne room. Went in with a whole gaggle of fem’s.”

The frantic beat of the second hand rhythm, pouring through the phone, matched the one now pounding in my head. Love was out dancing with someone else! So much for true love.

“Hey, can you hear me?” Jon yelled.

“Yeah, I can hear you.”

“Look man,” Jon apologized, his jovial attitude on pause for the moment. “I’m sorry. I just thought you should know.”

“No. Don’t worry about it. It’s all right. Thanks for the call. Have fun.”

As I hung up the phone, my simmering headache blew into a migraine. I couldn’t tell what hurt worse, my head or my heart.

As the research began to prove true all of what Love had said about her past lives, I’d begun to cling to the chance that with her by my side I wouldn’t turn out like my mother- a woman torn in so many directions that it amazed me she could still piece herself together- or like my father- a man who pined for the woman he’d been living without for fifteen years because he was too proud to apologize and ask for a second chance.

Well, I wasn’t my parents. I knew the direction I wanted my life to go in and I wasn’t too proud to beg the woman I loved for a second chance. Prior husbands be damned. They were all dead anyway. If Love thought she could toss me over for some bozo, she had another thing coming.

Grabbing my keys I hurried out the door ready to confront Love. I was so caught up in my anger I didn’t see the girl until I nearly ran into her.

Drawing up short I took the last few steps at a slower pace. Using my snail’s pace speed I took the time to look around. The child seemed to be alone and that didn’t sit right with me.

Keeping a safe distance I thought the girl might have been crying her eyes were so red. That or she had really bad allergies. Looking her over I couldn’t see that she had been hurt. There were no visible bruises or blood.

“Hey,” I greeted, trying to keep my voice calm. “You must be new here. Are your parents around?” When she didn’t answer me I took a quick look around the lobby. Sure enough there were no parents hiding in the corners “Did you just move in? Forget which apartment is yours?” I asked, feeling uneasy under her red eyed gaze. “Can you tell me your name?”

Instead of answering me the girl took a silver comb from a pocket in her dark green dress that looked as if it come from another era and began brushing her waist length white-blonde hair.

“You are Danton DeAngelo are you not?” The girl asked in such a thick Scottish accent I had a hard time understanding her.

“Do I know you?” I countered, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end.

The girl smiled, “Not yet, but we share a special link and I would know your intentions before you leave your house this night.”

“Who are you?” I demanded, ill at ease with the child who spoke and looked so different. Obviously she thought my question was funny because she gave a half-hearted laugh.

“You have phrased your question wrong, mortal. You should be asking, what, instead of who!”

Inhaling, it was like I’d swallowed a handful of metallic Pop Rocks. The buzz of electricity swept over my skin as the girl began to grow tall. Her waist length hair grew until it brushed the back of her knees and the green dress she wore was now a somber gray.

Shock had my knees giving out and as I slumped to the floor the woman changed again. Shrinking down, her smooth skin became wrinkled with age. The knee length white-blonde hair became a silver-gray that brushed the floor. Her gray dress was now a pitch black cloak that covered her from head to toe.

In a swirl of silver and black the figure of the old crane gave way to that of a white crow. Stretching her wings the bird regarded me with the same red rimmed black eyes that girl, the woman, and the crone all possessed.

With one last pulse of energy so thick I could barely swallow the crow again became the little girl.

Speechless I waited for her to say something.

“I am Avelbane. Bean-shidh, banshee, to the mac Alpin blood line and watcher of his daughters. You, Danton DeAngelo, have been chose to be Gra’s mate in this life.”

Mac Alpin, Gra, mate, my frazzled mind struggled to make the connection. “You’re here about Love.”

“You are male and now are consumed with regaining possession of that which you deem yours. Before you leave here, I would have you leaving for the right reasons. Now is not a time to make hasty decisions. Mac Alpin’s youngest triplet cries for you. She bleeds for you as she’s done for no other. She longs to be with you and like her mother, her pride refuses to let her crawl, so she waits. Determined that you will come to her. Every second without you is a dagger to her heart, but one she will bear so as not to unduly influence your decision.”

“Why would she do that?” I questioned.

“For a long time Love has refused to acknowledge to herself or to me that she longs for what her sister has. It is a desire that she has never dared put to voice, only thinking it. Never has Love had the same soul-mate twice. You, Danton, if you agree. If you love her as much as I think you do, you will have more than just this life with her.”

“And why are you telling me this?”

“Love cannot tell you herself as I have not let it cross my lips. I would not want you to go to her ignorant of what your actions will mean.”

“I didn’t know it was possible.”

“It was not until now.”

I nodded my understanding. “How long do I have to decide?”

“The day of your vows and no more. The promise lies only with you. It is yours to receive or deny.”

“And I take it you’ll be watching?” I asked, the question bringing a smile to the banshee’s lips.

“Aye lad, I will.”

“You’ll have my answer then.” I promised, surprised I was not more taken back with Avelbane’s revelations than I would have been prior to Love. It wasn’t every day I had a life changing conversation with a banshee.

“Very well mortal.” The girl inclined her head ever so slightly. “You shall find Love at her home. She returns within the hour. But Danton…”

Avelbane began as I pushed the door open filling the lobby with the late night summer heat.

“I find it curious you did not ask what the consequences would be if you did not agree.”

I smiled, feeling more at ease with myself now that I had made my decision. “I only would have asked had I needed to know.”

With that I ran to my car, ready to see Love.

Chapter 48

Desperate Folks

Love

At E-City, the music was loud and the drinks were ice cold.

I didn’t dance so much as let myself fade into the background. Immersed among the sights and sounds of the club I attempted to leave my personal problems behind. With this level of activity, concentrating on one particular thought for any length of time was impossible.

Nursing the same drink I’d been sipping on for the last two hours, I left the empty glass and money for the bill on the table. Gyrating through the throng of moving bodies, I spied the couples I had matched earlier. Jason was with his Tiffany, Sophie was seeing her best friend Charlie in a whole new light, and this one was about to meet that one.

“Hey,” I shouted, tapping a well-dressed frat boy on the shoulder. “Wanna dance?”

“Yeah. I’m Max.”

“Max, I’m Love.”

Unfortunately for me, Max had a case of the grab hands. I felt immediately sorry for the, yet to be named, next girl.

When the song was over, I headed to the ladies room.

I wasn’t alone. Inside I breathed a sigh of relief, but it didn’t last long. The capacity of the small room wasn’t that

much better than the dance floor. Women of all shapes and sized were elbow to elbow along the long row of mirrors.

“Gosh my feet hurt. If that creep steps on my toes one more time…!” I heard someone complain. Poor Milano Blaniks.

“That guy was so totally checking you out.” Another voice gushed.

“Yeah.”

“Hey, anybody got a tampon? I just started.”

“Bummer.”

I couldn’t help but shake my head at the less than stellar communication being hidden from the males. Even as a female, I had to say, sometimes my own species frightened me.

“I got one.” I offered, passing the sealed tub of cotton under the door, to the hand connected to a pair of Comme des Garcons low top sneakers as I waited for a vacancy at the sink to come open. When it did, I slid in.

“You’re a lifesaver.” The pretty brunette smiled, vacating the stall. She’d paired her sneakers with an eye popping Diane von Furstenburg.

“No problem. I’m Love.” I said, freshening my lipstick.

“Linda.”

“Nice to meet you. Hey! Have you met my friend Max?”

“I don’t think so,” Linda replied, her lips as fresh and glossy as mine.

“Trust me, you’d look so cute together. Come on I’ll introduce you.” I offered, a lie forming on my tongue. “He’s a great dancer.”

Bracing my head against the steering wheel I resisted the urge to rap it a few times, knocking some sense into myself. Belatedly I remembered why clubs weren’t my thing. My feet hurt and my body was still beating in sync with the bass that reverberated throughout the building making me wish I’d stuffed cotton in my ears, consumed more than one alcoholic drink, and like Linda, had worn tennis shoes. But it had done the trick- my own problems concerning true love had been temporarily abated in favor of the true love of others. Three perfectly matched couples, a job well done. I wished them luck in the future. And while I didn’t feel a hundred percent better, there was a marked improvement in my sanity.

Grabbing my jeweled Christian Louboutin’s from the passenger seat I crept up the side staircase in my bare feet.