My Soul Immortal (35 page)

“Who was that?” I ask.

“The beast himself,” Artagan says with a roll of his eyes. “Death.”

I shoot him an incredulous look.

“What did you expect? A robe and scythe?”

“I don’t know what I expected, just not something so… human. So ordinary.”

Artagan laughs. “You haven’t seen him in action. Hold your judgment till then.” He pauses. Then with a wave, he says, “Forget about him. Now, how about that bullet?”

“What?”

“The bullet in your back. Let’s get the damn thing out. Turn around.” He digs into his pocket and returns with a Leatherman.

I swallow hard.

“Come on. It will be fine. I’ve had lots of practice. You won’t feel a thing,” he says, snapping the pliers hungrily.

“No thanks. I’ll keep my little souvenir, if it’s all the same to you.” Turning my back to him, I look out the window.

“Suit yourself, but if I were you, I wouldn’t want a weak spot.” The heel of his hand rams the slug of lead. Fiery currents whip through me, making my eyes water. “See what I mean?”

A sigh breaks through my lips. “Fine.” I yank up my shirt and hunch my back.

His fingers search out the interloper and pull my skin taut. “So how did you get shot anyway?”

The burn of the first rip forces my teeth to clamp together. “Ugh. Playing hero in a liquor store in LA, a few months ago. Guess the bullet was the thing that sent me to Portland—damn, that hurts.”

“I’m almost done. Quit being such a sissy.”

I fight off the wave of nausea. Beads of sweat form along my forehead, and I bite my knuckle to keep from screaming. Finally, I feel the freeing of pressure followed by a gush of warmth running down my back.

“There,” Artagan says, sounding pleased. He holds a cloth to the wound. “Hold this there.”

I fumble blindly with the soft fabric—a handkerchief, I surmise—and press the cloth against the renewed injury.

Out of nowhere, Artagan is talking again, chatting away as if we’re midpoint in a conversation. “So, I found myself in Portland, Maine, for the first time last November. The case needed a personal touch. The target happened to be the director for the Bayside Gallery. While doing research, I stumbled across a painting by an up-and-coming local talent—a Leah Winters. The portrait was of a young man from Victorian times. Strangely enough, I recognized him. The director was kind enough to show me several other paintings by the same artist. You were the overwhelming theme.”

“The night you told me what I was, I told you about Leah. I told you about the paintings and that she remembered. You acted surprised, like you didn’t know.”

“I lied,” Artagan says nonchalantly. “Besides, I wasn’t one hundred percent sure my interpretation was accurate, until you told me. There could have been other explanations for the paintings.”

An irritated huff erupts through my lips.

“Never lied, huh?”

I glance at the window. “Touché.”

Artagan laughs. “Leah’s bio said she was a student at the Maine College of Art. Fancy my surprise when Lydia Ashford came strolling out of Advanced Figurative Painting. From the resemblance, I knew she was the twins’ relation. After Lydia’s death, Domitilla let the fact slip that Lydia was their descendant, not knowing the seemingly unimportant detail would end up biting Vita in the arse. I hoped someday to use the information, but I didn’t know how until after Leah’s name came to me for the gathering.”

“So the phone call was true. Vita wasn’t a threat any longer. You were.”

Artagan nods.

Not attempting to hide my brewing anger, I ask, “Pawns still?”

“I had to keep you in the dark for the plan to have the slightest chance of working. What would you have done if I’d told you Leah was marked for death and yours truly was supposed to make that happen?”

My jaw stiffens. From the pit of my stomach, a snarl rises and bursts from my throat. I twist in my seat, wanting to hit something—anything. In truth, Artagan’s jaw would satisfy nicely.

“Point proven. And you should know that if you strike me again, I’ll return the favor.”

“You’re lucky I came to Portland at all.”

Artagan snorts. “Luck. I had to get you out of that hellhole somehow.” He drops the mangled slug into my lap.

I blink. “What?”

“I have a bit of a gift. Well, all descendants do. Most just don’t know how to use the ability.” Artagan smiles. His forefinger taps against his temple. “I had that punk shoot you. The voice in your head, sometimes that’s me.”

“You crazy son of a—you manipulated that boy. And me.”

“‘Manipulated’ is a strong word. I simply influenced your inner decisions.”

“That’s manipulation,” I grumble, not liking how often Artagan is pulling my strings.

He shrugs. “I couldn’t make you do anything against your nature. And foolish me, I figured you might want to know the girl you loved was wandering around… alive.”

He’s right, of course, and he knows it. I would have done anything and risked everything for this outcome.

He reaches into the breast pocket of his blazer. “I believe you’ll be needing this,” Artagan says, presenting my grandmother’s ring clasped between his thumb and two fingers.

I nod, taking Leah’s ring, then slide the band onto my pinky. “Thanks.”

Artagan sits quietly, gazing out the window, twisting his gold ring around his finger.

“Your ring, is it special?”

“No sentimental value, if that’s what you mean. Just a trinket I picked up in Rome. It serves as a reminder that there’s always a way out of any situation, even if the way means great sacrifice. You see, it’s a poison ring.” Artagan flips up the black onyx stone to reveal a small compartment with a small green pill tucked inside. “Having a mother who was an apothecary has its advantages. She taught me well. The pill’s hemlock and salt, my backup plan,” he says, snapping shut the small lid.

I grin then slide the plastic bag out my pocket and hold up my hemlock concoction.

Artagan lets out a laugh. “That’s my boy.” He returns his attention to the window, a grin still glued on his face.

After that, I have a considerable amount of alone time on my hands. Artagan’s grown quiet again, seeming lost in his own thoughts. I watch the passing countryside through the streams of rain. I have so many things to think about. Because of Artagan and his insane plan, Leah is mine forever. I never have to say good-bye.

The train slows, and a gravelly voice over the loudspeaker announces that we’ve arrived in York. I stand before the train comes to a complete stop. I elbow impatiently through the wall of bodies, Artagan following close behind.

Out in the fresh air of the rainy night, the crowd thins. I turn to Artagan and extend my hand. “Thank you for everything.”

“You’re very welcome. I’m sure we’ll bump into each other again.” He smiles. “I’ll see to it.”

I leave him standing by the station doors and begin to run. Artagan’s laugh echoes down the narrow street then fades.

My feet beat against the pavement while my heart hammers in my chest, both longing to get to her. I run through the arched gate of the wall, past the homes, and then over the bridge into York Minster. The cathedral’s lights gleam brightly, sending beautiful colors through the stained glass and into the darkness of the night sky. Organ music fills the air, mingling with the sound of the light pattering of rain, hitting the pavement.

So close.

Around the next corner, the hospital comes into view. I run through the front doors then race along the zigzagging corridors, leaving a trail of exasperated faces and shouts of disapproval. Ignoring the elevator, I take the stairs three at a time. After what seems like an eternity, I stand at Leah’s hospital room door. The machines that kept her alive are gone. She is sitting on her bed, her face buried in her hands, her body trembling. At her side, Grady rubs her back and whispers. His eyes shift to the door. Doubt folds his brow and narrows his stare, but as his shock withdraws, his face relaxes. A murmur slips through his lips. “Leah. Look.”

With red, puffy eyes, she looks up at me. Tears begin to fall freely down her flushed cheeks. She lurches forward, her arms outstretched. I close the distance between us in two long strides. I sit next to her on the bed. She stares at me as if she expects me to vanish in front of her eyes. I gently wind my arms around her shivering frame. She buries her wet face into the crook of my neck. Emotions crash over me when the reality of the situation finally takes hold. She’s here. She’s safe. We’re free.

Grady stands. A smile passes between us as he slips from the room, closing the door behind him.

Driven by a need to see her emerald eyes, I push away, take her chin in my hand, and tug her face upward. I wipe away her tears with my fingertips. “Don’t cry, love. Everything’s going to be all right. Everything’s all right,” I whisper.

Leah studies every inch of my face. “I thought you were… you were… gone,” she says between convulsive gasps.

“I’m here now.” I press my lips against her forehead, savoring the sweetness of her skin.

“Why did you leave?”

“I had to. I wouldn’t have, otherwise. You have to know that.”

She glances away. “What were you planning to do?”

“Save you.”

“Grady told me that much. But how?”

“I went to make a bargain with a group of immortals who handle these kinds of things.”

“Bargain?”

“My life for yours. I’ll never allow anyone to hurt you.”

Anger lights her face. “How do you think I could live without you? Knowing you sacrificed everything for me.”

“For me, hope has made all the difference. None of that matters now.”

“Of course it matters.”

I press my fingers to her soft pink lips. “Please listen. Haven’t you wondered how you went from fighting for your life to arguing with me in just a few hours?” The corners of my mouth inch upward.

Confusion overtakes every aspect of her expression. “What’s different?”

“You.” My smile grows wider.

She wrinkles her forehead and bites her lower lip, obviously trying to wrap her head around a new reality. Then a light of understanding dawns on her face. “Wait a minute. You went to make a bargain. If you succeeded, you wouldn’t be here. You’d be… be…” She runs her hands along the sides of my face. “Are you okay?”

“Everything’s fine. And you, my love, have been granted a permanent reprieve. You’re immortal now, like me.”

Leah sits for a long while, hands folded in her lap, staring at the specks on her hospital gown. “So these immortals let you come back. Did you come to say good-bye?” She snuffles, and tears flow again.

“No, no more good-byes. We’re both safe.”

“Are you lying to me?” She looks up. “Please don’t, not about this.”

“I’m not, love. And I have lifetimes to prove I’m telling you the truth.”

“Lifetimes?”

“Hundreds of thousands. You might get sick of me after that.” I chuckle.

Leah smiles, scoots closer, and begins to trail kisses up my neck, leaving a warm tingling path in their wake. Fire ignites and courses through me when I press my mouth to hers. My need to be closer to her grows more intense with each kiss. I caress her neck down to the arch of her back, pulling her hard against me. Leah pushes me backward onto the bed. Our breathing becomes heavy and jagged. Her fingers tangle in my hair. A low moan breaks free through my lips.

“Leah,” I whisper.

A clearing of a throat interrupts the moment. I glance to find a scowling nurse leaving in a huff. With a giggle, Leah slides off me.

I stay sprawled across her bed, trying to regain my breath. “Ah, Leah, you’re going to be the death of me yet.”

She swats at my shoulder.

“Ouch!” I rub my stinging skin and chuckle.

“Not funny, Jack. Besides, you’re the perfect gentleman twenty-four, seven.” She sits up and retreats to the corner of the bed.

I roll to my side. “Only on the outside, I assure you. So maybe a hospital room with an audience isn’t the best place to test my resolve.”

A hint of mischief twinkles in her deep-green eyes. She snatches a shiny red apple off a tray sitting untouched next to bed and tosses it into the air. After catching the fruit just before it hits me in the face, I look at her wide-eyed.

“Are you ready to stop holding on to the past and start living yet?” she asks.

“Probably not.” I smirk. “Old habits die hard, but we can hope.”

“Did Jack Hammond just say the
H
word again?” She winks and leans forward to kiss me lightly on the lips. As always, her touch releases a thousand maniacal butterflies. Desire stirs within me again. I take in a deep breath then stand. Holding my hands out, palms up, I invite her to join me. With bright eyes, she slips her hands into mine, and I help her to her feet. I release her and slide the ring off my pinky. Squaring my shoulders, I kneel in front of her.

“My heart is and always will be yours,” I say, holding out the ring. “Leah Nicole Winters, I promise to love you endlessly. Will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

A small gasp escapes her lips. She blinks to chase away her tears then smiles. Looking to the heavens, she shouts, “Yes!”

My chest lightens. Pure happiness consumes me. For once, the feeling is not intermingled with doubt, regret, or fear. I jump to my feet. She offers me her hand, and I slide my ring onto her finger.

“I’ve done the asking a bit out of order, though. I should’ve asked your brother first,” I muse, staring at the new promise encircling her finger.

“Jack, you don’t need to ask Grady. I’m a big girl.” A smile breaks across her lips.

We lie cuddling on the bed, my arms entwined around her. In the complete quiet, I find solace in her breaths, her heartbeat, and the touch of her hand.

Leah rolls over, resting her chin on my chest. “You do realize I was right, don’t you?”

“Right?”

She nods.

“About what?”

“I knew this life couldn’t be the end of us.”

I chuckle. Leah
is
right. Somehow, through all the twists and turns fate has thrown our way, Leah saw this end—this future.

“Yes, love, it will be forever.” I flash a smile, and our lips touch.