Reckoning (4 page)

Sadie does a double take.
 
“You’re actually agreeing with this half-wit?”

She nods, turning to look at Sadie.
 
“I do.
 
If you stick around and do your hero-antics like earlier, you are going to end up hurt, or worse.
 
I can’t let that happen.”
 
Roseline sucks in a breath, dreading her next words.
 
“You both need to go back to Chicago where you belong.”

Sadie explodes in a string of expletives.
 
Roseline ignores her, meeting William’s gaze head on.
 
“This is what you want, right?
 
Well, I am giving it to you.
 
Take Sadie home.
 
Keep her safe.
 
Never let her come back here.”

William’s eyes narrow, wary of her intentions.
 
After a long moment he nods and his confrontational stance eases slightly.
 
“Agreed.”

“Un-freaking-believable.
 
Do you not see me standing here?
 
I have a voice too you know, and I refuse to leave.”
 
Sadie crosses her arms over her chest.

Roseline sighs.
 
She knew this was not going to go over well.
 
“I’m not asking, Sadie.
 
Either you leave of your own free will, or I make you.”

Sadie gasps, shocked by Roseline’s icy glare.
 
A crack forms in her anger.
 
“You…you really want me to leave?”

“Yes,” Roseline replies with a slight waver in her voice.
 
She takes a steadying breath.
 
“Now that you know about my past, you will always be in danger.
 
I can’t risk losing you.”
 
She turns her back on Sadie as she almost adds
too
.

The wounds left by the gruesome murder of her baby sister have only barely begun to heal after three centuries.
 
How many more would it take to rid her of her guilt if Sadie were killed because of their friendship?
 
Roseline shakes her head, firming her resolve.
 
“You have to leave.”

“But Will is just overreacting,” Sadie cries.
 
Roseline can hear the tremor in her voice.
 
She refuses to turn around, to show what this decision has cost her.
 

“I’m sorry.”
 
Roseline walks from the room without a backward glance.
 
The instant she is out of sight, she crumbles back against the wall.
 
She holds her head in trembling hands as tears burn her eyes.

William rushes to the doorway and calls her name.
 
Roseline turns to look back at him over her shoulder as tears rolls down the curve of her cheek.
 
He winces but shoves his shoulders back, determined.
 
“Thank you.”

“For what?” she asks.
 

“For letting Sadie go.”

Chapter 4

Roseline’s bag lies open on top of a bed in one of the many spare rooms in Nicolae’s home.
 
It bulges with fatigues, weapons and miscellaneous supplies.
 
She sinks down onto the maroon down-feather blanket, winding the laces of a pair of military grade boots around her ankles.
 

She fights hard not to think about Sadie two floors below.
 
Her intense argument with William lasted nearly an hour before everything fell silent.
 
Roseline’s stomach rolls with guilt.

She never should have gone to Chicago.
 
Never allowed herself to care about the siblings.
 
It was her own weakness, her selfish desire for a normal life that drove them to this point.
 
She tosses two pairs of pants into her bag, annoyed with herself.

“I’m surprised you’re still here,” a voice calls from behind.
 

She whirls around, dropping into a protective crouch, silently scolding herself for being so careless in a hunter’s home.
 
Nicolae grins, leaning heavily against the dark mahogany doorframe.
 
“Second time you let someone sneak up on you today.
 
I guess I should be proud of that.”

“Actually it’s the third, but you only get credit for two of those,” she snaps.
 
Roseline instantly chides herself.
 
He
did
just save her life.
 
“Nice to see you on your feet again,” she amends.
  

“It’s good to be alive.”
 
He steps into the room, his hand skirting along the rich navy blue and maroon stripped wallpaper for support.
 
“I saw Grigori downstairs.
 
Looks like you didn’t bother to ask for these supplies.”
 
He points to her small pile on the bed.
 

The springs of the mattress creak as Roseline shoves a black tank top into her duffel bag.
 
“I didn’t realize I had to ask permission from your chauffeur.”

Nicolae chuckles to himself.
 
His fingers run along the wainscoting that hugs the lower half of the wall.
 
“You really don’t pay attention to much, do you?”

Her hand clenches tightly around a pair of socks.
 
She raises her head to look at him.
 
The flickering light from the golden candle sconces beside his head creates a dim halo around his head.
 
“Do you really think Sorin would have some lowly servant drive him around?” Nicolae asks.

Of course not.
 
She inwardly berates herself for another slip.
 
Nicolae is right.
 
Four mistakes in one day is beyond pathetic, it’s dangerous.
 
She must focus if she has any chance in tracking down Gabriel.

“He got in my way.
 
I moved him.
 
Simple as that,” she says, knowing that breaking Grigori’s nose is the most fun she’s probably going to have for a while.
 
The floorboards creak underfoot as she moves to retrieve a pair of black pants from the glossed wooden chest-of-drawers beside her.
 

“Well, it’s nice to see you are back to full health.”

Her head falls to the side as she exhales deeply.
 
The pinched skin around her eyes softens as she turns to face him.
 
“I suppose I should thank you.”

Nicolae blinks rapidly as through trying to wrap his mind around her gratitude.
 
 
“Nah.
 
That would make things awkward between us.”
 
He waves her off.

Roseline scoffs, shifting to lean back against the chest.
 
“More than they are now?”
 

Who would have thought she was capable of having a civil conversation with a hunter, in his own home, no less?
 

“Good point,” he chuckles with a slow, disbelieving shake of his head.
 
He approaches with a hint of a limp, each step labored.
 
His fingertips brace against the bedside tabletop, as if struggling to ward off a dizzy spell.

“Are you ok?”
 
Roseline asks, brow furrowing

“I’m fine.” His chest hitches as he slowly breathes out. “Or at least I will be with a bit of rest.”

Pursing her lips, Roseline hesitates, but returns to her packing.
 
He is not her concern.
 
She grabs an extra pair of boots and shoves them on top of her gear.
 
It is a tight fit.
 

Nicolae’s fumbling draws her attention.
 
His hands flail about under the far bedside table, his tongue thrusting between his lips as he searches for an unseen object.
 
“Ah, here it is.”

Instinctively, Roseline sidesteps, her hands raised in defense as he raises a dagger.
 

“Don’t worry,” he says, “I’m not stupid enough to attack you.”
 
Nicolae offers a bemused smile as he tosses a small silver knife to her.
 

He winces, rubbing the fresh stiches from his chest wound.
 
Vladimir’s arrow missed all major organs but the wound will take time to heal.
 
He is still battered and bruised from the earlier battle.
 
The death of his uncle weighs heavily on his mind, as does his responsibility in Sorin’s wake.

The blade makes a complete revolution before her delicate fingers snatch it from the air.
 
It is small, barely larger than an extended pocketknife, when she removes it from the white sheath.
 
The silver blade glints in the candlelight.
 
Judging by the intricate design, Roseline would guess it to be of French make.
 
 
“What is this for?”

“It’s a present.”

Her eyebrows hike in surprise.
 
“For?”

Nicolae smiles as he sinks onto a dark blue velvet chaise lounge under the window.
 
Matching pillows, fringed with gold tassels, spill over onto the hardwood floor as he squirms to get comfortable.
 
“Take a look.”

The detail is extraordinary.
 
Each design has been hand carved into the malleable surface.
 
Roseline cannot help but marvel at the workmanship.
 
“Look closer,” he urges.

She draws the blade to eye level.
 
At first, the inscription is not noticeable in the dim light, but there, entwined with a blooming flower, is a message.
 
Her hand covers her mouth as she reads the words: Immortal Rose.

Roseline stares at the inscription.
 
Her finger strokes it, her eyes darkening as the painful memories surface.
 
Memories of a love shared and lost a lifetime ago.
 
“Fane.”

Nicolae watches as she gently cradles the knife to her chest.
 
“I stole it from Sorin’s room when I was younger.
 
I am not really sure why, but I felt like I was supposed to have it.
 
It wasn’t until last night, when Fane risked his life to save you that I realized it was meant for you.”

She carefully tucks the blade into its cover.
 
Slouching onto the bed, she bows her head.
 
Fane’s handsome face fills her mind, sawing her heart in two as she relives his suggestion to turn Gabriel.
 
No, it was more than a suggestion.
 
He had given his permission for her to love another and finally proclaimed his own surrender.
 

Her voice is barely above a whisper when she finally speaks.
 
“I remember this now.
 
Fane bought this dagger for me as a token of our time spent together in Paris but I never received it.”

“I went on ahead of him,” she says, her voice cracking, “he was supposed to follow within a day, so as not to raise Vladimir’s suspicions.”
 
She turns and places the knife into her bag, wishing she could tuck away the painful memory just as easily.
 
Pulling the sides of the bag together, she seals it.
 

“What happened?” Nicolae leans closer.
 
 

Her countenance shifts.
 
Sorrow melds into anger.
 
Her head rises, an icy glare rests on him.
 
“Fane was ambushed before he could give it to me.”

The chair creaks as he shifts.
 
He draws back against the pillows, darting a furtive glance in her direction.
 
“I know this story.
 
Sorin must have told me a thousand times.
 
He was so proud of his accomplishment: cornering Fane in Notre Dame Cathedral.”

Her chin trembles.
 
Sorrow cascades into her chest as she hugs herself.
 
“I waited for days.
 
Each night as dusk fell, I would sit in my room, staring at the roots of our beech tree, where he promised to meet me, praying he would appear.
 
Three weeks passed and I had all but convinced myself he was dead.”

Nicolae shifts closer.
 
“Why did it take him so long to return?”

Roseline pulls her arms away from her waist as her vacant expression clears.
 
Burning resentment replaces sorrow.
 
“Your uncle hacked Fane to pieces.”
 
Her nails pierce deep into the flesh of her palms.

“Nearly every muscle was torn from his bones, but somehow Fane managed to strike back with that blade.”
 
Her gaze pulls toward the knife hidden in her bag - Fane’s saving grace.

“He endured unimaginable agony, refusing to use human blood to rejuvenate.
 
Sewer rats and baby sheep kept him alive long enough to journey home.
 
I have no idea how he had the will to survive.
 
Animal blood will keep you alive but it won’t heal you.
 
Fane had to wait for his wounds to repair on their own.”
  

Nicolae’s fingers clamp down around his kneecaps as a look of revulsion settles onto his handsome face.
 
“I’m sorry.”

 
“Sorry?” Roseline hurls her bag across the room.
 
It explodes in a shower of clothing.
 
“Fane is a good man.
 
He did not deserve to be hunted and slaughtered, like an animal.
 
He never wanted to hurt anyone.”

“I know,” Nicolae whispers.
 
His eyes bulge as Roseline snatches him by the neck and slams him against the window beside the chaise.
 
The frame rattles and the floor length curtains billow.
 
Her nostrils flare as she fights for control.

“Release him!”
 
Grigori leaps into the doorway, his gun zeroed in on her heart.
 
He is not alone.
 
Five other men cover their commander’s back in the darkened hall beyond.
 
The fleshy scar carved into Grigori’s face puckers as he squints into the scope on the top of his gun.
 
His swollen eye and broken nose makes the task difficult. Twin tissues, stained red with blood, clog his nostrils, making his command sound nasally.

“Its fine, Grigori.
 
You may leave.”
 
The giant of a man shakes his head, refusing to obey Nicolae.
 
His boots remain glued to the threshold.
 
“Leave.
 
Now!”