Rise (Roam Series, Book Three) (29 page)

We boarded the
R.M.S. Titanic
.

Our first class state room evoked the inevitable images from the 199
7 James Cameron movie, but nothing could have prepared me for the way my senses grasped at the dreamlike room before me. The scent of new upholstery combined with the thick carpet beneath my feet sent me to the floor, reaching to trace my fingers over the burgundy and olive design. Sophisticated woodworking on the walls shone with fresh polish. The soft illumination of the candelabra lamps with small, decorative shades gave West a surreal appearance, and I turned, looking at the hand-carved, dark oak bed across from the fireplace.

“I can’t believe this,” I whispered, gaping at the desk against the wall.
“A telephone?”

“To call the bar or the restaurant.
Room service tonight.”

“I want to walk around!” I glanced at the clock on the mantle. “What time do we depart?”

“Nine. We have an hour before the ship starts moving. We need to be ready,” he touched his pistol. “We have until noon tomorrow. I think we should eat and get some rest.”

I inhaled sharply, my fingers locking together as I turned to the bed.

“Roam,” he crossed the room to me, sliding his hands through my thick, black hair. “I’m not going to make love to you, like this. I know you’re in there, but I just… can’t. And though this morning was amazing, I don’t want to push you… into something you’re not ready for.”

“Okay,” I agreed, throwing my arms around him. “Thank you.”

“Hey,” he kissed me softly. “We’ll be okay.”

“Let’s walk,” I suggested, and he grinned, nodding as he took my hand.

My first destination was the grand staircase, and though I expected to feel overwhelmed by the intensity of the history around me, I was not prepared for the profound sadness that weighted my heart. West and I hung back, smiling politely at beautiful passengers destined for an icy grave within only a few days.

The same anxious feeling that burdened my time in the castle returned with force. When I watched Madeleine press her gloved fingers over her waist, I knew I could take no more. “Let’s just go to the room.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

“No… it’s devastating. All of this.”

He nodded, linking his elbow through mine and placing my fingertips on his hand as he led me back to our stateroom. With the door securely locked, I relaxed slightly, pulling the pins from my hair.

“I shouldn’t have brought you here. I forget that you haven’t lived through these years, these tragedies, like I have.”

“It’s not the
tragedy
. It’s not being able to
stop
it.”

“We’ll get off in Ireland tomorrow at two.”

“And then we’ll have to travel back to France to get back to Chicago.” I kicked my dainty shoe at the carpet, the heel digging into the plush threads. “He’ll be in Chicago. Waiting. I can feel it.”

He shrugged his overcoat down his arms, carefully draping it over the back of a desk chair. “I wish that I knew more about Eva… at eighteen. I wish I knew that Violet was safe… and Morgan, and Jason…,”

“And Logan,” I pinched a long, black strand of hair between my fingertips. “Or the two of us, West. Even if Eva is safe… we may not make it.”

“I refuse to believe that.”

He crossed the room to me, tucking his hands deep into his pockets.

“Will we have… more children?”

A slow smile began at the corner of his mouth. “I would like a son.”

“And I’ll teach.
Grade school.”

“And we’ll build a new house-…,”

“What- why? I love your house,” I protested, shaking my head. He sat next to me on the bed.

“Even after all that’s happened there?”

“I’ll carry all that’s happened in my head forever. It doesn’t matter where I sleep.”

Sadness edged in my voice, and he wrapped his arm around me. “How do you feel about a puppy? Eva’s been asking for one.”

Grinning, I fell back to the luxurious bedspread dramatically. “I’ve always wanted a puppy, but my dad said no.”

“Then we’ll
have a puppy. And another son?”

“Or a daughter,” I argued
with a grin, my accent cutting my words into quick, disjointed syllables.

He kissed me softly. “The numbers are changing for Ireland,” he breathed against my cheek. I slid my hands over his face, kissing his knotted brow as he pinned his arm against the bed.

When the new coordinates appeared, he stared down at them. After a moment, he bolted upright, holding his arm out in the lamp light. “What’s wrong?”

“These aren’t for Ireland,” his eyes scanned the room anxiously. “I need a map-…,”

“Hold on,” I moved several, large books around on the desk, shaking my head. “Call and ask for an atlas. They’ll get us one, right?”

West was on the phone in seconds.
He had already begun to decipher the longitudinal position. “41 43 57 49 56 49…,”

“Is it the Atlantic?!” I shrieked
, half-moons left behind from my nails in my palms.

“We have to get off of this ship,” he
growled, lifting his eyes to mine.

“I’m not going to go down on the
Titanic
.” The valet’s knock interrupted us, and I ran to the door, throwing the lock open. “That’s the atlas. We just started moving, maybe they can stop the ship-…,”

“Roam-…,”

Troy appeared in the doorway suddenly; I had no time to comprehend as the pistol touched my forehead.

He pulled the trigger…

And he did not flinch.

“In the end, it is
always so easy.” He cocked the pistol again, adjusting the silencer and slamming the door closed. Staring at West, he kicked Roam’s body over so that she was lying on her stomach. “You want to know why? Because you’re both weak. I thought you were on to something, this last life… marry someone else, find the kid, give her the facts. No emotion. But… as always… love weakens you both.”

West watched as the pool of blood grew to a lar
ge oval around her.

S
he lay face down on the carpet.

In the end…
Mind void of all logical thinking, he started to reach for her, but Troy lifted the M1911 pistol. “She’s dead. Don’t bother.”

He knew
that she was. The numbers on his arm that had appeared only moments before were gone, untraceable, and the roar of blood in his ears was deafening.

“Out of respect for what we
shared,” he glanced down at Roam, “I’ll end the child quickly. You, my friend, are going slowly.”

Gun
holstered at his side, West continued to watch her bleed into the carpet. “You could never accept that she didn’t love you.”

He glared. “
She submitted to me, in the castle.”

“You kept her prisoner and raped her.
Not a victory.
”

Troy took a step back from the carpet saturated with blood. “I would call this a victory.”

“What now?” West started to reach for his gun, but Troy closed the foot between them.

“Now, you both
go down in history.”

His clichéd response ignited the fury boiling at the surface of his chest.
He doesn’t know you’re mortal.

“
It’ll take you a while to get to shore, especially once the hypothermia sets in. I’ll have your daughter by then. Maybe both of them.” He pulled a set of handcuffs from his coat pocket, gesturing to the heavy footboard of the bed. “Over there. You can go down together. My thanks to you for the good old days,” he slapped the heavy, silver cuff over West’s wrist, attaching the other to the bolted foot of the bed.
Reach for the gun… shoot him!

He is immortal.

Don’t get shot. Escape.

Protect Eva.

He stood and stared down at Roam, in Amina’s body. “I’m glad she looked like that. I don’t know if I could have put a bullet in her other pretty head.”

“You knew… that we’d come here.”

He gestured to the printed skin on his arm. “I had your father give us the numbers when we travel through the fountains. It’s amazing how amenable he can be… when he’s starving.”

With that,
he locked the door from the inside and slammed it behind him as he left.

West immediately began to pull at the heavy, claw foot of the ornate bed, cursing the
screws secured tightly to the floor.
Bolt the fucking beds, but don’t carry enough lifeboats.
“Come
on
,” he growled, wrenching with all of his strength.

The flesh on his wrists
tore beneath his pull, and he tried to decide whether to break his wrist.
I’m right handed, it won’t heal… I can’t fight well with a broken wrist.

I can’t fight at all if I don’t get out of here.

The silence in the room broke beneath his panting breath. The smell of death, of blood, inundated his nostrils.

You killed her again… and now Eva.

The ticking clock on the fireplace mantle echoed through the stateroom.

His eyes shifted to Roam.

Her left hand extended lifelessly toward him, her wedding ring now darkened with blood from the pool beneath her.

The heartache would grip him as soon as the fog of disbelief dissipated. He knew it was coming; the facts were before him, the last chances all exhausted.

Roam was gone.

“When I first met you,” he said brokenly, reaching for her fingers, “in France… in 1411, I knew who you were. I felt you… inside of me.” He traced her fingertip. “When I touched you, I loved you. You
were the reason for every minute that passed.” He leaned against the bed. “And when I found you and our child dead in that forest, I knew I’d stop at nothing to find you again.”

Grief danced nearer to him, and he fought back, yanking again at the cuffs.
Call for help, create a manhunt for the assailant, and change history.

Roam is dead.

Mortality came with strengthened human needs; sorrow thickened his blood, and fatigue consumed his body. He closed his eyes, allowing time to slip by.

Defeated.

Jerking awake, he turned to the clock.
Two hours passed?

Get
out, get off the ship, save Eva.

He readied himself to shout, swallowing hard at the lump in his throat.

Before he could open his mouth, he froze, staring at Roam’s finger in his.

Ever so slightly, her finger jerked.

Nerves
. Disgusted, he threw his head backward, searching for breath.

“West…,”

There was no mistaking Amina’s voice. She turned over slowly, and he cringed, waiting for the horror of her mangled face.

Instead, her clear, green eyes blinked several times.
Her forehead, though bloodied, was fully intact.

“What…?”

“What happened?” She sat up slowly, reaching for her head. He watched as she tenderly touched her temple. “He shot me?”

“Oh my God,” he yanked at the handcuffs, reaching for her. “Roam… I didn’t sacrifice my immortality…
Asher gave it to you.
”

“I can’t die?” She sat back, jolting suddenly at the puddle of blood beneath her. “Is this my blood?”

“You can’t die… Roam, get your sword,” he ordered, his heart racing.
There’s still time.

“Yes… the sword,” she stared incredulously at all of the blood.

He remembered the first time he’d died and come back to life. The rapid breaths, the pounding heart… “Baby, take deep breaths. You’re alive, and I need you to help me find Troy.”

“I’m alive,” she repeated, pulling in a shaking breath. “
He shot me, but I’m alive.”

“
You can fight him,” he encouraged, gesturing to the trunk near the end of the bed. “Get your sword,” he repeated patiently. “Cut through the cuffs.”

“Okay,” she nodded, rising to her feet. The tremors in her hands wrenched his heart.

“You’re okay, baby, you’re alive… get your sword,” he repeated.

She bent over the trunk, lifting the lid.
In seconds she held the Hanwei katana sword in her hands, her fingers wrapping around the grip with familiarity. “I remember…,”

“Cut me loose,” he urged, rearing back.

She turned and sliced through the air, freeing his hand before he could blink.

“Where did he go?” Her voice, steady now, was clearly Roam’s. He watched her carefully, pulling his gun from the holster.

“He plans to get off in Queenstown… Roam, you’re changing,” he reached for her face, sliding his fingers through her hair. As the silken threads weaved through his open hand, they turned from jet black to chestnut brown. “You’re becoming yourself…,”