Sanctifying Grace (Resurrection) (9 page)

But in spite of it all, I knew that if I had to, I would do it all again. Anything to keep Roman’s secret safe. Anything to keep Roman safe.

I got out of bed later that afternoon, after a lot of help. I glared balefully at the wheelchair, but reluctantly accepted its mute assistance when I realised using it was the only way I was going to get around the house. My legs refused to work; I still had feeling in them but they wouldn’t do what I wanted them to do. There was little in the way of muscle control and no strength whatsoever. My right arm was only marginally better, but at least my left was, for the moment, behaving itself.

I was pathetically grateful for this, even knowing the situation was no more than temporary. My speech was worse, too
, and eating was a chore, my near strangulation notwithstanding. I was clumsy with my left hand, the right lying uselessly in my lap, but I refused to let my mother or anyone else feed me. I would try to retain as much dignity as I could, for as long as I could.

My physical world was shrinking in on itself and the only escape left to me was my mind. Inside my head I was free to be who and what I wanted to be and over the next few days I spent a great deal of time trying to remember everything I could about my life. That these memories would die with me didn’t matter: I enjoyed reliving them as best I could. Some were hazy and indistinct, snippets of scenes
: being towel dried by a well-wrapped and rather cold mother on a chilly day at the beach, me blue with cold but itching to get back into the water; standing around the Christmas tree, Ianto and I squabbling over where we wanted to place each beloved hand-made decoration; playing the lead in the school play and remembering how knee-tremblingly scared I was to be standing in front of all those people, half-blinded by the lights.

Other memories were as vivid as if they had occurred yesterday
. My very first solo aircraft flight; a holiday in Egypt with Joe; the day I found my London apartment. And each and every moment I spent with Roman. Those were the clearest memories, perhaps because they were the most recent, but possibly because in the few months I had known him, he had become the most important thing in my life.

I had never before experienced the depth of love I felt for him. The love I had for my parents and Ianto could not come close. I loved my family without reservation
, but my love for Roman was that of a woman for a man: passionate, intense, and all-consuming.

My great regret was I would not live to see how this love could be played out. But that was also the one redeeming feature of it; he wouldn’t have to watch me grow old and frail, he wouldn’t witness my human weaknesses. My love for him would be a snapshot in time, centuries for him
, but only months for me.

When I was with him
, I was whole in mind and body. I was complete. And he was the only good thing that had come out of having the tumour. There was no doubt that without this ravenous growth in my brain, I would never have met Roman. I would never have discovered the existence of vampires; a knowledge of this whole new ‘other’ world that no other human alive held. And when I dived into the depths of my soul and asked myself whether I would exchange the tumour and what it had brought me for a normal life where I would never have met Roman, then I would have to say ‘no’. This realisation brought fresh waves of guilt: if I had a choice, I would subject my family to the devastation that my early death would cause for a few short days with this man who, of necessity, would put the quest for blood beyond anything else, including me.

I didn’t recognise the person I was becoming and at this point I didn’t like myself very much.

That was the problem when someone has too much time to think: not all those thoughts will be pink and fluffy. In my case, they were blood- filled and red, with razor-blade edges.

My mother quietly fretted
, but though she might suspect the changes she saw in me were caused by something other than the symptoms of my tumour’s progression, she kept those fears to herself. My father was his usual self, avoiding all references to the future, limiting his comments to the needs of the moment, helping me out of the chair and into bed, wheeling me up the small step that signalled where the old part of the house ended and the new (ish) extension began, bringing me coffee with a straw bent at a jaunty angle when he could see my lips refusing to close properly around the rim of a mug.

Then there was Ianto. He was maturing before my eyes, each day seeing him become more of a man as he struggled to come to terms with the impending loss of his older sister and all it entailed. He would be the one left behind to deal with our parents’ grief; he would become an only child, all the hopes and expectations parents had for their offspring would rest firmly on his shoulders. I
could see in his demeanour that he didn’t intend to let them down.

He said nothing about my most recent escapade until a week or so after it happened, but finally he plucked up the courage to tackle me.

I told him everything.

He sat in stunned silence for a long time.

‘I saw the blood,’ he said, eventually. ‘It was all over your hands, on your face, in your hair. And I saw the bruises on your neck, and I vowed if that
vampire
,’ he spat out the last word, ‘had done that to you, I would hunt him down and kill him.’

‘Ianto – no!’ I tried to keep my voice down. Mum was in the house; she never left it these days, terrified if she did I would slip away. ‘Stay away from him. He’s not some guy you can beat in a fight after a few drinks. You don’t know what he’s capable of.’

‘I would kill him if he hurt you,’ my brother insisted, valiantly.

I put a hand out to him and he took it in his own. It was warm and strong, calloused and roughened from manual work. I squeezed it weakly and he held mine tighter, as if he could prevent my demise by sheer strength of will.

‘I’m serious,’ I stressed. ‘He’s not like anything you’ve ever come across before –’ then I stopped. Actually he had met a vampire, although my brother hadn’t known it at the time. Jeremiah.

I asked if he was still around.

‘I haven’t seen him for ages. Not since before I took you to London.’ He shrugged and I’m sure he didn’t really believe Jeremiah was vampire. He was just humouring me. Nevertheless, I breathed a thankful sigh.

‘Good. And if you do see him again, for God’s sake don’t go near him. He’s dangerous. Don’t speak to him, don’t even look at him. If he suspects you know what he is, he’ll kill you.’

I didn’t blame Ianto for his sceptical expression. If I were in his shoes I would be sceptical, too.

Seeing the evidence of my time travel in bruises and bites, broken bones and bloodied skin, was no rationalisation for what he thought he knew. Ianto’s common sense told him vampires couldn’t possibly exist, and although he did his best to try to believe me, how he thought the world worked took precedent over what his eyes and I told him. I was like a Christian trying to convince an agnostic of the existence of God. He knew there must be something, but he couldn’t accept my explanation or his own eyesight, however much he wanted to. His offer to seek revenge if Roman hurt me was more for my benefit: he never really thought he would have to do it. I hoped to God he was right!

‘If what you say is true, then why doesn’t this Roman of yours sort Jeremiah out?’

I didn’t have an answer for him
, but I tried anyway.

‘There is no telling what might happen if Roman dealt with Jeremiah in the past, before what happens in my time happens. It would alter the future – Roman’s future, and maybe even my own.’ Damn, but this was convoluted and confusing. ‘We’re going to let things alone and try not to interfere.’

‘But you’ve already interfered with the past,’ Ianto pointed out.

I sighed. ‘I know, but that can’t be helped. I don’t have control over this time travel thingy and I can’t anticipate anything or prevent anything. It just
is.
’

Ianto shook his head in confusion. ‘Is he going to make you a vampire, because if he is, he’s leaving it mighty late?’

‘He can’t.’ I explained about enthralling and what it meant.

‘Convenient,’ was his response and I simply knew he had decided everything I had told him was a product of my increasingly damaged brain.

I gave up, not wanting to argue with my brother, even though arguing is something we had always done well and had a great deal of practice at. Today’s disagreement was too fundamental to squabble over. I knew what I knew, and Ianto did, too. It didn’t matter one little bit if I couldn’t convince my baby brother. It would make no difference and would be better for his own health if he thought vampires were all in my mind. I let it drop.

‘How’s your love life?

He grimaced, ‘So, so.’

‘Who is it this time? Do I know her?’

‘Nah, you’ve never met her, but she’s been around for a while. I’ve been seeing her for about six months.’

‘Bloody hell! That’s almost marriage for you,’ I blurted.

He wrinkled his nose. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Not ready to settle down yet and have lots of little Ianto
s?’ I teased.

‘Give me a break! I’m only twenty four,’ he protested. ‘And anyway, she’s not interested in all that.’

‘You must be losing your touch.’ I couldn’t help teasing him, but then I caught the briefest of expressions, quickly masked. My brother, my play-the-field, I-can-have-any-woman-I-want brother, had fallen hard. And, if I read the situation correctly, his girlfriend didn’t feel the same way.

‘What’s her name?’

‘Tisha.’

‘Weren’t you dating her at Christmas?’

‘Yep, same one.’

‘Why haven’t you brought her home to meet us?’ I asked and as soon as the words left my mouth
, I knew why. Me. Ianto didn’t want to remind me that life goes on, that he has a world outside this house, when I so clearly haven’t. Silly, loveable boy!

‘I’d like to meet her,’ I said. ‘She must be something special if she’s kept you interested for more than five minutes.’

‘She is! You wouldn’t believe how gorgeous she is, and she’s smart, too.’

‘She’s a nurse, isn’t she?’ I seemed to recall something about hospitals. He liked nurses, did Ianto: must be the uniform.

‘Doctor. She’s a doctor.’

‘What sort of doctor?’

‘I dunno. Blood disorders, I think.’

I rolled my eyes. That figures. Why did everything come back to blood?

I did a quick mental calculation. ‘How old is she? I thought it took five years to become a doctor and if she’s a specialist…?’

‘She’s never really said.’ He paused. ‘It’s funny, but she always avoids any talk of her age and she doesn’t mention her family, either. She looks about eighteen, though
, and acts a hell of a lot older, but I guess she must be about twenty eight.’

‘Focusing on her career?’ I asked and Ianto nodded. ‘You’ve got plenty of time before you should think about settling down,’ I added.

‘I know, but I really, really like her.’ He sounded like a little boy who was pleading for another go on the swings and we both burst out laughing.

Mum stuck her head round the door and gave a funny smile before disappearing again. I knew what she was thinking: she was pleased I had found a reason to laugh, but cross with Ianto for tiring me. As if not being tired would make any difference. I was suddenly disgruntled and I realised how exhausted I was. Talking for any length of time was a chore as I struggled to form words, and now I was paying the price. But there was one more thing I wanted to say before I gave in to the urge to have a nap.

‘Bring her here. Invite her for tea or Sunday lunch.’

Ianto was dubious.

‘I promise I’ll be on my best behaviour,’ I said. ‘Pinky promise,’ and I held out the little finger of my left hand. He twined his own around it.

‘Sure?’

‘Sure. I need to see this woman who’s got my little brother thinking about something besides sheep and cars.’

And it would be good to see another face, hear another voice. I was seriously bored with only my parents and Ianto for company, and even my car-crash fascination for Jeremy Kyle had palled by now. I’d had a few visitors: Sarah, Grandma, some of my mother’s friends, but I wanted someone new,
something
new to think about. But like a stubborn child who cuts off her nose to spite her face, I refused to be taken out in the wheelchair, to be stared at by strangers. The stranger would have to come to me.

‘I’ll ask her,’ Ianto conceded. ‘After I’ve asked mum.’

I spent the time between then and the following Sunday picking clumsily at the keys on my old laptop, Googling Gaia Industries. It’s amazing what you can find on the internet even using one finger.

Gaia Industries was a well-respected company in the research and pharmaceutical sector. Its main interest was blood related research (who’d have thought it, I muttered sarcastically) and they were making gigantic strides in the area of genetics and disorders of the blood. I searched in vain for any mention of its founder, Mark Fabius, but Roman had covered his tracks well. He wasn’t mentioned in the Companies House site and there was no trace of him on the Gaia Industries website, or anywhere else on the web, for that matter.