Counselor of the Damned (2 page)

She’d just have to make sure she wasn’t caught.

Chapter Two

Tegonni rose from the plush chair and paced the elegant hotel office. She again considered bailing on this meeting, but each time she turned to Father Morgan to tell him she’d changed her mind, worry lines creased around his gray eyes. She understood. He didn’t want to be responsible for a parishioner’s death, even a vampire’s.

The priest brushed a silver curl of hair off his forehead. “It’s just full dark, so I’m sure he’ll be along shortly. He was so pleased you wanted to meet.” Though his smile was nervous, he managed a soothing tone of voice. “Try to relax.”

She sat back down.
Relax. Right
. She hadn’t told him she was here against Jaime’s orders. She’d explained not meeting the vampire in the Lightworker offices as a “safety measure.” He’d raised a brow, then shrugged his slender shoulders and agreed to set up the meeting in the vampire’s business office.

She rubbed damp palms over her slacks. This might still blow up in her face. She hoped Fernando Amaral was worth the risk.

Low voices sounded outside the door before it opened, revealing a tall man in an elegant business suit. He spoke to someone in the reception area. “Thank you, Phillip. I’ll call if I need you.”

When he turned, she recognized those rich tawny eyes immediately, as well as the solemn face. Both she and the father rose as he walked in.

Amaral grasped and kissed Father Morgan’s hand. “
Father
,” he said with reverence.

In person, Amaral was even more striking. She pulled her gaze away from the attractive lines of his body revealed by the tailored suit and focused on a professional assessment. His skin was a toffee complexion, lighter than her mocha coloring, but hardly the paleness most might associate with vampires. In fact, she’d take him for human if she didn’t know better. An interesting trait, and one that could have allowed him to get close to Father Morgan and the Lightworkers without revealing his true species. Yet he’d been honest. Her heart calmed as she was reassured of his sincerity.

The vampire turned to her with a closed-lipped smile as Father Morgan introduced them. Tegonni, having never met a vampire before, shook off a mix of relief and disappointment at not getting to see his fangs. “Fernando, this is Ms. Ellis of the local Lightworkers. She’ll be…counseling you before you make your final decision about taking the Eucharist.”

Fernando’s expression gave nothing away of his thoughts as he looked at her. She thought she caught the movement of his eyes flickering over her body, but it was too quick for her to be sure. The slow, charming smile he gave her was definitely flirtatious. She smoothed her shirt, nervous under the handsome vampire’s scrutiny.

After a moment, he gave a slight bow. His voice was mild, silky, and rich with a lyrical accent she placed as Brazilian rather than Spanish. “Dr. Ellis, I’m surprised and pleased the Lightworkers would take the time with me. I truly am grateful, despite my tardiness. I had to handle a small business matter straightaway.”

The combination of his voice and his intimate observation brought heat to her cheeks and a flutter to her stomach. Very unprofessional.

“Fernando manages this hotel,” Father Morgan said. “And he’s quite generous with his financial support of the church.”

“Ah…wonderful.” She gave the priest her attention, happy for an excuse to break eye contact with Fernando.

He beamed at her and Fernando. “Well, I’m sure you’re eager to get started, so I’ll leave you to it.” After Fernando kissed his hand again, the priest grasped his arm. “Son, you have more faith and devotion in you than many humans. Consider the possibility Heaven loves you as you are.”

“Only a possibility, Father? See, even you cannot say for sure.”

The priest didn’t respond. He gave Fernando’s shoulder a pat before walking out of the office and closing the door.

Tegonni stared at her new client with curiosity niggling at her brain. “Is that why you want to take communion? To prove Heaven loves you?” She normally would have started with casual, getting-to-know-you questions, but she couldn’t let this perfect opening slip by.

He turned from the door, his jaw set. “Partaking of the Eucharist is the only way to know.”

She took a deep breath. “You don’t wish to die?”

One side of his mouth lifted in a sad smile. “Yes, Dr. Ellis, I do. I already know Heaven does not—cannot—love a vampire. Just as it cannot love a demon or the Demon Lord who created my kind. I do not want to go on as an unlovable thing.”

“If you are so sure, why were you looking forward to meeting with me?”

“Two reasons. One, the father hinted you were seeing me without the permission of your superior, and that intrigued me.”

She suppressed a frown. Of course Father Morgan had guessed.

“Two, I want to ask a favor.”

“Oh?” What could he want from her?

He smiled and gestured toward the two high-backed chairs in front of the picture window. “Shall we sit?

Deciding to let him explain in his own time, she walked to the chair nearest the large, sturdy-looking oak desk and sat. “Of course. Please, call me Tegonni.”

He remained silent, and she looked up.

His golden eyes, shimmering with an inner light no human could boast, gazed back. “In all my years, I have never heard your lovely name before.”

Tegonni chuckled. “That’s saying a lot.”

“May I ask its origin?”

Personal disclosure was within the bounds of the client-counselor relationship. It fostered rapport and mutual trust. She ignored the swell of happiness the thought of sharing a bit of herself with him inspired. “Well, the short version is my father went through a ‘back to our African roots’”—she made finger quotes in the air—”phase when I was fourteen. Besides converting us from Catholicism to Haitian Vodoun—and insisting my sister and I wear nothing but kaftans—he also legally changed our names.” Fernando raised both eyebrows as he sat in the chair opposite hers. “Quite the conversion.”

She wondered if the notion of voodoo scared him, and she smiled at the irony. A vampire thinking she was an evil doll-touting voodooist. “Yes and no. In Haiti, Vodoun overlaps with Catholicism quite a bit. Something to do with the slaves who practiced it being better able to hide it from their Catholic masters. It gets a bad rap, but it’s not as scary as its reputation.”

“Perhaps not, but I have experienced something of this personally. I visited Haiti in the sixteen hundreds. I found the priests and priestesses to be surprisingly powerful. Their gifts didn’t always come from Heaven.” He tilted his head. “You practice this?”

“Some of it. Mixed with a generous dose of Wicca.”

“Ah, a much more benign path. So, your father made you change your name?”

“Oh we loved that part. Mom named me Thelma after her grandma, so picking a new name was a relief. Mom was less than happy about the whole thing.” She shrugged. No need for him to know the messy details.

“
You
chose this name? I’m intrigued. What is its meaning?”

“Nothing I’m aware of. It’s the name of a heroine from an African play. The show was on the story of Antigone, but I can’t tell you much about either plot. I just liked the costumes and dancing.”

“Well, I know nothing of the African play that inspired you, but the Grecian daughter Antigone sacrificed her life to stand against the state and do what she felt was right to honor her dead brother.”

“Ah, a rebel. I’m afraid I don’t live up to my namesake.” She laughed.

He smiled as he sat back and crossed his legs. “Actually, the name suits you,
Senhorita
Tegonni. You have challenged the authority of the Lightworkers on my behalf. I certainly hope, however, you don’t think of me as a brother.”

Tegonni gave a startled grunt. “Mr. Amaral—”

He waved a hand. “Please forgive my teasing, but I so enjoy your blushes.”

She looked down at her hands as she smoothed them over her pants. She tried to put on a neutral face, but her lips twitched in the beginnings of a smile.
My, he is a charmer
. She surprised herself with how pleased she was with his attentions. She needed to redirect this conversation.

Before she could change the subject, he continued. “I pray you don’t share Antigone’s fate. The state had its way in the end, executing her to make an example and keep its minions obediently in their place.”

This new line of conversation was as surprising as his flirting. Executed? She chortled. “Jaime is quite the taskmaster, but I’m pretty sure she won’t have me killed.”

He stared at her without the slightest bit of humor. “Don’t overestimate the Lightworkers’ benevolence because they are on Heaven’s side. Politics govern all thinking beings, and Heaven has its enforcers like any other government.” He paused. “Why are you risking censure to meet with me?”

She leaned toward him. “You seem sincere in your desire for redemption. My job is to try to help in any way I can, even if it’s not possible.”

He nodded, brows creased. “That is why you are helping me. But why are you going against your superior to do so?”

“Because she’s wrong.”

A slow grin curled his full, inviting lips. “See? You are like Antigone.”

She shook off the pleasant tingle that his praise—and smile—elicited. “I don’t think so. I’m not willing to die.” She looked away, regretting her words. Though they were true enough, telling a client she would allow him to be unfairly judged in order to save herself didn’t inspire trust. She peeked back up, gauging his reaction.

Laughing, he rested an elbow against the chair’s high arm and slid his chin onto his open palm. “No, I wouldn’t expect that. I’m the one courting death.”

She gave him a smile she hoped conveyed compassion. “Shall we talk about that?”

He swept his free hand before him. “Of course. Where would you like to start?”

Tegonni relaxed as she settled into the familiar role of counselor. “Perhaps we can start with how you came to be Catholic. I know your human foster father had a relationship with your mother, and raised you after her death. How did he—a man mated to a bloodborn vampire in the fourteenth century—manage to hold on to his Catholic ties? Did your mother keep him as a slave?”

His tone clipped, he said. “No. My parents loved one another.”

She gave a single nod, and gestured for him to go on.

“Forgive me. Your question is valid. Even today, many vampires keep humans against their will, or at least in such a mental fog from their bite that the human’s free will is gone.”

“But not your mother?”

“No. She viewed my father, and in fact most humans, as equal to vampires. She respected his values and beliefs. However, you’re right. While with my mother, he wasn’t very active. I remember going with him to church a handful of times.”

“Her attitude is a rare one. Do you share it?”

“Let’s just say I believe equality is a complex concept. My mother’s issue was being naive and idealistic. Danger didn’t stop her from being vocal about her beliefs or intervening on a human servant’s behalf. My father said her compassion was the quality he loved the most.”

He spoke calmly now, but he’d clearly been angered by the perceived slight against his mother. He must have strong emotions about her death. She didn’t know the details surrounding it, but she wondered if the vampire had been a victim of political intrigue. Naive vampires didn’t last long. She waited for him to continue.

“When we lived in Castile under vampire Clan Eshan, our kinsmen treated us well due to Mother’s close relation to the Clan’s Governor. She was a younger sister, but she wasn’t active politically, or in line to be Conduit.”

“Conduit?”

“A position a female relative of the Governor or Governess takes on. A rather important one. If there’d been any chance of her rising to the office, my uncle and the Clan Council would have tried to sway her from her views or had her removed. However, since she was politically unimportant, they considered her no more than an annoyance. An expendable one.” He stared off, curling his fingers into a fist.

When Fernando remained silent, she prompted him. “May I ask what happened to her?”

He clasped his hands tight, the only indication of how much the topic upset him. “My uncle, like so many ruling vampires, had agreements with the human government. Due to some dispute, an archbishop threatened to try a member of our court for blasphemy if Uncle did not capitulate to his demands. Uncle refused. Even after mother was taken.”

Tegonni sucked in a breath. “She was…executed?”

“Yes. For witchcraft.” He laughed bitterly. “I suppose the archbishop thought it a great joke. So many inquisitors were skeptics and didn’t believe in magic. They were looking for heretics and blasphemers, not spellcasting witches or other creatures of hell. Nevertheless, how else could they explain fangs, her issue with light? The need for blood?”

“I’m so sorry, Fernando. I’m not knowledgeable about the Spanish Inquisition, but…well, her trial must have been terrible for you and your father.”

He smiled, his eyes soft. “Thank you, Dr. Ellis. I don’t remember much, but I’m sure she wasn’t tortured. The archbishop spared her that, at least. Or perhaps the church wouldn’t allow such means. This happened almost a hundred and fifty years before the tribunal you speak of. Different rules perhaps.” The smile faded, replaced with lines of anguish. “She was, however, turned over to the local authorities to be burned at the stake.”

A pang squeezed her chest. Though he referred to a long-ago event, the pain on his face was raw, fresh. She didn’t know how to respond to a historic barbarism coming to life.
The same as any other trauma
. She gathered herself, grateful for her professional instincts. She sat, her posture open, and her expression sympathetic, letting him continue when he felt ready.

“After her death, my father turned on my uncle. Father hated him for abandoning her. Father took me home to Portugal. Flor da Rosa, a small town. Once reconnected with his old family and neighbors, he became involved in the church again.”

“But the church killed your mother.”