Cursed (The Brookehaven Vampires #4) (42 page)

“Would you like to hold her?” Amber quietly asked me.

Unable to speak, I nodded.

With the baby cradled in her arms, Amber gracefully stood and gestured for me to sit in the rocker. I took her place, and she gently placed Felicia’s baby in my arms.

She was warm and so small, and as I stared down at that precious little life, I realized, even though I knew the risks were high, and not in my favor, how badly I wanted one.

Tears fell as I stared down at that new little person. She squirmed, just once, let out a tiny little cry, and then her eyelids closed. She was out. She was just a sweet, little ball of innocence.

It didn’t matter where or who she had come from, or how her parents had felt about me, she was pure innocence, and she too had no mother. Or father. She was alone in this world.

In a gentle tone, Amber asked, “Would you mind holding her for a few minutes? I need to speak with Felix.”

“I’m fine,” I croaked w
ithout looking at her.

She gently rubbed my arm, and then s
he and Felix stepped just outside the door. They conversed quietly while I held that sweet little bundle, rocking ever so gently.

I brushed the back
s of my finger against her little cheek and gingerly ran my fingers through her mass of dark hair. I wondered what ours would look like…

Oliver made his way to me. He crouched beside the chair
, resting a hand on my knee while his concerned eyes searched mine.

“Are you okay?” he asked very quietly.

I shrugged one shoulder.

“I’m getting some really strong emotions from you, and I, um, I think I might be reading them wrong.” The worry in his voice was evident.

I didn’t say anything. I just held little Justine close and rocked gently while I fought more tears from falling.

“Laney,” Oliver said, softly, “we can’t keep her if that’s what you’re thinking. She already has a family waiting for her. And even if she didn’t…” He didn’t finish whatever he was going to say. Instead, he stood and left the room to speak to Felix
.

Amber returned and disappeared behind the curtain that hid that poor baby’s deceased mother.

I could hear Felix—because it was nearly impossible not to—as he and Oliver spoke. “She has been through a lot, Oliver. Tonight alone would send a regular person over the edge. Wanting something permanent, something that is hers would be a perfectly normal feeling for her to have, especially after all that she has been through and lost.”

Oliver must have said something in response because Felix was quiet for a moment
, but I couldn’t hear him. It made me wonder why they weren’t having this conversation via their minds.

“All she has is you,” Felix
stated. “If she loses you, she will have nothing.”

Yeah, that reminder hurt. Nothing was exactly what I would have.

Felix lowered his voice even more, not that it helped, “Maybe a pet would help.”

Surprisingly, I had to stifle a snort. Yeah, a pet, sure. Or not. A pet was not quite the same thing.

So, they were talking about me as if I couldn’t hear them, this was super awesome, but the fact they seemed to think a pet would not make me want a little person of my own, I found that seriously unlikely.

But Felix did have a point, and it made sense. If I lost Oliver, I would have nothing. Nothing left of him, and nothing left for me.

“Amber,” I whispered. She was next to me a moment later. She took the baby, and I thanked her.

“I completely understand, Delaney,” Amber said very quietly as she cuddled the infant against her chest and took a seat in the rocking chair once again.

I watched her for a moment. I wondered if Amber ever felt just as I did. How many babies had Amber held in all of her years, however many years that was, and how many times had she wished for her own little person? Something that was half her and half Felix…

Without another word, I walked away and found Oliver and Felix just outside Felicia’s room.

Felix wrapped an enormous arm around me and pulled me against him, hugging me as we said our goodbyes. I tried hugging him back, but my arms hardly went around him.

Once Felix released me, I slipped my fingers between Oliver’s and we headed to the car.

We were both silent the entire way home. When Oliver pulled into his parking space at the complex, he turned off the car, and we sat there in the dark for a moment, both of us staring straight forward, looking out at the open area next to the complex.

“I think Felix is right,” I finally said, my voice low and slightly unsteady. “I feel like nothing is secure, or even really mine. I constantly feel like I’m just waiting for something horrible to happen and take away the last of my happiness.” I looked over to find his eyes on
me. I swallowed hard. “I don’t really want a baby. Not yet, anyway.”

He was silent for a moment, his eyes searching mine. Then he said, “You understood him?”

“What?” I questioned, slightly confused.

“What Felix said, you understood it? All of it?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” I raised my eyebrow at him. Had he lost his mind?

“Because every word he spoke to me was in Vampiric.”

“No it wasn’t,” I defended.

“Yeah, Laney, it was.”

I said nothing. I had understood Oliver and Felix in the past when they were speaking in Vampiric to each other, so this didn’t really surprise me. I figured it was just a lingering bonus from Oliver sharing his blood with me, even though all of the other bonuses had faded. Maybe this one would stick?

“Laney,” Oliver said. I returned my attention to him. “You know I love you, and that I would give you anything, right?”

I nodded.

“See!” he exclaimed. I jumped. “You just did it again!” He was actually excited, a
wide grin on his face and everything.

“Did what?” I, on the other hand, was still confused.

“I just spoke to you in Vampiric and you understood every word,” he said, a grin still in place.

“It’s probably just from your blood,” I said. However, another thought occurred to me. I eyed him, prepared to watch for any sign that what I was about to ask might be right. “Oliver, do I have a vampire line in me?”

He leaned across the console and kissed me for a quick moment. When his eyes met mine again, he said, “I cannot tell you more.”

I felt my forehead scrunch. “You didn’t tell me anything,” I said, a hint of irritation in my voice.

He flashed me a really great smile before he got out of the car.

I hurried out
after him and followed him up the steps. I grabbed his hand and tugged him so he would stop and look at me. He was still smiling.

“You didn’t tell me anything,” I said again.

“Maybe I did,” he responded, a wicked little grin picking at the corners of his mouth, the pathway lights causing his green eyes to get a little shimmer to them.

That’s when it dawned on me. Oliver was bound by some enchanted contract. He couldn’t tell me if he wanted to.

He laughed when it hit me. He felt me come to my realization.

He tugged my hand and pulled me along the rest of the way while I processed what just happened.

Once at home, I bugged him about it some more while we got ready for bed, and while I was falling asleep, but he never told me anything that would lead me either way. He did find the whole thing rather amusing, though, and that alone was good enough considering how our day had ended.

Christmas Trees and Dead People

Early Saturday morning, Oliver and I went to Professor McBaldy Bald’s service at the cemetery. It was overcast and cold outside. Rather gloomy, actually. The weather seemed fitting for the day.

We did not get dressed up, and Oliver and I stood at a distance from the others at the service.

Oliver held my hand while we listened to a man, who was holding a bible, speak. His words were sad, humbling even.
“Life is precious, and it can so easily be ripped from us.” Oliver and I knew this all too well. I wanted to be done learning this lesson.

While the man spoke, I tried to distract myself from his
depressing words. I searched the crowd, scanning the faces of each person there to pay their respects. I needed to be distracted, meaning: I was trying not to cry over a man I didn’t know.

I was still emotional over Felicia’s death and the fact her baby would never know her mom. But, being at the cemetery, at McB
aldy’s funeral, my focus was more directed on him—on a man who Oliver or I could have easily been in the place of. A man who had been out in the night to reprimand Oliver and me all because we hadn’t shown ourselves in his class for several days. Guilt, is what I felt. I knew there was nothing I could have done to stop what had happened to my English professor, but as images of him being attacked by a werewolf played through my mind, guilt continued to consume me because I was grateful it was him, and not one of us.

With a gentle squeeze to my hand, Oliver brought my attention to him.

Standing beside him, I looked over at my boyfriend. His glasses were in place even though the sun was hidden behind a layer of gloom. The sad attempt of a smile showed I was not alone in my guilt.

I stepped closer and he wrapped his arm around me as I leaned against his side. Sometimes, the fact he could feel my emotions was a relief. I
wouldn’t have to express how I felt, because he already knew.

Scanning the guests who were seated in metal folding chairs around the casket, I recognized some of their faces. There were several other professors from the college, and Gladys
, the cat lady/vampire slayer, was there. Her eyes caught mine and she smiled ever so slightly at me. The last time I’d seen her, Oliver had been out of his mind, and I had taken shelter with her and her cats.

I slipped my arms around Oliver’s waist, thankful Gladys had been wrong about him that night. Thankful Oliver had come back to me.

The service was sad, but nobody wept or stayed around when it was over. He had no family or close friends to truly mourn him. That was probably more heart aching than the actual service itself.

As we were leaving, I caught sight of Amber. She was under the shade of the trees with an umbrella held open over her. Every inch of her skin was covered by clothing, minus her face, which was shaded by the umbrella. She lifted her gloved hand to acknowledge that she had seen us, then she turned and walked away before we could make our way to her. I wondered how well she had known Professor McBaldy Bald.
Stanley Stuart.
I really should refer to him by his real name…

Oliver and I stopped by Lilly’s grave before leaving the cemetery. I quietly told her that I loved her and that I missed her. Then I kissed my fingers and placed them on the cold stone that
bore her name. It had not gotten any easier to deal with the fact her lifeless body was beneath that headstone, only easier to control the sadness that consumed me each time I paid her a visit.

After we left the cemetery, we headed over to a Christmas tree lot to pick out a tree—a tree Oliver
ended up having to shove into the trunk of his car.

We had walked up and down the rows of trees, enjoying the smell that they gave off—a smell that made the world seem Christmassy—before finally finding “the one.” It was small, perfectly shaped, and inexpensive.

With the tree, we also purchased a stand. Then we took the tree home and put it up in the empty space of the apartment between the front door and the kitchen.

Once we had the tree in its stand, we stood back to admire our first Christmas tree together.

“We need ornaments,” Oliver said, an excited sparkle in his eyes.

“I have some,” I said, then I immediately regretted my words. “At Lilly’s.” Tears were instantly creeping to the surface. I wasn’t ready to deal with the house or the memories.

Oliver pulled me into his arms, and I rested my head against his chest. “It’s our first Christmas together, let’s start with our own ornaments,” he said softly, and then he kissed the top of my head.

“‘K,” I responded, thankful I
wouldn’t have to torture myself with the memory of every ornament from my aunt.

Since I could remember, Lilly had given me a new ornament every year, and for as long as I could remember, each ornament
came with its own memory.

She always gave me an ornament that corresponded with something we had done, with a memory we had created. Like one year, when I was probably fifteen, she
gave me an apple ornament that she had decorated herself. It went with the memory of the apple pie I had tried to make that previous Thanksgiving.

I felt a smile start to form as I thought about that Thanksgiving, and how I had pretty much massacred that pie before it even made it into the oven. I was good at many things, baking was not one of them. Well, not pies, anyway. We had last-minute store-bought apple pie for dessert that year.

Leaving our perfect little tree behind, Oliver and I headed to the corner drugstore. Christmas music played over the speakers, but the drugstore only had one aisle of Christmas décor, and not a lot to choose from.