Fallen Eden (2 page)

William had been doing his dutiful part as an Immortal this past summer in hopes he’d gain favor from the Council so they might consider granting us a Betrothal. He was doing this all for me, because I’d asked him to—it was ultimately my decision that tortured us both by the thousands of miles that separated us more days than we were together. Yet another thorn in my side senactually, this was more like a stake through my heart—was an Immortal stipulation that we were not allowed to choose who we wanted to spend our lives with.

The Council did that, by granting Betrothals they deemed satisfactory by plugging an equation into their dimwitted minds and shooting an answer out their butts. It was a bunch of bull to me, but Immortals were as merciless as they were dogmatic and I knew the penalty William and I would face if we broke the rules. I didn’t mind risking my neck to shun the Immortal way if it meant being with him every way possible, but I wouldn’t risk his. Not again.

“She did better this time, too,” Cora lied, looking at me with a knowing expression. “She got out of bed most mornings on her own”—another lie—“and even managed to kick Patrick’s butt a couple of times during her training.”

This was actually true. The Council had assigned my strength training to Patrick—William’s younger brother, Joseph’s older brother, and my biggest bother—who was as adept at martial arts as he was at running his mouth. Patrick was my age, the worst kind of good-looking because he was fully aware of it, and incorrigible in the non-charming kind of way, although there wasn’t a fiber of his make-up he didn’t see as charming. He’d classified himself as a lady’s man first and foremost, although I had yet to see him with an actual lady who wasn’t his sister-in-law. For the past few months, I’d spent a few hours every day learning how to spar, jab, block, and generally become a butt-kicking, bad-ass Immortal thanks to Patrick.

Despite my earlier view of Patrick being a carefree charmer who would rather smirk at responsibility than embrace it, he’d proven me wrong. But this was Patrick we were talking about, so he could always be counted on to add some infuriating comment or  obscene gesture just when I’d let myself be impressed by him, and the past few times, I’d been angry enough to drop him, thanks to the moves he was teaching me.

William released his hold on Cora and slid back to me, eyeing me with pride. “Bryn’s a woman of many talents,” he said, his eyes flashing with a hidden meaning that made me blush. He drew me back to him and placed a kiss over my forehead. I felt a little self-conscious having Joseph and Cora as an audience to our intimacy, but William didn’t look the slightest bit uneasy.

He lowered his mouth to my ear. “I’m whole again,” he breathed. I didn’t need an explanation—I couldn’t have understood what he meant better.

I unhooked one of his hands from my waist and lifted it to my heart. “Me too.”

He closed his eyes and left his hand where I held it against me while his expression grew peaceful and the lines of exhaustion etched in his face (he always came back with the pain of his missions carved into it) melted away and he wore the face of William that was rare. It was a worry-free one.

“Why don’t we have a seat and catch up?” Joseph suggested, just in time too, because my heart was not the only thing acting erratically from the continued pressure of his hand. The only thing that kept me from wrapping myself around him again was Cora and Joseph’s proximity to us. I surely would have kicked or punched them as my limbs searched for their places to attach.

William gathered up my hands and led me to the recliner stuffed in the corner of the living room. It was something straight from the seventies—olive green, threadbare along the arms, and downright ugly, but it was Joseph’s favorite piece of furniture in the entire house that was brimming with modern designs and comforts.

Being the wife she was, Cora didn’t relegate the recliner into a back room or office, but put it on display in the living room, much to her chagrin. She scowled at the thing every time she looked at it and William and Joseph had made it their mission to use it every chance they got just to prove its worth.

William plopped down in the chair that belonged in the bargain basement of the Salvation Army and pulled me down onto his lap. Maybe this ratty old thing wasn’t so bad after all . . .

Cora smiled without humor at William, while the two brothers exchanged grins full of camaraderie. I curved my head into the bend of his neck, breathing in the scent of him that was aromatic in a spicy/woodsy kind of way . . . in a delicious kind of way.

Whenever he was gone, I found myself making a lot of recipes with cinnamon. When I’d added it to taco meat one night, I’d been banned from the spice cupboard and doled out whatever I needed from Cora or Joseph in rationed quantities. I also found myself lying in the center of a forest after a rain storm, when the scents of the musky woods would be at their strongest.

If being in love made a person mad, then being away from the one you loved made you a lunatic. I recognized the symptoms and knew I was walking the fine line of sanity virtually every hour he was gone.

“How was Africa?” Joseph asked, his amusement dimming.

“Long,” William said, sighing. “Not much has changed from the last time I was there, either. Although this time, the pieces of human bodies I was putting back together were those of the tribe who did the massacring last time. It never ends . . .” His voice sounded heavy, tired even. “For every body I’d sew back together, there’d be ten I couldn’t. There’s so much evil out there,” he said, his body growing tense. “It never ends. It never will end.”

Cora chimed in before Joseph could: they were both hopeless optimists to the end “But there’s plenty of good out there that’s worth protecting, don’t forget that, William.”

He took in a heavy breath, my chest rising with his. “You’re right, although it’s difficult to remember when everything good in your life is half a world away.”

“I’ll second that,” I mumbled.

 “How’s the family been?” he asked, tracing patterns into my palm.

“You haven’t seen anyone else yet?” Joseph asked and I wondered if he was being serious. When his smile broke, I knew he wasn’t.

“For some reason I just had to get here first.” William’s arm tightened over me.

Cora jabbed her husband in the ribs as she took a seat beside him on the couch. “Father’s been alright, kind of removed.” Joseph rubbed at his ribs, feigning agony. “Well, more than usual, at least. And Nathanial and Abigail—”

Cora set her jaw and exchanged a quick look with me; this had been a regular topic of our morning conversations. The oldest Hayward brother and his wife had gone from disinterest, to dislike, to disdain for me. If I answered the telephone in Joseph and Cora’s house while one of them was calling, they hung up. Maybe they didn’t know Joseph and Cora had this twenty-first century invention known as caller ID.

Then again, maybe they did.

“Let’s just say they’ve been just as ‘friendly’ as ever,” Joseph finished, pointing his eyes at me to demonstrate who their “friendliness” was directed at.

William exhaled, popping my chest forward with a sudden burst, and I felt a flash of anger so scalding running through him it was uncomfortable.

“Any news from Newburg?” William asked, keeping his tone regulated, and I’m sure a silent, but potent exchange was taking place in his eyes to his brother. He didn’t want me to worry about any retribution or payback we might suffer from John Townsend’s Alliance of Inheritors.

Four months back, when William saved my life by making me Immortal, I’d wound up at Townsend Manor where he was posing as a professor in the most powerful and destructive Inheritor Alliance in the world in order to unveil how they were upending the Mortal world so the Guardians could put a stop to it. The night before I was set to escape from Townsend Manor, I ended up Betrothed to John Townsend, the most powerful Inheritor, the most corrupt Immortal, and the man most capable of making my skin crawl. Twelve hours later, he had me sentenced to death, where he and his six other Council members very nearly succeeded in sucking away every last drop of . . . me.

The night of the Betrothal Ball when I’d been Betrothed to John, I knew I’d wind up dead because of him one day, but I suppose I’m to blame for expediting it by him finding me making out in bed with William, who he also discovered that same morning had been betraying him the past ten years. Talk about the perfect storm. 

“No, it’s been quiet,” Joseph said, dropping his head. “
Too
quiet.”

William nodded and I sensed a storm of contemplation roll through his mind.

The pensive silence was shattered by another Hayward entering the living room. The screen door slammed shut again, but this time it didn’t announce my beloved, but my bane. I sighed before he opened his mouth, already well aware of what he’d be serving. Sarcasm with a side of ego.

“Hey-a, William. Welcome back!” Patrick hollered across the room, though he was less than five paces from the four sets of Immortal ears that could have heard him a mile away at that volume. “Didn’t you just leave?”

Patrick smiled one that was the devil incarnate at me. I sneered back. This had been a typical transaction between Patrick and me this summer and a large reason why I’d become such an adept and capable student: the sooner I learned how to kick his butt, the sooner I could actually
do
it.

“Go away, Patrick,” I snapped, but it was half-hearted in delivery at best. It was impossible to be irritated by anything with William’s and my reunion just minutes fresh.

His smile grew and the tease in his eyes was so extreme it was spilling from them. “You don’t think you’re going to skip out of training today just because my brother . . . whom you’ve mistaken for god,” Patrick said, raising an eyebrow, “is home now, do you?”

“Actually I do and I’ve got something else to add,” I said in my no-room-for-negotiation tone. “No training any day William’s home.”

Patrick huffed, crossing his arms. “The Council will love that. I’m sure I’ll have no problem whatsoever getting that approved. This is how I’ll put it before them—my student, Bryn Dawson, you know, the rebellious, chip on her shoulder newbie, requests that she not have to undergo any kind of training when my brother, William Hayward, is in town, so they can do a handful of filthy little things they’re admonished from doing by a law that was laid down by the ancients of our kind. Could you just sign off on that right here?” Patrick air-clicked an imaginary pen, smirking at my scowl.

“Actually, why don’t you spend the afternoon with Patrick,” William said, fastening his hands over my hips and hoisting me up with him. “I’ve got a meeting with the Council this afternoon, so I’ll be gone until later this evening.”

My face was already in full pout mode when I turned to him. “You’re leaving? You’ve been here a whole three and a half minutes,” I whined. He’d been gone a whole month and the Council couldn’t give us an hour to catch up before stealing him away for some silly meeting that was scheduled to keep us apart (or at least that’s what the paranoid piece of me thought).

He ran his fingers down the side of my cheek. “I’ll be back soon,” he reassured me. “Once you’re done showing Patrick a thing or two. I’ve got big plans for tonight.”

My heart flat-lined before charging back to life. “What kind of big plans?”

William’s eyes left me and created a triangle between the three Haywards. “If you’ll excuse us, I need to talk to Bryn for a moment alone.”

“Of course,” Cora said, already clearing out of the living room, grabbing the sleeve of Joseph and pulling him with her.

She cleared her throat once they were in the hall. “Patrick?”

“I’m coming, bossy,” he yelled at her as he approached us.

William stepped around me and crushed his arms around him. “Thank you, Patrick. Thank you for taking care of her.”

Patrick slapped William’s back a couple of times. “Not a problem,” he said, turning to me and winking. “I think I get what you see in her.”

I smiled, but had to counter it by rolling my eyes.

“I’ll let you say your . . .”—Patrick cleared his throat—“
goodbyes
.” He nudged his brother and swerved towards the hall. “I’ll be in the kitchen whenever you’re ready, Bryn,” he hollered back needlessly. If he wasn’t in the Maserati or exchanging spars and sweeps with me in the training arena, he was in the kitchen. He would have slept in the kitchen if a bed would have fit in Charles’.

William wrapped his hand around mine and pulled me to the front door, holding the screen open for me to pass through. 

“Have any plans this evening?” he asked, settling a piece of my hair behind my ear.

“I had so many,” I replied, trying to keep a straight face. “I suppose I could cancel and reschedule if you had something else to persuade me with.”

His eyes were so pale in the early morning light they glowed as he leaned his face down to mine. The pale blue all Immortals are reborn with, until a sapphire color takes its place once a couple is United . . . in more than one way. “I think I have an evening planned that promises persuade-ability,” he whispered, his breath fanning over my face.

I understood why he’d excused us from his family; he had a special night planned for just the two of us, something the Immortal world didn’t allow since we didn’t
technically
belong to one another in their eyes. Not that the three family members back in the kitchen cared if we spent as much time together as possible, but William and I were emphatic that we would not jeopardize them. Their faithfulness to us would not be returned with discipline from the Council if they discovered Patrick, Joseph or Cora knew about out private meetings.