Fate Forgotten (43 page)

“I apologize for my behavior,” he said. “But to learn of this the way I did—had I been here, I never would have allowed her husband to mistreat her this way. She never would have been made to endure any of this.”

“Oh?” Meek’s Adam’s apple bobbed again, convulsively. “I had been wondering, of course, why we had never heard of you before now when Mrs. Newcastle has been in our care for so long.”

Thor frowned. “I was overseas. In France.”

“Of course, of course. In the war. A man like yourself, yes. I should have known.”

“If I had known what would happen to Evelyn in my absence—”

“Yes, I see,” Dr. Meek said, making a sympathetic noise in his throat. “Quite. Very unfortunate, the timing of all of this.”

“Unfortunate.” He snorted at what educated men could consider coincidence. So much knowledge, and still they did not see the truth. “Unfortunate does not begin to describe the horrors of that war, nor what this world will face if humanity continues down this path.” His hands balled back into fists at his sides. “If you only knew what you were doing—” he clamped his jaw shut. Too much, and the man would think him as crazy as Eve. “We call it the war to end all wars, but I fear that there is greater darkness ahead, Dr. Meek. Seeing what’s become of Evelyn, how can I think otherwise? Where are the good men to protect women like her, whose only failing has been too much love for a dead man?”

“We have been doing everything in our power, Mr. Sonnungar, I assure you. Dr. Williams is the best in his field, pioneering new treatments for just such cases as Evelyn’s. Your cousin could not be in better hands.”

“Better that she not be in any man’s hands, if this is how she is treated.” He rubbed his forehead. It would have been an easy thing to hand the venom to the right man, encouraging him to explore it as a treatment. Or else the doctor himself? But why? “This cannot be what her father meant for her.”

“Her disorder is hardly something he could have planned for, unless there was some history of illness already. Mr. Newcastle could not tell us if her mother ever exhibited any odd behaviors, of course…”

Thor shook his head. “No. Her mother was perfectly healthy in every way. A lovely woman.” And even if it had been otherwise, he did not dare to speak a word of it. Not when it would only serve as justification to have her sterilized. “Whatever caused this, it has nothing to do with her family history, and everything to do with her husband.”

“Mr. Sonnungar, with all due respect—”

“With all due respect, Dr. Meek, I know Evelyn better than any other man alive on this earth. Better than her own father. Maybe with the other women you’ve worked with you are correct in your theories, but not Evelyn. Not
ever
Evelyn. You cannot use her as one of your case studies, surely you realize that much by now? If she’s being beaten, haven’t you seen the way her body heals?”

Dr. Meek opened his mouth, then shut it, looking back at the door. His forehead creased, his mouth pressing into a thin line. He removed his glasses, polishing them absently with his handkerchief.

“You discounted it, perhaps,” Thor suggested. “Assumed that her injuries had not been quite as severe as they appeared at first.”

“I thought the error must have been mine. But when she lost the child, she was so dehydrated, half-starved. I confess that I’ve never seen anyone in such a weakened state. That she kept that baby as long as she did was something of a miracle.”

“And her medication. The doses she requires are no doubt much higher than any of your other patients.”

Meek replaced his glasses, staring at Thor now. “How did you know?”

“Evelyn and I have always been close.” He held the man’s gaze, willing him to believe, to trust. “If you truly wish to help her, Doctor, you cannot depend on Frank Newcastle. He doesn’t know her the way I do—the way Thorgrim did. And with the way he treats her, I can’t blame her for keeping her secrets.”

“Yes,” Meek replied. “I begin to see your point.” He glanced once more at the door to Eve’s room, and then nodded. “Come with me, Mr. Sonnungar. I have copies of all Mrs. Newcastle’s charts in my office.”

Chapter Forty-one: Present

Her miscarriages had always been rare. Comparatively few and far between. She could go lives without them. Hundreds, even thousands of years. For the most part, she was more aware of her body than other women. More aware of when she could conceive. More knowledgeable about how to take care of herself and the baby inside her as it grew. More capable of caring for it. She rarely if ever experienced morning sickness. And as long as she was careful, as long as she didn’t push herself and her limits, as long as she ate and slept like any other woman, instead of half starved and behaving like an insomniac, her pregnancies had always been without complication. Easy.

But the shock of Adam’s self-destructive act and her own recovery had distracted her. Her relapse, and Lars’s presence confused her further. And she had not noticed the signs. Had not recognized what her body was trying to tell her. Not until it was too late.

She had miscarried in her last life, too. Again and again, in the hospital. After her husband had sent her away. Because once, she had murmured another man’s name in her sleep, and it was only after their marriage that she had realized the kind of man he was. She had watched him beat their dog to death, and when she had tried to stop him, cried and begged him to stop, he had beaten her too. The first of so many, but she had been too afraid of Adam then, and divorce had never been an option she could take. Not without breaking the covenant which protected her. But it drove her husband into madness, thinking she’d carried on some affair, so he locked her away where he could be certain of her fidelity. Listening to so much pain, being treated for a disorder she didn’t have, Eve had gone quietly insane.

She had lain on the floor in her own blood after she lost her baby, crying as her whole body shook from the medication they had forced her to take. Lain in her own blood for hours, because she had not the strength to crawl to the bed, the last of her energy wasted by uncontrollable vomiting.

And when Frank had learned about the miscarriage he’d come to see her. He’d been whipping her with the belt. Shouting at her. Accusing her of murdering his child. Something inside her snapped when his stroke landed across her spine, buckle and all. She had screamed then, not with her hollow voice, but with her mind, and Frank had dropped like a rock. Unconscious by her power. Lucky he wasn’t dead.

Thorgrim had come to her shortly thereafter. He held her, so gently, so careful, until she collapsed into sleep. And when she had awoken, he was still there, watching her. One of the nurses heard her calling his name, and she had been given more drugs, which made her sicker, still.

The next baby didn’t survive either.

“Shh, Eve.” Horus said in her ear. “Quiet now. You’re not there anymore. You’re safe and sound.”

She opened her eyes and stared at the old man. For a moment she thought she saw the shadow of wings, but when she blinked they were gone. She shivered and he squeezed her hand.

“I can see now why you didn’t wish to sleep, if that’s what your dreams have been.”

“You saw.”

He nodded, his face full of sympathy. “You left us for a moment. Too much stress, I think, and the fatigue, combined with such an unfortunate event.”

“Where’s Garrit?” She didn’t try to sit up, though she was in her room again. She remembered that Garrit had carried her to her bed, and Horus had come to see to her. To do what he could to help. And she had slept for the first time in days, unable to keep her eyes open any longer.

“He went to call his mother. They had already left for the zoo, you see.”

The look in Garrit’s eyes as the realization and understanding washed over him had been horrifying. He had appeared haunted by the life, the baby, that he would never know. His face white as a sheet as the past tense she had used sunk into his mind.

“Is he angry?”

“Not with you.” But Horus’s face twisted ruefully, and she thought she saw his regret. “I don’t think there’s any saving his relationship with Lars now. And Adam certainly hasn’t escaped his anger.”

“It isn’t their fault.”

“It isn’t yours either. In this life, or the last. You were only defending yourself, Eve. That’s what God gave you that power for. To protect yourself. To save yourself and your people. And you’ve only ever used it for good reason, which is far more than can be said about your brother. Have peace.”

She blinked again, staring into his grandfather’s face. Peace. It had been a long time since someone had wished her peace outside of a church. “How do you know when it’s right?”

He smiled faintly. “You’re God’s daughter, Eve. He would not want you to stand by and allow yourself to be beaten, to be hurt, to be abused. If he would not allow Adam to treat you thusly, why would he want you to suffer it by any lesser man’s hand?”

“Somehow I don’t think what Adam did or didn’t do had anything to do with what God wanted.” She sat up carefully, and Horus slid a pillow behind her back to help. “And I’m not better than any other person on this earth. Neither is he.”

He leaned back, watching her with amusement. “Aren’t you? Powerful as you are. Immortal as you are.”

“But how much harder they work, with less? How much they’re capable of doing in such short times. I can cook like a chef, but only because I spent lives upon lives doing it. I’m good with children, but only because I can read their minds, because I’ve had life after life to perfect the art of parenting. I can weave beautiful things, but if you had seen my attempts in my first lives, compared to the fabric and designs of the other women, you would know that it isn’t a natural talent.”

“Your modesty is as startling as your brother’s arrogance.” He studied her face, silent for a moment. “That life was very hard on you. Harder than previous lives of similar situation. And yet, here you are.”

She grimaced. “I’d really rather not talk about it.”

“Not talking about it hasn’t helped you. Dreaming about it keeps you from sleep. Maybe you need to talk about it. To cleanse yourself.”

“To you?”

He shrugged. “My purpose now is only to help you, in whatever way I can. To fulfill Lars’s vow in his absence.”

“Lars.” She sighed and looked away. Trying not to think of Thorgrim. “And what exactly was Lars’s vow?”

“To protect you and your family,” Horus said. “To help your family to protect you from your brother.”

“My brother isn’t here.”

“But he is present, all the same. Feeling your joy and your sorrow. There is a bond there that cannot be ignored. Garrit does not yet realize this, focused as he is on Lars. A dangerous distraction, but maybe for the best. Your husband could never be easy knowing it is only a matter of time.”

She frowned. “Only a matter of time?”

“Adam learns even now how best to please you. What to make himself into so that you are not offended by him, by his love.” Horus’s eyes were unfocused. He shook his head and looked at her again, after a moment. “I thought once that God’s plan for this world could be disrupted. But now I see it is all as He means for it to be. His presence is felt. Nothing we do, nothing we believe will change it now.”

It sounded like riddles. And she was frustratingly aware that he wanted her to understand something. But she wasn’t sure if he meant it as reassurance or warning. “Who are you?”

He smiled his grandfatherly smile and patted her hand. “A healer. A friend. And an old man caught up in things he should not have believed he had a right to interfere with. But how could I help these people, if I did not work among them? If I did not make myself available? My brothers never understood my need to be present. And to do all this work, to give so much of myself, only to risk its destruction?” He shook his head again and sighed. “It seemed too terrible a waste. I wanted to keep it whole. I failed, as Michael will as well, as we all have, even your Thorgrim. Perhaps if I hadn’t cautioned him all those years ago, warned him from interfering as I did, things would have been different now.”

“Your brothers—” She narrowed her eyes, blinking against the shadow flaring out from his shoulders. No, not a shadow. Feathers, pure and white, and neatly folded wings. “But you can’t be… an angel? Archangel? I don’t understand, how—what has any of it to do with Thorgrim? With me?” She wished the fruit had been more comprehensive in its gift of knowledge. But she had been wishing for that for eternity to no avail. A ghost she should give up.

“Yes, we all have our ghosts.” He frowned as he studied her again, and he reached out to smooth her hair from her forehead. His hand was cool and dry and his touch was gentle. “And there are some things that are better off not remembered. Not known. At least not yet.”

She gasped as it all came forward at once, and his hand warmed against her forehead. The hospital floor, cold and gritty against her cheek. The agony of the drugs and the treatments and the sickness and the miscarriages, one after another. The anguish of the others around her, and their suffering. Suffering which drove her deeper into despair. Thorgrim whispering to her of how he planned to free her. Holding her in the dark, in the night, hushing her when she called to him. So that the nurses wouldn’t hear. So that the doctors wouldn’t force her to take more of the drugs that made her so sick. So sick she wanted to die. Trying to die to escape the horrors her doctor heaped upon her. Letting her blood drain from her body and hoping it would end it all, hoping she could be freed, could escape. That had only resulted in more drugs, more pain.