Forbidden (34 page)

Something should be said. Just in case. In case Rachel never saw Jonas or Sally again. In case she never saw tomorrow.

It wasn't a possibility she wanted to think about, but it was as obvious as the sun that rose steadily in the blue sky. This could be their last day. They might die. Reality flashed as bold as the red and golden rays spraying across the blossoming sky.

Placing a hand at the small of her back to knead the ever-present ache, she came down the front steps. Jonas placed a small bag in the floor of the buggy and turned sharply at her approach.

“I want to thank you, Jonas.” Her words came fast, not giving the older man time to speak. “It was kind of you to allow us to stay here with your family. I—”

“You don't have to say anything, Rachel.”

“Yes, I do. And I will.” She understood why Jonas didn't want to speak of these things, but she believed in facing things the way they were, not hiding them. “If you don't mind.”

Jonas blinked at her firm statement, and his jaw went slack momentarily.

“I hope we did not place you and Sally and Samuel in any kind of danger. I do not know how this will turn out, but the good Lord is in control. Is He not?” It was a direct challenge to Jonas.

“Yes, of course.”

“Then that is all we need to know.”

Rachel faced Sally and held out her hands to the older woman. Sally clasped hands with her, and tears glimmered in her eyes. Rachel's throat closed. Sally didn't understand what had happened in Pennsylvania with her son Jacob, and she didn't understand what was about to happen here. She might never know the truth, but Rachel hoped to spare the woman who had been a friend to her for the past couple of weeks.

Suddenly, the older woman embraced Rachel and held her as close as she could around Rachel's belly. Rachel held onto the woman, wishing she could hug her own mother again.

“The Lord be with you,” Sally said.

“And with you,” Rachel whispered.

Jonas cleared his throat. He stood by the buggy, waiting on his wife.

Sally looked over her shoulder at him, nodded, and turned back to Rachel for one last word. “I will be back.”

Roc came around the buggy as Jonas climbed inside and took the reins. He stood beside Rachel while they watched the Fishers leave. An assortment of emotions—fear, sadness, and relief—welled up inside her as she watched the buggy disappear down the drive. It was good that the older couple was safe. This was not their battle.

She reached over and took Roc's hand. She would fight this one with him. And if she died, then she would die because of her past sins. But she prayed her baby and Roc would live.

She squeezed his hand and looked up at him. He seemed distracted as he stared down the drive, his brows knit together with deep creases.

“What's the matter?” she asked.

“Samuel.” Roc took a couple of steps toward the road and stopped. “He should have been back by now.”

“Maybe Roberto's bus was late.”

“Maybe.” He squeezed her hand back reassuringly and turned to face her. “Go back in the house, Rachel. And gather your things.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want you to leave too.”

Her spine stiffened. “And go where?”

“Somewhere safe.”

“Akiva would know.”

“Would he?”

She nodded. “I heard the whispering this morning.”

Roc glanced behind her as he reached inside his coat for his weapon, but he didn't pull it out. He simply kept a hand on it. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“It sounded like an insect buzzing inside my ear. Then it stopped, and I thought I could have imagined it. And I haven't heard it since.”

He made a circle around her, walking first forward then backward, his gaze searching the house, workshop, and fields. “That's all the more reason for you to go.”

“And how do you propose I get there?”

“When Samuel returns, you can go with him.”

“I'm not going anywhere.” She grabbed his arm. “If I did, Akiva would only follow.”

Roc frowned, and she could see he believed she was right. “I'm going to walk around the house. If you hear the whispers again, call to me. If you see anything—”

“I will.” She walked up the steps again and stopped. Her breath caught for a moment as something gripped her belly hard. The pain twisted into her back, and she leaned forward, holding onto the banister, the wood biting into her hand. When it finally released, she realized she was panting.

Roc bounded up the steps and peered into her face. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing. I'm fine.” She tried to offer him a smile but feared she didn't succeed in reassuring him. Or herself. Worse, she feared what this actually meant. The dull ache had been easier to ignore. This pain, however, escalated, and panic shot through her. Suddenly she wished Sally were there, so she could ask the older woman's advice.

“You are not fine.” Dread registered in Roc's eyes. “Was that a—?”

“Pregnant women have all sorts of weird pains.”

“Pain? What kind of pain?”

She took the last step, but Roc stopped her with a hand on her arm. “It's nothing, Roc.”

“Rachel,” he said, his voice calmer than her heartbeat, “I'm a cop…or was…and I've seen women in labor. I've seen the look. And you've got it.”

She scoffed. “Roc, really.”

He quirked a brow, and suddenly her stomach grew hard again, a band tightening around her belly. When it released, she was holding Roc's hand, and he was saying, “Breathe.”

But she couldn't for the fear swelling inside her, taking hold of her. Because her baby was coming. And there was no one to help. Sally had left. The buggy was gone. All she had was Roc and the fear that Akiva would soon arrive.

Don't panic.

But he was. This was bad. Bad timing. Bad everything.

Roc led Rachel into the house. “Do you want to lie down?”

“No.” She clung to his hand. “I feel better when I can walk around.”

He read panic in her eyes, the same compressing his chest. “Okay. Then go about what you feel like doing, but rest. Tell me every time a pain comes.” He checked his watch and went to the window, verifying it was locked. Not that a lock would keep out a vampire, but it was a start. And it gave him something to do besides panic.

He stared down the empty drive.
Where
was
Samuel?
If Samuel arrived soon, he could at least go get help.
But
who
could
come? An Amish woman who was accustomed to delivering babies at home? Would he put that woman's life in jeopardy? What about an ambulance?
More lives at stake.
Which
was
worse? Would he risk Rachel's and her baby's?

“Roc?” Rachel spoke in a strangled voice. She stood at an odd angle, slightly bent forward. Her facial muscles tensed as she stared at the floor.

He rushed to her side, took her hand again, which she squeezed hard. He whispered, “It's going to be all right. Hang on to me.”

“But what about me?”

The strange voice came from his right, near the back door. A deep and otherworldly voice Roc instantly recognized.

Roc grabbed for his Glock and lunged, at the same time whipping the muzzle around and aiming at the dark figure. He squeezed the trigger as he hit the floor and kept firing. But the shadowy form folded in on itself and disappeared.

A slight breeze ruffled through the open back door. Roc rolled sideways and came to his feet in one bounding motion. “Rachel, are you—?”

He stopped abruptly at the sight of her. She stood, still slightly bent forward, but this time it was more of a defensive stance. She held Roc's stake in her hand, the tip pointed away from her. The look on her face was as fierce as any soldier, the way he imagined Joan of Arc met her enemies in battle.

“He's here.” She spoke softly, as if Akiva might hear.

“Ya think?” Roc glanced back at the doorway, where his bullets had chewed the framing. “But where'd he go?”

“I don't know.”

Glancing upward, searching the ceiling, he couldn't see any signs of the vampire. “If he wants to kill himself by using your baby, then why doesn't he just let me kill him now and be done with it?”

“He wants to exact as much revenge as he can.” Rachel straightened and then released a held breath. “I need to sit down.”

He nodded and walked toward the back door. But footsteps, heavy and running, made him aim for the opening. Roc held his breath. He wouldn't miss again. Not this time. The footsteps sounded louder as they raced toward the house. Roc braced a hand under his forearm to steady his gun.

Suddenly a reddened face appeared and then jerked out of sight again.

“Roc, hold your fire!”

Roc pointed the muzzle upward and released the trigger.

A few seconds later, a panting Roberto peeked around the door. He held a stake, raised for battle, and then a smile broke over his face. “Roc! Good to see you on guard.”

“Next time,” Roc said, breathing heavily, “give a shout out earlier.”

“Then how would I launch a sneak attack?” Roberto lowered the stake. “What happened? I heard gunshots before.”

Roc glanced over at Rachel to make sure she was all right. “Where's Samuel?”

“Not sure.” The older man stepped through the doorway. “He was really late picking me up, but eventually did. But he didn't say much the whole way. And as soon as we got here, we heard the gunshots, and he took off. Scared him maybe.”

“For the best then. Akiva's here. And Rachel's in labor.”

Roberto shifted his gaze toward Rachel and gave her a nod. “At least we outnumber the vampire. Trust me, that's the only way you want to go into battle against one.”

This was not how Rachel envisioned having her baby. She would have preferred her mamm in attendance, and fewer men around.

When the pains came, she clenched her teeth, stared at one point as hard as she could, and tried to breathe. Sometimes she squeezed a pillow, sometimes the arm of a chair, and when Roc was nearby, his hand.

Roberto kept vigil in a chair, much like the sturdy one Rachel sat in. His gaze traced the boundaries of the room, lingering at the windows, and he kept his hand wrapped around the hilt of a stake. Forming the last point of a triangle was Roc. Even though he sat in a recliner, he was tense and leaning forward, with his weapons at the ready.

How long, she wondered, could this go on? Soon, she would need more attention. Soon, the baby would come. She spent the time between pains praying the good Lord would have mercy upon them.

“Roc,” she said, and he jerked to attention. “I'm worried about Samuel.”

“Me too.”

“Where could he be?”

“Maybe he went on to join his folks.”

“What if he didn't? What if he's in the barn? And what if Akiva is—?”

“Rachel.” Roc's tone was firm.

“Shouldn't you go to the barn and make sure?”

“No,” Roberto said, “he should not.”

The elderly man's tone startled Rachel. “But Samuel—”

“He could be dead.” Roberto flung an arm wide. “There, I said what you've all been thinking. And if he is, then Roc wouldn't be much use to him other than to get himself killed the way—” Abruptly, the priest stopped. His eyes blazed with a fiery blue, and his cheeks flushed.

Roc shifted slightly. “He means the way Ferris died.”

“Ferris?” she asked. “Who is Ferris?”

“My son,” Roberto said, his voice soft once again.

“Your—?” Roc looked stunned. He shook his head as if he was trying to make sense of it. “I didn't know.”

“Neither did Ferris.” Roberto rubbed his palms against the tops of his thighs. After several minutes, he spoke again. “I was not always a priest, Roc. I fought vehemently against this evil, and at the same time, I loved deeply. Her name was Talia. She was beautiful. You understand, of course, the way a woman can touch a man's heart like nothing else.” His gaze slid toward Rachel, and heat stung her cheeks. “But,” he continued, “I could not stay and live a normal life with her. I had to protect her. You understand?”

Roberto touched the pads of his thumbs against each other, his long fingers folding together. “I told her God had a calling on my life. She believed I was to be a priest. She did not tell me she carried my child. I went off to fight my battles, spiritual and otherwise, battles she could not know of or understand. And when Ferris came to me a few months ago, he knew only that his mother had sent him to me, along with a sealed letter she told him only I could open. When I did, I read that her dying wish had been for her son to work alongside his father.”

“I'm sorry, Roberto.” Roc drove his fingers through his hair. “If I'd only known—”

“How could you know when Ferris did not even know?” The priest bowed his head, and his features sagged beneath the weight of despair. “He is with his mother now. He is safe once again.” He turned his gaze toward Rachel then. “I am not a callous man. I know the pain of loss. It is not my intent for anyone else to die. But it would be foolhardy for Roc to leave you to help Samuel, who may no longer need our help.”

Her throat was tight with raw emotions.

“That's the bottom line, Rachel,” Roc said. “I'm not leaving you.”

A creak upstairs ended the argument and forced her gaze toward the ceiling.

Roc stood slowly, took a step toward the stairs, but stopped. He looked over at Roberto.

“Could be a trick,” the older man said.

“Could be nothing,” Roc said. “It's an old house—”

Another creak interrupted him. In a slow blink of an eye, Roc gave a nod toward Roberto and then catapulted himself up the stairs.

Roberto stayed to protect Rachel. Fear gripped her. From upstairs she heard a huge banging, followed by a series of doors slamming open, along with the thud of footsteps down the upstairs hallway. Roberto crept to a standing position and moved slowly toward Rachel. She clenched the wooden armrests on the chair, her fingers curling over the edges.

Then something caught her gaze at the big window. A shadow. A movement. A blur. Two black eyes stared back at her. Then he was gone.

And Rachel screamed.