Redemption (7 page)

Her silence was deafening and the wheels in Ian’s head started to turn. Everything slowed and came into focus. The way her eyes changed color with her mood. Her aversion to the sun. Her reluctance to eat anything he offered her. Now, he’d realized she was much older than she said she was. He wiped his hand down his face, bringing his thumb across his chin.

“I didn’t think people like that even existed.”

“I think it’s been easier for me to believe because I always knew things like Lily were out there.”

“Things? You mean vampires. I can’t even believe those words are coming out of my mouth.”

“You heard her. She wanted to tell you,” Becca implored.

“Tell me?”

“I told you that you might not want to go on looking after this.”

He paused in deep thought, exhaling and inhaling as he carefully constructed his words.

“She raised you? A human. Isn’t that some sort of oxymoron?”

“She doesn’t feed on humans, only animals. That is the way she has always lived by.”

Becca couldn’t read Ian’s emotions as his face blankly stared at the wall behind her.

“I can go.” She got up to leave when he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down to her chair.

“I’m still going after her. She can’t get rid of me just because she’s a vampire. I’m not letting her take the easy way out,” Ian replied adamantly, as he finished his glass of wine and poured himself another. “She still loves me.”

“Do you really know what you’re getting into?”

“No, but you’re going to tell me…everything you can.”

Becca was hesitant at first, as she knew there was only so much she could tell him.

“She protected as much of her dark side as she could from me. She was an amazing mother, believe it or not. She’s not the average vampire stereotype.”

“So, you’ve met a lot of vampires?”

“Vampires, no. Thousands of other…beings you probably never thought existed either, but only two other vampires.”

“Then, she’s practically alone.” The statement made him sad, sorry that she felt she couldn’t let him in on the eternal burden she carried.

“She had another with her for many years. He was her sire, the man who turned her. All I really know about Martin is that he was killed about forty years ago.”

“He was her…partner?”

“No, more like a father. He was in his forties when he was turned.”

Ian was afraid of what he wanted to know next, but the jealousy was raging inside of him. He needed to know if he was competing with a memory.

“I need you to tell me about Ryan.”

Becca swallowed hard, her throat dry and sore. She pulled the wine to her lips, pausing to stall as long as she could, letting the sweetness trail down the back of her throat. When his eyes met hers, she knew she couldn’t hold out any longer.

“Lily moved from Boston to London after her parents died. She inherited their entire estate, which from what I hear, was quite vast. She sold almost everything off and went to stay with a friend of her father’s and his family. Ryan was their eldest son, only a few months older than Lily. She and Ryan shared a special connection. His family became her new family and as a result, she was instantly seen as a daughter and Ryan’s slightly younger sister by all of society. This caused a huge problem for their love affair.”

“For years, his parents pushed suitors on the both of them. It had been almost seven years and they were still meeting in the garden or stables in the middle of the night. When Ryan’s father demanded that he find a wife or he would find one for him, he professed his love for Lily. His parents rejoiced at the news – an unexpected turn of events – and she joined their family as Ryan’s wife only two months later.”

“His wife... All of these years, she had been faithful to him. Then I came along.” A surge of uncontrollable guilt ran through him. He was her husband. Even though he was sure Ryan was dead and buried, Lily had broken a vow by being with him.

“How long were they married? Did they have any children of their own?”

“They only had three days. She was turned the second day of what was supposed to be their honeymoon.”

Becca explained how Lily had fallen off the train and how Martin found her barely alive. Ian was silent and Becca feared for the thoughts flooding his mind.

Ian had no words. He felt awful and wonderful all at the same time. Awful for making her break a vow that she had obviously kept so close to her for decades, and wonderful for making him the one she would give it all up for.

“Did they ever find each other again?”

“She never said. I think it was all too painful for her. Even though she can’t cry and doesn’t seem to sleep much, some nights I swear she cried herself into unconsciousness,” Becca sighed sadly.

“You took care of her as much as she took care of you, then?”

“I tried.”

“What was it like, being raised by a vampire?” Ian asked, truly curious.

“Not as bad as you’d think. After mom died, we left Boston. If anyone asked, she was my older sister. We traveled, a lot, but we were never lonely. There was always someone we knew wherever we went. Rome, Paris, Prague, Tokyo, Beijing, New York, Green Bay…”

“Green Bay?”

“Lily loves the cold, plus she’s a huge Packers fan. She was actually at the first Super Bowl,” Becca laughed.

“When I decided to go into the FBI, she kept close. When I got assigned to Portland, she settled in nicely.”

“I take it she’s not really an investment banker then?”

“Not really. She’s amazing with money, stocks and bonds, the whole thing, but she does something a little different for Manchester. She is one of those who uses her powers for good instead of evil.”

“Powers?” His eyebrow raised above his sparkling blue iris. “What kind of powers?”

“You can’t tell me that you have never felt them.”

“With Lily, I’ve felt many things. I’m afraid you’ll have to be a little more specific.”

“There are the little things. Her strength, her speed, the keen sense of smell, and of course her amazingly unbelievable beauty.”

“That, I noticed.” He smiled with another sip.

“That’s really all I’m able to tell you.”

“Is it classified or something?”

“I’d guess you’d say that. Manchester has a very strict confidentiality policy,” Becca stated, carefully edging around the topic.

“You don’t work for them though, do you?”

“I used to. I had to get clearance to even tell you this much.”

“So, she’s some sort of superhero then and Manchester is her headquarters?” Ian asked, slightly disbelieving.

“That’s about the size of it.”

“Who’s at the top, or is that classified too?”

“In Boston, it is Mr. Fleming. I got my clearance from him. I’ve explained everything to him and he’s put the group at our disposal. They seem to want her back as much as I do, if not more. We have a meeting with him tomorrow.”

“We, as in you and I?”

“You said you wanted in. You’re not punking out on me now, are you?” Becca questioned, a small smile gracing her lips.

“Not a chance. You’re stuck with me.”

They went on for hours. The life she had led with Lily had him transfixed. Memories came pouring out of her, spilling effortlessly as the wine stroked the back of their throats. He was eager to know as much as he could about both of them.

Extremely light headed after they’d finished two bottles of wine, Ian went ahead and opened a third anyway. Becca fought to keep herself alert as she spoke even more softly with the occasional girly giggle. She learned exactly why Lily was so intoxicated by him and she felt more of that kind of pull herself.

In the middle of their conversation, they settled on the couch. They must have eventually passed out, as when she regained consciousness somewhere around four in the morning, Ian was cradling her in his arms. She hadn’t felt so at ease with anyone so quickly in her lifetime. The warmth emanating from him was the ultimate comfort. She feared to move but she felt her fingers numb in their current state. She nuzzled at his chest and rested her hand there. Her movement stirred him, but he wrapped his arms tighter and pulled her even closer, and a few short moments later, she was lulled back into unconsciousness.

After a trip home to shower and gather some more of her things in the early hours of the morning, Lily made her way back to Renee’s. She wanted everything to be as perfect as it could be, as she was keenly aware that this day was going to be one of the most difficult days of Renee’s life. She needed all of her energy focused on helping in whichever way she could.

A sign on the front door of the bar read, ‘Closed until further notice’. Simple, without going into too much detail. The whole town already knew about the events of the previous day.

When she walked into the kitchen, it hit her like a tidal wave; the man. In all of her shock and disbelief, she really hadn’t thought a thing about him. She smelled the air to see if she might be able to catch his lingering scent and the word that drifted into her mind to describe what filled her was Patchouli. An earthy, slightly musky scent she was all too familiar with.

She recalled how warm and soft the tip of his finger had been when he swept it across her chilled cheek. He must have known her, as she clearly remembered him saying her name. Then he was gone. She searched her mind for a possible answer, but didn’t want to give into the possibility.

Peter, that was her answer. He must have been sent by Peter. Peter had helped her so many times deal with the most difficult of beings. He had been by her side the day Anne died and had promised to protect Anne’s soul, carrying it to where it belonged, at peace.

She thought if vampires could have guardian angels, Peter was surely hers. Peter always had hope for Lily. He promised he would be there with her when it was her time to carry her soul to rest, but not until she finished what God had planned for her.

She couldn’t ever really believe that God would send one of his angels to protect and watch over a vampire, but that is exactly what Peter did. He would show up when she needed him, and sometimes, even when she didn’t. He was like the brother she never had. It gave her hope that one day, she might be able to experience a peace that God intended for her.

It was then she realized, the man had been an angel of death; there to help Erik to his place of eternal peace.

The weight lifted from Ryan’s chest with every snow crushing step. Only mere feet from her door, he felt like his feet were no longer hitting the ground. He knew she wasn’t there, but he was about to re-enter her world, finally.

With the sweep of his hand, the door clicked open. Her house was set miles away from any semblance of civilization. No one would ever know he was there, except her.

He stepped in, taking in the sight of the open area - living room, dining room, kitchen all laid out in front of him. Then the scent hit him – sweet red currant. It almost knocked him completely off his feet. He followed the scent to its source and found a candle that had recently been extinguished set on the stove.

“She must have been here this morning.”
Just the thought of her standing in the spot he currently occupied, blowing out the flame, sent a warm chill throughout his body.

As he snooped through her kitchen cabinets, he wondered just how much she might have missed food. Some of his fondest memories were of their time in the family kitchen. Helping Emily, their cook, with meals was just another excuse to spend time together. It didn’t take Emily long to realize why they were there, as Ryan was a terrible cook. He never minded peeling the potatoes though, just to have Lily within reach. Emily became their Friar Tuck, so to speak. She’d often leave the most succulent concoctions waiting for them to enjoy during their late night rendezvous. He would never forget the taste of Emily’s delectable apple pie on Lily’s lips.

With only coffee mugs and wine glasses filling one cabinet, the others were filled with candles of every shape, size, and scent. Each fragrance held a powerful memory.

The Irish Cream, a recollection of his father’s favorite after dinner treat, slipped shamelessly into his coffee. Roasted chestnuts for the time they tried to do it themselves in the formal fireplace with quite disastrous results. Rosewood for the tree that stood just outside her bedroom window. She had told him that Patchouli had always reminded her of him, the way he smelled after a long ride. Tucked in the back, a row of apple pie candles beckoned to be burned.

He placed one on the counter and lit the wick, and the aroma almost brought tears to his eyes. After all the time that had passed, he’d realized that she had never forgotten him. Every scent was a memory they had shared. He took solace in the thought that she kept them near to keep those memories alive.

He half expected some sort of blood waiting behind the refrigerator door, but instead he found dozens of bottles of red wine. Six of a Bordeaux Merlot, seven of a distinctly labeled Pinot Noir and eleven bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon. She had always loved the rich taste of the currants in each Cabernet they had tried. A new attribute he would add to the list of things he loved about his wife – an amazing wine connoisseur.

He noticed one had already been opened and didn’t waste any time in finding a glass to pour it into. The glass went to his lips, taking in its bouquet. He let the rich sweetness pass his tongue, delicately dancing past his palate.

He held the glass between his fingers as he made his way over to her living room. He could picture her there, curled up with her favorite book on the enormous leather pillow, which he could only assume was her couch.

A flat screen TV with every amenity attached to it, was neatly packed into the cabinet beside the fireplace. A few games, several action movies, and a few more that showed the true romantic side of her, were scattered sporadically on a table beside the cabinet.

He brushed his fingers across the spines of the books compiled on the mantle. He pulled out a black, leather bound book wedged between two others. The date had him eager to find what may lie in its pages. He sunk deep into the couch as he opened the book to the first page. Her journal, he realized.

At first, he laughed at the picture of the girl called “Cinnamon”. He remembered what a passion she had for dancing, but never thought of her dancing like that for him.

By the words set on the pages, she had enjoyed Las Vegas. She loved the freedom in the night, able to roam without being noticed in the crowds. She complained about having to hunt so far away from town to find anything better than an iguana, but she seemed happy all the same.

Almost twenty pages were filled with intricate details of her car, the McLaren SLR. From her description, it was one of the possessions she cherished most in this world. A guilty pleasure in which only she could enjoy the spoils.

He flipped further into its pages to find a picture of Lily, in the arms of another man. He froze when the caption below read “My Ian”.

Realistically, he knew that over a hundred years had separated them and he had no right to deny her any happiness. It was inevitable that she would find love and comfort in the arms of another, and as he read on, he found that’s exactly what she had found with Ian Holt. He
should
have been happy that she had found someone to love her the way she deserved, instead of being alone for over a century.

But undeniable relief surged through his system when he saw the words “He’ll never be my Ryan, no matter how desperately I want him to be,” and he immediately felt guilty.

An entry in October had him grasping at his chest; Ian had asked Lily to be his wife. But in the last entry, she explained why she thought it could never be.

He slammed the book shut in anger.

“Peter, I should’ve known.”

After their meeting in the coffee shop, he knew there was so much more he wasn’t telling him.

He tucked the journal back in its place on the mantle, as everything needed to be kept in its place. He knew his scent would linger, but he didn’t want to scare her by having anything disrupted.

He made his way to what he thought was her bedroom, but as he opened the door, he found it was so much more. Not just simply a bed, nightstand, and dresser, it was
her.
He grabbed her pillow, taking in her scent. Slightly fruity, surely her fragrant shampoo.

On her dresser was a jewelry box. Curious, he looked inside to find a diamond pendant, several pairs of jeweled earrings, and a locket. He opened the locket to find a picture of Lily and a little auburn haired girl. The tiny inscription on the back read “World’s most unconventional mom. Love, Becca.”

Lily, a mother? That couldn’t be right. This sent him snooping further, pulling the trays out of the box to find a small black box tucked in the corner.

He opened the box to reveal a delicate gold wedding band. He had never suspected after so many years, she would still have the ring he gave her that day. His had been lost, he was sure, or handed down to another relative. This gave him an idea.

He went back to the kitchen with the ring securely on his pinky. He found a piece of paper and a pen and wrote a simple note. He placed the note with her wedding ring beside the candle he had just blown out before leaving the house with a smile.