Secrets of the Guardian (Waldgrave Book 3) (23 page)

Another bus ticket to somewhere warm would cost her at least two hundred dollars, and even with all the donations on the bus, she only had just over four hundred. It would take her at least another month to find someone willing to pay her under the table for any kind of work, she had no idea where any of the local homeless shelters were, and what she had left in the way of money wasn’t enough to keep Brandon fed, warm, and safe in the meantime. She needed money in the most desperate way possible; her little Brandon…her son…would die, or be taken away, if she didn’t do something.

She needed a sponsor like her father had had—even one money order was enough. She would find a way to make it last if it was enough. Then maybe she could find a place to work until…Until when? Until she got caught again?

It wasn’t enough. She looked down at Brandon, still sleeping in her arms, his little nose turning pink because of the cold, and she knew she couldn’t keep him. Tom was right; he deserved better. He deserved a family. He deserved someone who could take care of him.

She couldn’t go back to the Silenti world, but she knew Brandon had to. It might be terrible there, but his chances weren’t good staying with her. Lena had burned too many bridges in the Silenti world, and she would never be able to make a quiet return; however, if she could contact the right person, Brandon could have a fresh start. She had to get in touch with someone who could place him with a family that would take care of him, or someone who had enough money to take care of him. Howard was probably out of the question; they were expecting her to contact him. Griffin was probably being watched, too, but he at least might have the money and the connections to send someone to collect Brandon from her. 

She walked over to the man at the ticket counter, who directed her to a nearby church that was taking in the homeless until the snow stopped. She slept on a wooden pew in the church that night with Brandon laying on her chest for warmth, and then tried to figure out where to go the next day. She talked someone into letting her briefly use the church’s internet service “to find her grandmother’s address” the next morning, and found a cheap campground located out in the mountains that she might be able to afford.

She bought five dollars’ worth of saltine crackers for herself and forty dollars’ worth of formula for Brandon at a corner convenience store. She called a taxi, bribed the driver with a fifty dollar tip to get him to drive her all the way out to the middle of nowhere, and found the office of the cabin campgrounds. After bargaining with the owner for fifteen minutes, she gave up two hundred and fifty dollars to spend a week in one of the smaller cabins farther out in the woods; it had a phone, plumbing, heat, and one room plus the bathroom. Before the owner drove her out to the site, she paid him an additional five dollars to use his computer. She composed a brief email to Kelsey, praying to God that she would know what to do with it:

Tell the brat:

Wednesday 6pm Eastern.

She wrote the campgrounds address and her cabin number at the end. Warren Astley had contact with someone; she only prayed whoever it was would be willing to do a favor and deliver the message to Griffin, or at least someone who knew him. It was a long shot. She had less than twenty dollars to her name now; if this didn’t work, it was the end of the line.

She would take Brandon to a hospital and surrender him. She didn’t know what would happen to her at that point; she didn’t know how she would live with herself. She didn’t know how she would live without Brandon. He deserved so much more than a human upbringing, but his life would likely be cut short if he had to go back to the Silenti in unfavorable conditions. She was determined that they would only go back with Griffin's blessing and protection; she was also determined that if Brandon could not go back, he needed to go to a family that could provide for him.  And now, she didn't have the money or the will to risk taking him back to South Carolina, and tracking her enemies onto Olesia's doormat.  

She would have to give him up; he would go on with another family somewhere, hidden and safe from the Silenti. Lena would do what she could until the money was gone, and she couldn't run any longer. She would end it before they took her alive. She didn't want to think about that part until Brandon was gone, so she put her morbid thoughts aside.

It was two days until Wednesday. After the owner had dropped them off, and the sound of his loud jeep motor was fading off back into the frozen, wooded surroundings, she lamented the quiet around her. She didn’t know what she was going to do until Griffin came.

If he came.

She settled Brandon onto a down pillow that wrapped around his sides for warmth in the middle of the one queen-sized bed. He was awake, but she gave him a pacifier and he seemed more than pleased to just stare around at the new surroundings for a while. Lena sat down at a desk that faced the one window in the cabin. She went through the drawers on the desk and found a small notepad that someone had left behind at some point and a blue pen. She stared at the blank page for some time before putting both items down and going to the bathroom. She took a shower, and then came back out to try again wrapped in a towel.

She took the pen and pad of paper back to the bed and laid down next to Brandon. She didn’t want to be taken alive. If she had to give Brandon up, she didn’t want to undergo interrogation as to where he was. She squeezed his cheeks and he gave off a small, laughing squeal.

Lena smiled, and then she was ready to start.

This is the last will and testament of Abilene Collins,
 she wrote. 
The child previously rumored to be mine, while in existence, is not mine. As promised, I am not now nor have I ever been pregnant. The child has been surrendered to a human family. It is my only wish after my death that he be left out of all of this. I have only ever wanted peace in my life and the lives of others. Howard, please forgive me. Griffin…

But what did she want to say to Griffin, if he never came to find her? If she never saw him again, what did she want to say to him now?

Griffin, it was all true. I am who he said I was, even if he was not. As faithless as I am, you know I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t have proof. Take care of it. I hope you missed me. I missed you.

*****

The next day, Tuesday, she wrote a brief note about Brandon stating his birthday and that he didn’t have any known allergies or ailments, just in case if she had to surrender him. She spent the rest of the day just being with him, tickling his tummy, kissing his cheeks, and using water to style the little tuft of hair on his head into Mohawks and spirals. As was always the case, she tucked him in next to her before they fell asleep.

Wednesday, the snow started falling again in slow, large flakes. She wasn’t sure exactly when dawn came around, because the light just seemed to fade on. On a whim, she wrapped Brandon up and took him outside for five minutes just to watch it snow.

See Brandon? Pretty…

Pretty…
 He echoed.

He stared around, looking at the trees, the white sky, the deep snow, until one large snow flake landed on his cheek, and he brought one hand up and tried in an uncoordinated way to wipe it away.

Cold…

They went back inside and took a nap snuggled up together before lunch. Brandon had his usual bottle; as Lena munched on her crackers, she had to wonder how much weight she had lost since January. She didn’t have her original clothes anymore, having long since traded them out for warmer, more practical fair at the church in Florida, so she couldn’t even judge the looseness of her waistband.

Wiping some cracker bits from her hands, she went to the bathroom mirror and undressed to her underwear; despite her solitude, it was one of the only moments of safe privacy she had experienced since she started running. She cringed at the sallow shadows under her eyes and the sunken flesh around her ribs and where the curve of her stomach had once been.  She buried the unpleasant images in her mind, redressed, and went back out to Brandon.  He was the only one that mattered, and he was pudgy and rosy-cheeked.  

The day trailed by slowly, but as it went, there was an indefinable lifting in Lena’s spirit. At first, she thought it was just that she had actually taken the time to be with Brandon, but as night drew near, she realized it was more. She felt strong, and safe.

And somehow, she felt slightly annoyed. It had to be Griffin.

He knew, and he was coming for her. She could feel him growing closer to them by the hour, and as her spirits lifted, she started to reevaluate her situation and her frame of mind. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe someday soon she would be walking back up to Waldgrave, showing Howard and Rosaleen her new baby; maybe that day wouldn’t come for years, but if it ever came, it would make her so happy.

As five thirty rolled around, she found herself sitting by the door, waiting for the sound of a car to come rolling up to the front of the cabin. As the minutes ticked past, she found it hard to rip her eyes away from the window. What would he say to her when she told him?

Griffin had been absolutely crushed when they had found out about her grandfather; his real name was Jack Durand, and he was a human-born. What was she going to tell him about Olesia and Tom? She wondered briefly if she should tell him at all; with all of his exuberance on the topic, he would probably want to go out and meet Olesia himself, if only to collect her small piece of the family story. Lena supposed she was going to have to say something about them to explain Brandon. But then her thoughts became darker. What was she going to tell him about how she had been living over the past few months? She hardly wanted to think about it at all herself.

Six o’clock was only five minutes away now. She went and got Brandon from the bed and started pacing back and forth in front of the window. The snow outside was still lightly falling.

Six o’clock came and went. Five after. Ten after. Fifteen after.

Lena settled Brandon back onto the bed on the other side of the room. She felt worried; but surely, he had to be coming? What was she feeling if he wasn’t?

Twenty minutes, come and gone. Twenty-five. Thirty.

Very suddenly, Lena felt sick. He wasn’t one to be late. He wasn’t coming. She turned around to get Brandon; she wanted to spend all the time she had left with him.

Tomorrow, she would leave him at the first hospital she found.

But then there was a noise—a crunching. A stepping! Someone was coming up the front steps! Lena spun around and went back to the door and looked out the window.

Her heart leapt for joy as she threw the door open, smiling from ear to ear. He was completely wrapped from head to foot, only his eyes barely visible between the hood of his jacket and the scarf wrapped around his face.

“Griffin!” She practically shouted, unable to contain herself. It was over; it was finally over. She lunged in and hugged him, but he seemed more interested in Brandon, still lying on the bed, so she let him go. He wandered over to the bed and stared down at the small child.

“God, Griffin, I don’t think I’ve ever been happier to see you! I felt you coming—it was the strangest thing. I mean, we’ll talk about that later. Right now, you probably just want to know about…Griffin?”

He was still just standing there, staring at Brandon. He reached down and picked him up roughly, and Lena lunged forward. “Jesus, Griffin! You’ve got to be careful with him! He’s just—What the hell are you doing?!”

He turned around, Brandon held against his side with one hand. In his other hand, there was a small handgun, held awkwardly because of the gloves he was wearing, pointing directly at Lena.
 She hesitated, and backed up a few steps.

There was a loud pop and Lena jumped. Her eyes were still locked on Brandon, but somehow she felt like she was watching the blood pour out of her lower abdomen. She felt frozen in place, standing across the room, watching herself bleed to death. What transpired over the next few seconds felt like it took ages to execute. Rollin set the gun on the bed, took his scarf off, and used his teeth to remove the glove on the hand that wasn’t holding Brandon—who, by this time, was screaming. Lena had never seen his eyes focus so easily, and so intently, as when they met with hers in that moment.