John escorted me down the staircase, and led me down the west hall when we reached the main floor. He stopped in front of a nondescript utility door and removed a brass key from his jacket pocket. Unlocking the door, he held it open for me, but I hesitated.
A surge of cool air pulsed over me. A long staircase descended down into what must be the basement, although the forever winding stairs led down much farther than your everyday basement. It was dark, except for what looked to be the flickering of candles far below. Even with my inhuman vision, I didn’t want to step into the menacing darkness.
John tapped his foot impatiently, and the tone in his voice matched. “They’re waiting.”
I took my first step down, the cool air intensifying as I entered the darkness, and then another. The door slammed shut and John was behind me, one step higher.
“Can you see alright?” he asked.
The darkness would have been Mortally blinding, but I could see everything around us with my Immortal eyes. From the dark stone stairs winding down as if into the depths of the world, to his hand that laid uninvited on the side of my arm. I could hear faint whispers of what were most likely spoken in normal voices below us, but the most frightening thing around me was what I sensed: a heavy cloud of evil combined with a fog of destiny. I shuddered with more force than necessary, hoping to shake his hand free of my arm.
It worked.
“We haven’t got all day . . . and William and Patrick are waiting for you,” John said, when my feet wouldn’t move from the second step.
That was all I needed reminded of. William (forget the Patrick part) was waiting for me. The sooner I got this whole ordeal over with, the sooner we’d be together; putting dozens of miles between us and this place. I took the next step of many more to come, each one putting me deeper into this dark world that seemed to call me with an air of expectancy.
One hundred-and-seventy-seven steps later, I set my foot down on the stone floor of our destination. My mouth gaped as I took a good look around the cavernous room we’d entered, and it was just that—a cave. The walls were rough, and in the streams of candlelight, resembled crooked fingers tempting one towards them. The uneven ceiling must have reached nearly one hundred feet in places. This place was dark, dank, and vile . . . it looked, smelled, and felt all these things. I was aware of the trembling my body was trying to release, but my mind kept these signs of distress trapped safely within me; not daring to show my dread.
I was aware of the long, rectangular table set before us, behind which sat seven chairs containing six men, but I couldn’t focus on this image, because I was drawn to what was behind them.
In the center of the room, where the cragged ceiling was at its highest point, laid a waist-high, solid stone platform which gleamed in its onyx splendor. It was set upon a pillar of stairs leading up from all four directions.
There was one bright ray of light in this entire mass of a room, and it was the bright beam that shown down upon the platform. I had a strong feeling then that I’d seen this all before . . . I’d seen myself in this room before. I couldn’t take my eyes from the table looming like the sword of an executioner in front of me. It was calling to me with siren-like persuasion, willing it be that our fates would one day intertwine.
When the next tremor of terror tore though me, it made a very physical appearance when I trembled like a lone leaf in the dead of winter.
“Gentlemen,” John’s voice rocketed through the room. I blinked, and this small mercy allowed me the escape I needed to remove my hypnotic stare from the platform. “May I introduce, Miss Bryn Dawson.”
My eyes came to rest on the six men in front of me. John’s Alliance’s Council, minus the one who was standing before them, introducing me.
“Bryn, may I introduce—”
These men before me well-suited the room we were in. Their dark eyes were filled with supremacy, and their faces were blank; actually, more stone cold as opposed to blank. A blank face would have been friendlier than the faces that stared back at me now.
“Julius, Lourdes, Ezra, Draco, Simon, and Lucius.” Each head nodded at me when John said their names. Such old, antiquated name; names I’d heard studying ancient histories and civilizations.
“The floor is yours, Gentlemen.” John bowed, and then swept around to the right side of the long table, seating himself in the last open chair beside Lucius.
My mouth ran dry, and the pungent smell of sulfur and must dizzied me.
“You can relax, Miss Dawson,” Draco’s voice dripped with as much authority as John’s. Given his seat at the center of the table, I assumed he was the Chancellor. “I assure you, we mean you no harm.” The flicker in his eyes did little to reassure me of this, but his voice was as pleasant as the sound of my car’s engine. He looked like the kind of man that could have played the lead in a Victorian-era movie, unmistakable good looks and an aura of refinement. “We wish to ask you several questions to help us get to know you a little better.”
I nodded my head and resisted the temptation to bite my lower lip. Though it had always been a welcome comfort in times of stress, I was determined I would not let these men perceive an ounce of the dread that sweltered in my body.
A small-framed, middle-aged looking man with bright red hair, and lips so thin they were virtually non-existent, spoke next; Julius. “How are you taking to the life of Immortality so far, Miss Dawson?”
There were so many possible responses to this: it’s great, or, it’s totally freaking me out, or, thanks for leaving everyone to believe I drowned, or, I’ve been reunited with the one I will spend the rest of forever with.
I settled for, “The transformation’s gone well so far. I’m learning new things about this life everyday.” The cragged walls threw my voice at varying angles around the room, making it sound stronger than it was.
“How do you like Townsend Manor?” Julius inquired, his uneven, trilling voice reminding me of the sound my bike would make when I used to put playing cards in the spokes.
Again, a myriad of responses were possible for this, but in holding to what I knew of John, and that these men reminded me of him . . . I kept my answers as concise and impersonal as I could. “I like it.”
Julius let the echo of my answer quiet before he addressed me again. “Have you found it difficult to cut off all ties to your Mortal life—to be dead to your family and friends?”
The answer to this question should have saddened me, but it didn’t. I’d rediscovered the last good thing remaining in my Mortal life, when I’d passed over into Immortality. “No, there’s little to miss.”
Draco opened up a thick manila folder set before him and thumbed through its contents. “We’ve seen that from your file . . .”
I could guess what the contents were within the folder he was gazing over as if looking for some recipe in a cookbook, not going through the events and sorrows of one’s life.
“Bryn Michelle Dawson, age nineteen,” Draco began, reading off the top sheet in the folder that was thicker than my Calculus textbook. “Born and raised in Santa Cruz, only child, valedictorian of your high school, accepted to several Ivy Leagues, enrolled in Stanford until transferring to OSU this past year, conference champ in tennis and the 200 meter, no criminal record—”
It was a strange feeling having my life story read off in the few breaths it took to read the solitary paragraph that held the nineteen years of my life.
“It appears you had a string of medical misfortunes,” Draco said, pulling me from my morose memories of my Mortality. He pulled several sheets out and read from them. “You’ve been in and out of hospitals since you were barely a toddler. Age four—admitted for second-degree burns on chest and stomach.” Draco looked up at me, expecting a response.
I played through my reply in my mind before I answered, willing it to sound even and unemotional. “That’s right. I burnt myself with a boiling pot of water when I was making dinner.”
“You were making dinner when y
ou were four?” Draco’s dubious tone was familiar—it was the same tone the nurses had used with me when I was admitted that night for my burns.
Like every other night of my childhood, Dad was working late, Mom was away on a business trip, my nanny Lucy was chatting on the phone with her boyfriend . . . and it was dinner time. Thankfully, the scars had healed, Mom gave her two week notice and became a stay-at-home-mom, and I stuck to microwave dinners after that.
“That’s right,” I answered, trying to sound as matter-of-fact as I had sixteen years ago in the hospital.
“Three years later”—Draco flipped to the next page—“admitted for smoke inhalation. More run-in’s making dinner?” He looked up at me, and I heard several muffled chuckles.
“Not, exactly,” I replied, having to work to make sure my eyes didn’t narrow. “Our neighbor’s house was on fire and her cat was still inside.” I shrugged. I’d saved Mrs. Maddox’s cat from being burned alive and only suffered a couple days in the hospital and a few scratches on my face—a small price to pay by my calculations, even though the cat died three weeks later of apparent “old age”.
“Cracked pelvis at the age of eleven.” Before Draco’s eyes had a chance to look up to me for my response, I broke into it, familiar with the pattern.
“My little cousin ran into the street at the same time a car came around the corner. They didn’t see him—it was dark—so I pushed him out of the way, and the car hit me instead.” Again, the outcomes of my best intentions never turned out as planned. Ethan suffered a concussion and had to get twenty-two stitches when his head slammed into the curb after I’d pushed him out of the way. In comparison, I’d practically gotten off easy—a run-in with a minivan and one cracked hip.
Draco’s expression changed, as if he was surprised by the stories behind the medical records. To someone who didn’t know the less than ideal outcomes from these events, I might have sounded like some do-gooder . . . but I wasn’t that. No matter what I’d done in my Mortal life, it felt like I never belonged. The world never seemed to want or welcome me. I was an alien in a foreign land. I hoped with all my Immortal strength this vex would not have crossed over into Immortality with me.
“And most recently, a hospitalization for a near-fatal bullet wound.” Draco was no longer reading off the white pages of my dark history, but looking hard into my eyes. “Although we’re aware of the events leading up to this, as well as the outcome.”
Despite being Immortal, my scars somehow managed to throb with pain.
“Your Mortal life was not good to you, was it?”
I was near tears, but I couldn’t let them fall. I couldn’t let these men be a part of my pain. “Not, exactly,” I whispered, breaking Draco’s stare.
Ezra burst in next; huge in stature, complemented by hands that looked like they could crush through steel. “After all these bleeding-heart stories of trying to save Mortals . . . or their pets,”—Ezra smiled at John; his teeth looking as if they would give steel a crunching as well—“are you sure she’s an Inheritor? She’s got the makings of a Guardian written all over her Mortal file.” He finished, tapping my folder with his first.
John, who’d remained silent throughout Draco’s inquisition, turned to me. “Why don’t we ask her? What are you Bryn?”
I answered immediately, the lie easy to speak when I knew the reason I told it—to keep him safe, “An Inheritor, of course.” The strength in my voice had returned since we were no longer discussing the painful pieces of my past.
“How do you know?” John pressed, licking his lips and leaning forward in his seat.
“Because it was an Inheritor that freed me from the Mortal life I never belonged in. I belong here,” I said with conviction, because it was true. I belonged wherever the one who’d saved me was, and if he departed to the molten core of the earth, I’d follow him there too.
“Very good, most introspective,” Draco complimented, before turning to John and exchanging a look that made me uncomfortable. If John was the would-be buyer in purchasing me, Draco was the seller. I definitely felt like I was standing on the auction block.
“Mr. Winters is your professor, isn’t that right?” Simon, similar is his appearance to John; tall, handsome, copper-brown hair, and while the color of his eyes was the same as John’s, they did not register the emotion that made me cringe whenever John’s fell upon me.
“That’s correct,” I replied, regulating my heartbeat so the increase couldn’t be detected when I talked about him.
Lucius broke in. “John tells us that Professor Winters and you spent some time together while you were still a Mortal and before he Immortalized you—”
“Immortalized her on his own,” Simon muttered under his breathe, sounding both furious and jealous.
Lucius continued, “Do you know why he would go to such extreme measures to save you?”
This was one of the questions I was dreading. Painful as it was, I could sit and respond to the pitiful pieces of my former life all day, but I didn’t want to talk about him. I didn’t trust that my physical or mental constraints could keep him protected. I took in a long breath of the unnecessary air, determined I would say or show nothing that would compromise him.
“He’s selfless,” I answered simply, having to work hard to keep my two word response unemotional.
“More like stupid,” Ezra sneered under his breath.
“Isn’t selflessness part of the Immortal way?” I shot back, my rebuff intended for Ezra, but it was Draco that responded.
“There’s a fine lie between selflessness and self-preservation, Bryn. Professor Winter’s crossed that line.” Then Draco’s somber expression flattened, and a smile curled up one side of his mouth. “But there’s no need to cry over spilled Mortality . . . Professor Winter’s gift is quite exceptional and will come in handy again, I’m sure.”
“I think we’ve ascertained the selflessness of Professor Winters,” John said, sounding bored. “I’d like to know how you’d explain his obvious intensity towards you. Whenever I come around you two, I can feel the anger rolling from him,” John finished, revealing that William’s strong emotions had not only been felt by me.
How could I answer this? It wouldn’t be wise to deny William’s behavior; John was already convinced. It would be even less wise to admit the reason why he wanted to tear John’s head off. My mind raced over the past couple days . . . searching for something . . . some kind of innocent explanation—and then I recalled Patrick’s comments regarding William’s reputation.
I watched a few sets of eyebrows raise at my continued silence, so I went with the only thing I had. “Well, I’m sure you’re aware that Master William has a tendency towards . . . crankiness at times.” The lie felt like a sacrilege, but if it kept him safe, it was worth it. “Especially if someone distracts his student from their studies.”
John’s smile and roaring laughter came instantly, as if I’d just said the funniest thing he’d heard in years. The Council attempted to hide the smirks on their faces; they were also familiar with William’s austere reputation. For the first time since I’d met Patrick, I felt grateful we’d been introduced.
“You’re an observant one, aren’t you? It generally takes a few weeks before our young Immortals pick up on the quirks of our Alliance’s most distinguished professor,” John spoke in between his continued laughter. “I certainly hope he hasn’t embittered your time here too much.”
If only John knew. Everything besides William had embittered my stay here. William had been the best part of these past couple days—the best part of my life.
Lourdes cut in for the first time. He had a quality to his face, making it both so equally handsome and pretty, it would have inspired the great renaissance artists. “Going back to your studies, Miss Dawson . . . has anyone gone over the reason we are reborn into Immortality with pale blue eyes?”
Gulp. This conversation had taken yet another uncomfortable turn.
“Yes
, John discussed that with me last night.”
Lourdes nodded his head, not appearing pleased or displeased. “Then you understand the importance . . . the requirement, we Immortals hold purity to.” Lourdes’s conviction resonated through every inch of the room. “Our ability to set aside our own desires for the interest of the greater good is what makes us superior. That is why the Councils were created centuries ago—to decide what is best for our kind.”
The men around him nodded their heads in agreement as he continued, “It is very difficult for a young Immortal to understand the stringency of our ways—the Mortal desires don’t die off right away. It is essential, though, that you immediately adhere to our ways, hard as they may be.” Lourdes’ face was lined with wrinkles of fervency. “Do you understand the consequences for breaking the rules of our kind?” He didn’t wait for my response, though I’m sure I knew the answer.
“Death,” he said, as the word vibrated through my body, spreading it’s blackness through every nerve, muscle and vein. “Not just Immortal death—to go on completing life as a Mortal—but end of existence death . . . wiped off the face of the planet.”
The blackness tearing through me, intensified. I focused my attention on the top button of Lourdes’s jacket, not allowing my eyes to look directly into his, because I knew they would betray me. They would betray everything my mind circled around now, and the fear. Extreme fear—not for me, but for William.
“Enough of the severe dogma for one day, my friend,” Julius said to Lourdes, lightening the mood with about as much effect as the devil turning the temperature down a degree or two in hell. “No need to completely terrify the girl.” He motioned with his hand to me. “Besides, she’s already well informed and has been an exemplary Immortal from John’s report.” Julius looked to John to confirm, and John nodded his head in agreement.
“Absolutely exemplary,” he answered, sounding as if his response was filled with a hidden meaning.
“The Council is satisfied. We have no further questions for her, John. We will deliberate and give you the Council’s decision soon,” Draco said.
“Thank you, Gentlemen.” John bowed his head and stood up. “I will take my leave while you deliberate.”
John came and stood beside me. I felt relieved since I was certain the inquisition was coming to an end, and I’d passed whatever test I’d just undergone.
“Come Bryn, we’re finished here, and you’ve got to get going. Although, I do apologize that I’ve sentenced you to two long days with your . . . what was the word you used?” John rubbed his chin with pleasure. “Cranky, wasn’t it? Yes, two days alone with your cranky professor.” A few low-strained chuckles came from the Council.
John looked at me with expectancy in his eyes, before pointing with them towards the Council. I understood his hint. “Thank you Gentlemen, it was nice to have met you.” Did I sound as convincing as I hoped? I was getting better at burying my true feelings, especially when it was needed to keep the person I loved safe.
The six remaining men at the Council table nodded their heads, and a couple even smiled their farewells. John turned me around and escorted me through the cavern. The spring returned in my steps, and my heartbeat changed from one of anxiety to one of anticipation. What could it be, one minute until I saw him again . . . maybe two?
Noting my hurried pace, and mistaking it for another reason, John leaned in closer than was appropriate given our relationship, and whispered, “I do apologize for the formality to this meeting, but it was necessary. The room is a little intimidating, as is the Council, but you have nothing to worry about now.” He affixed his hand to my elbow and fingered the surrounding skin in slow circles with his thumb. “Unless you do something to break the code.”
From the corner of my eyes, I saw the smile creep onto his lips and I could guess what code he was referring to me breaking. I didn’t respond, and focused on not shuddering under his malignant touch. I could see the door in front of us, and my pace quickened again. John pushed open the steel door, and I jumped onto the first floor in my excitement. He shut the door behind us and escorted me back to the foyer, replacing his hand on my elbow.
As soon as we entered the massive foyer, my eyes found him—they were drawn to him as a compass was to north. He was sitting on the last step of the staircase, slumped forward, and his hands were clasped around the sides of his head. He looked up when we approached, and while his body posture indicated something was wrong, his face took my breath away when I saw the despair written across it. I watched a hint of relief wash some of his worry lines clean when he saw me walking towards him, so I smiled, hoping it would eliminate the remaining worry from his face.
“I do apologize for keeping Miss Dawson from her studies this morning, but the matter was pressing,” John said, attributing William’s discomposure to something else thankfully. “Since you’re taking her away for a couple of days, it had to be attended to immediately. She is set to go now, so you’d better get going if you’re going to keep her on schedule with her studies.” John’s eyes searched the room. “Is Patrick here, as well?”
William’s eyes didn’t leave mine when he responded, “He’s pulling the car around front.”
“Well, you’re on your way then,” John announced, and released my elbow to grab my hand. “Have a safe journey.”
He raised my hand to his lips and pressed them to it. I felt nauseated, but did my part, and didn’t snap my hand away from his lips and smack him across the face like I wanted to. Done pressing their poison into my skin, he removed his lips, lowered my hand, and walked away. “Good journey to you Mr. Winters,” he bellowed, before exiting the foyer.
I walked over to where William sat motionless on the stairs, and kneeled beside him. I wanted to raise my hand to his cheek . . . to offer some kind of physical reassurance, but I knew I couldn’t.
His eyes wouldn’t meet mine. They just glared angry holes into the marble floor.
“Hey, look at me,” I asked softly. “Please, William. Look at me.”
His eyes shifted to mine slowly—as if trudging through waist-deep snow—and the anger and terror still held them captive, but I didn’t let them detour my courage. I smiled. “See, I’m alright. No harm done, I promise,” I reassured him. “So please, cheer up. You’re killing me with the way you look right now.” I nudged his shoulder with mine. “Don’t make me do something to you right here on the stairs that would get us into trouble. A lot of trouble.”
His face didn’t change immediately, but his eyes stared into mine—looking hard and deep like they had on so many occasions before. I held his gaze, allowing him whatever he needed right now.
The torrid emotions finally began to melt from his eyes, but I held his stare. The final remnants were swimming away when he jolted up, guiding me up with him at the same time. “Let’s get out of here,” he whispered urgently.
He reached for my hand, and despite the fear the Council had just impressed upon me minutes ago, I couldn’t shy away from his touch. At that moment when he touched me, I didn’t care. I didn’t think about the Council and their warnings, and the code admonishing the right for one Immortal to choose another of their own accord to spend forever with. His hand in mine made everything right, and any of the remaining dread from the Council and that awful room, followed by seeing William slumped in misery, melted away and I felt nothing but content.
He rushed me out the front door, still gripping my hand in his.
“My bag,” I reminded him, looking to the top of the staircase where I’d left it as he pulled me out to the front porch.
“It’s already in the car,” he answered, as my eyes continued to scan over my shoulder for anything that I might have left behind.
“Please, Bryn.” He screeched to a stop. “I need to get you out of here. Now.”
I startled at his abrupt response; there was so much urgency in his voice. Viewing my reaction, he softened some. “I don’t mean to alarm you.
” He attempted his most convincing, mischievous smile. “I’m just eager—to put it lightly—to have you to myself the next couple days,” he said, and even though the smile wasn’t quite right, it still gave me crazy heart palpitations.
“Not completely to yourself, Professor.”
Patrick came out of nowhere, and was standing at the bottom of the stairs. He was dressed in his usual black three-piece suit—although today’s version was pin-striped. William’s Bronco was behind him and running—they were both in a hurry to get out of here.
“Holy smokes, Bryn,” Patrick exclaimed, letting out an exaggerated whistle. “No wonder William’s having a panic attack wanting to get you out of here.” His eyes appraised the dress I was planning to burn as soon as I got out of it.
“Were you trying to give all the Council members heart attacks?” His dimples were drilled deep in his cheeks from the huge smile on his face. “If death were possible for us, I wouldn’t mind going from the coronary croak caused by staring at you.”
William and I rushed down the stairs, and he threw a good punch into Patrick’s arm in passing.
“Oh, come on,” Patrick continued. “Don’t pretend you’re not trying your darndest to keep your eyes off her right now.”
William stopped, and his glare moved from Patrick, to survey me. “Are you planning on wearing that for the rest of the day?” he asked, his face looking undecided.
“I guess.” I shrugged. At least until I could change into the familiar cotton that had never betrayed me as today’s foreign number had.
He looked over at Patrick, and without hesitation, said, “You’re driving. I don’t think I could concentrate on the road with you beside me in that weapon of mass distraction.” He motioned at my dress with his hands.
Patrick let a sharp laugh out behind us. “I knew it! You’re not as focused as you let on.”
William rolled his eyes as he opened the door for me. He shut the door behind me and I buckled up automatically.
I smiled as I remembered William telling me how long it’d taken him to overcome his Mortal habits—like fastening an unnecessary seatbelt. I removed it and glanced in the back. My bag was there, along with two others.
William leapt into the backseat from the passenger side, selecting the seat farthest from me. When I gazed with confusion at the space between us, he smiled—understanding.
“Only temporarily, I promise—just until we’re safely away from the overabundance of watchful eyes here.” As if reminded, he scanned the grounds. “As soon as we’ve got a couple miles behind us, I’ll be right there”—he patted the middle seat between us—“faster than you can form that lovely lower lip of yours into a pout,” he finished, tapping my lips to prove his point.
Patrick jumped into the driver’s seat, and wasting no time, he hit the gas; leaving Townsend Manor and the Council in the dust.
“What did the Council want?” William asked me, but kept his eyes forward and stared unseeingly through the windshield.
“I don’t know . . . nothing, really,” I answered. I hadn’t yet processed what had been the reason for the formal interview, and as I did now, I could come to no solid conclusions. “They asked me a few things about my Mortal life, how I liked Townsend Manor, what I thought of my professor . . .”
William’s face remained burdened, and not being able to bear it any longer, I said, “Don’t worry, I told them you were the best professor I’ve ever kissed.”
That got both William and Patrick’s attention. Patrick looked at me through the rear view mirror with incredulous eyes while William’s eyes were amused. “You were much too generous,” he said, with sparks in his pale-blue eyes—reminding me of something.
“Why are John’s eyes . . .”—I stumbled, not sure how to phrase it—“. . . enlightened?”
William raised his eyebrows in disbelief, and Patrick snickered.
“I know why,” I emphasized quickly, shooting them both back with the same looks they were giving me. “But I’ve been told with severity two times in the past twenty-four hours what the consequences are for this taking place without a Union granted by the Council . . . so I’m assuming he must have had a wife somewhere along the way,” I said, watching William’s face go blank again. “Where is she now?”
“Six feet under,” Patrick mumbled, sounding grave.
William cast a warning look in Patrick’s direction before turning back to me, with the unreadable expression on his face he wore whenever he was about to edit certain information from me.
“If you’re not going to tell me the whole truth, I’d rather hear what Patrick has to say on the matter,” I said, crossing my arms.
“Bryn—”
“No, I’m serious, William,” I argued back, when he tried to calm me with his placating voice and expression to match. “I understand why you understate certain things . . . you don’t want to terrify me—but there’s too many things going on right now I need to know about. No more editing, underemphasizing, or half-truths . . . okay? I need to know what you know.”
Patrick was shaking his head and laughing silently. “Boy does she have you pegged. That’s what you get for picking a smart girl, William.”
William sighed, but the unreadable expression dropped to display the discomfort hiding behind it. “The rumor is—” William stopped short when Patrick turned his head and raised his brows in disapproval.
“Okay . . . what most likely happened,” he sneered at Patrick, and continued, “was that John had Julianna, his wife of twenty years, killed a few years back.” William paused, looking at me carefully, but I was keeping all my shock locked within me. “John and the Council said that Julianna ran off, although she’s not been seen or heard from ever since.”
“Why would John do something like that?” I asked. This caused William’s face to wince. Patrick even seemed uncomfortable with my question, as he tried to separate himself from the conversation to gaze out the window with feigned curiosity.
“John has a”—he looked as if he were trying to select the right word—“preference for more than one woman. Julianna supposedly discovered this, and threatened to expose his adultery to the Immortal community . . .”
I reached across the seat for his hand and squeezed it. “I see,” I assured him, so he wouldn’t have to go into anymore of the gruesome details he was so uncomfortable sharing with me. Despite the reassurance my voice had managed, I felt anything but, as I imagined this poor woman at the mercy and whims of John Townsend.
We all remained quiet for awhile after that, gazing with artificial interest at the passing scenery. The Oregon countryside was beautiful, but I couldn’t enjoy it right away. I was too chilled by the knowledge William and just imparted on me, and busy checking behind us, paranoid that John would appear out of nowhere and make us go back.
Patrick started humming some tune I wasn’t familiar with, and keeping beat with his thumbs over the steering wheel. I sighed and closed my eyes, reassured that if we’d already made it this far without being turned around and sent back, we were in the clear.
I felt a sudden surge of electricity as my eyes opened, and William was beside me, wrapping his arm around me. “I told you,” he whispered in my ear. I leaned into him, resting my head on his chest, and was immediately lost in him. My worries of the Council were gone by the time I felt the first heartbeat pound in his chest.
He kissed the top of my head and lingered there for awhile. “I would have had an aneurism, if it were possible, when you walked out of your room this morning,” he whispered. “You look so good, I’m having a tough time being good.”
“Alright you guys, I’m trying to drive without throwing-up, could you cut it out, please?” Patrick whined from the front seat. “Let’s not forget I’m doing you a favor. If I wouldn’t have gone, there’s no way John would have let the two of you out of there together.”
Patrick was probably right, but I wasn’t in the mood for his melodrama, nor particular
ly concerned about his gag reflexes; and to prove it, I lifted my head from William’s chest and pressed my lips forcefully to his, not in a hurry to remove them. I saw the initial look of surprise in William’s eyes turn swiftly into that burning I’d become so familiar with when his lips moved over mine in reciprocation.
I noticed Patrick peering at us through the rear-view mirror. When my eyes caught his, he flashed them away and to the road again. I was pretty sure I saw some color added to his cheeks, but I couldn’t miss my opportunity to pay him back for all his jesting at our expense.
I placed one final kiss on the corner of William’s mouth before turning my head forward. I smiled coyly. “See anything you like back here, Patrick?” William muffled his laugh into my shoulder.
Patrick colored even deeper, and he muttered something under his breath about not being paid enough to supervise a lover’s weekend getaway.
I smiled, pleased I’d rendered a counter-attack on the all-too-quick and witty man in the front seat. For the moment, I’d had the last word, but I knew it wouldn’t last long.
I found my way back to the haven of William’s arms and let my mind fast forward over the possibilities the next couple of days could hold.
“Where are we going?” I asked, having no idea.
“We’ll be staying in Pacific City tonight and we’ll drive down to Corvallis in the morning,” William answered.
I lifted my head and looked at him with a serious expression. “Has your plan formulated as to what you’ll say to Paul tomorrow?”
While Paul and I were far from best friends, he was the closest thing to a friend I had at OSU, and someone who’d shown an exceptional level of concern and kindness for me. I wasn’t going to let an ill-formed plan lead to his demise.
William’s face fixed in concentration, as if thinking how to best respond.
Patrick spoke up first. “Oh come on, just admit to her you don’t have a clue what you’re going to do with our smitten Paul.” He winked at William through the rear view mirror. “Although, after seeing a picture of the strapping young lad and his zeal for finding Bryn, I understand why you wouldn’t want to come up with a plan for him either . . . why you’d want John to take care of him for you.” Patrick laughed wickedly.
William heaved forward and smacked the side of Patrick’s head, throwing it into the side of the Bronco.
“Geez, you’ve really had a string of over-reactions lately,” Patrick whined, rubbing his head. “You should be happy to know I don’t think you caused any permanent damage.”
William reached across me and rubbed the small indentation Patrick’s steel-like head had left into the frame of his Bronco. “I don’t care about your head, but stop hurting my car,” he complained, fingering the dent.
Patrick glanced at the dent and shook his head while chuckling. “Oops, sorry about that. I’ll have Henry fix that when we get back. He’s getting pretty familiar with this vehicle.”
I didn’t allow their rough-housing to detour me from my objective. “So . . .”—I turned to William, examining his face carefully—“do you, or do you not, have a plan for Paul?”
His eyes turned down and he shook his head. “No, I don’t. I’ve been so focused and consumed with trying to keep you out of John’s way, and as far removed from the Council as possible, that I haven’t spent more than a minute’s time on Paul.”
“Alright then,” I announced formally, sitting up straight in my seat. “I’ve got a plan. It’s a little different . . . but I really think it’s the only thing that will work . . . and since it’s the only plan we’ve got, I say we run with it.”
William looked at me with a mixture of confusion and enjoyment written on his face.
Patrick lifted his eyebrows in speculation. “Let’s hear it.”
I was more than a little nervous to voice the plan that had taken shape in my head last night. I already knew how adamantly against it William would be, and Patrick would probably just laugh and call it ridiculous. I also knew it probably wasn’t the best plan, and if it back fired, it would be extremely dangerous for all parties involved, but it was all we had . . . and with that knowledge, I proceeded.
“Paul is already convinced that I’m alive, and there’s little either one of you could say to convince him otherwise. If eyewitness accounts aren’t enough to convince him, I’m certain neither one of your assurances or guarantees that I am in fact dead, will do anything to change his mind.” I looked at both of them, waiting for some argument, but none came . . .yet. “So, I think the only thing that would work here, and get him to disband the search efforts is to confirm what he already believes.” I waited again, knowing that surely both of them would break into bouts of protest.
All I saw were a couple of puzzled faces, so I continued, attempting to be more specific. “He already believes I’m still alive, so let’s show him that I am.”
And that was the tipping point. They both simultaneously erupted—Patrick throwing around profanities and speculations that I was insane, while William shouted that there was no way he was going to allow that; intermingled with warnings to Patrick to watch his language.
I remained the calm in the middle of the storm. Their arguments with my plan were not legitimate; insanity, my protection . . . these were not relevant objections to detour us from saving an innocent person’s life, and they knew it as well as I did.
William turned to me. “I can’t allow that, Bryn. If John or the Council found out, their punishment would be . . .” He hesitated, not wanting to say the words.
“The punishment would be quick and severe,” Patrick, not caring if he scared, terrified or chastised me, spoke what William could not. “Are you so ready to meet that possibility head on, Bryn?”
I thought about that for a few moments before answering. “Yes, I am.” I was indeed. If this possible consequence was all that would keep us from saving Paul from a certain death, then yes; I was more than willing.
Patrick huffed in the front seat, and William sat silent beside me.
“Girl’s got guts, William. I say we hear the rest.” I was taken aback by Patrick’s half compliment, but ecstatic to have gained an ally.
William threw a look of hatred Patrick’s way.
“William, please . . .” I rested my hand on the side of his stone hard face. “You know there’s no other way.” I placed my hand over his heart, feeling its anxiety-induced thrumming. “This is the only way to save Paul from whatever John has planned for him, and while you’ve not vocalized it to me, I’m fairly sure what John’s plan is, and I cannot allow it. I will not allow it.”
His face was contorting into a slew of unpleasant emotions I hated to see, but I couldn’t give up now, not with Paul’s life on the line. I stirred up the last bit of courage I had as I stared into the anguished face I loved beyond reason, and continued, “I’ll tell Paul that I ran away—that I was tired of school, my friends, and everything. That I needed to let go of everything from my past and start fresh somewhere else. Once Paul sees I’m alright and I impress upon him the necessity to keep quiet, I know he will keep silent. I trust that about him.”
William’s eyes blazed slightly with a new intensity of emotion I’d not seen there before—jealously, perhaps?
“The only reason he’s doing this is because he cares about me. Once he knows I’m safe and all is well, he will stop all of this, and we can all go on with our lives—his Mortally, and ours Immortally,” I finished, looking at him expectantly.
He let out a distressed sigh, his eyes looking defeated. Before he opened his mouth, I knew I’d won. Patrick was already on my side, and William knew I was right, no matter how much angst it caused him.
“Alright, we’ll try it your way,” he said with hesitancy. Then his eyes flamed. “But if I suspect even the slightest danger to you, I’m getting you out of there and we’re aborting this ridiculous plan,” he warned. “Do you understand?”
I figured these were the
best terms I would get; actually, they’d been more than I’d anticipated from him. I thought it would take several hours of Patrick and me beating him down. I was thankful it wasn’t necessary and that he conceded to what we all already knew—there was no other option. Now we could just enjoy the rest of the day. And night . . .
I nestled my head under his chin, but he was so tense his body felt hard as steel. A few minutes later, I felt the rigid muscles in his chest and jaw relax. He tied both arms around me and his fingers searched for my lips. He found them, and I kissed each one as they brushed over them.
He whispered to me so softly Patrick couldn’t have even heard it, “I can’t lose you, Bryn. Not now that I’ve finally found you.” Then he lifted his mouth from my ear and looked straight ahead. “I won’t lose you.”
Perhaps he was announcing for Patrick and I to both hear his vow, or maybe it was spoken just for himself, but either way, its passion and strength bloomed in me like a an oasis in the Sahara.