Forbidden

Roseline shoves her payment through the narrow slot in the window to the cabbie and stumbles out of the car. Once inside, the stairs prove too tricky for her fuddled mind so she takes them on hands and knees. The instant Roseline hits the bed she passes out.

  Early morning light soon streams through the grimy windows, warming her face. She groans as she rolls over. Her head feels like it has been kicked in, and her throat burns with lingering acid from the night before. The taste in her mouth and the scent coming from the floor beside her bed tells her that sometime during her night her body expelled the two hot dogs she consumed at the game.

  Unwilling to face the day, Roseline throws the covers over her face and falls back into a fitful sleep. Each time she wakes, the computer calls to her, begging her to contact Fane, but she knows an email won’t be enough. She needs to speak with him. Hear his voice.

  As the sun begins to set, Roseline cleans up the mess beside her bed, opens a window to freshen the air, and pulls on a tank top and shorts. She laces up her running shoes and bounds down the stairs. Running has always helped to clear her thoughts in the past and she really hopes it will work today.

  Trapped within the confines of a human world, she is forced into a speed that feels achingly slow, an annoying alternative to the speed her legs long for.

  Her heart overrules her mind as her feet pound the pavement leading to a row of shops a few blocks away. She doesn’t wake from her haze until the tinkling of a bell on the cell phone company’s door snaps her out. Less than half an hour later, Roseline rushes back home to plug in her new, shiny, electric blue phone.

  She paces as the tiny bars cycle through its charging mode. She chides herself for her impulsive purchase, finally convincing herself it will only be used for emergencies.

  Isn’t this an emergency?

  Roseline snatches the phone off the charger and scours the room for the tiny scrap of paper where she jotted down Sadie’s number.

  “Hey, it’s me,” she says when the voicemail clicks on. “Look, Sadie, I’m really sorry about bailing on you, again. I know it’s becoming a bad habit.”

  She pauses, running her hands through her wind-tangled hair. “I just wanted to let you know I’m okay and that I’ve got a new phone. The number is…where is it?”

  She fumbles through her paperwork and rattles off the number to Sadie’s voicemail then hangs up. She releases her breath. “Okay, that wasn’t so bad.”

  Logic reminds her that registering a phone to her name was dangerous, even if it is a pre-paid phone. Paper trails have a way of coming back to bite you. She sits staring at the phone laying in her hands until she jerks upright at the arrival of a new scent. Gabriel has found her!

  His fists pound against the front door. She can hear the lock groan in protest as his banging continues. No doubt her neighbors will call the police thinking there is a domestic disturbance on their block.

  How does he know where she lives, though? Jimmy’s bar is over three miles from here and there is no way Sadie would willingly cough up the information unless…Roseline sighs.

  After her last disappearing act, Sadie made it perfectly clear that she would rat her out the moment she sniffed trouble. No doubt her “bat out of hell” act last night sparked Sadie’s protective side.

  The pounding continues for nearly ten minutes before Gabriel finally gives up and stomps down the porch steps. She tiptoes to the window to watch him slip down the icy sidewalk. He turns just before he climbs into the driver’s seat. The grim look on his face nearly convinces Roseline to call attention to herself but she resists the urge.

  She walks back across the creaking floor and paces around the center of the room for nearly an hour. The phone feels like an anvil in her hand, dragging her down. She sinks onto the rickety stool with her heart and body weary from exhaustion.

  “I shouldn’t do it,” she mutters, spinning the cell phone in circles on the wooden table. She stares at it, waging an internal war. “Oh crap,” she grumbles, flipping the phone open. Her fingers dance over the keys, shaking so badly she wonders if she has gotten the number right.

  “Hello?” Roseline bursts into tears at the sound of the deeply masculine voice on the other end of the line. “Roseline?”

  She wipes her nose with the back of her hand. “Yeah, it’s me, Fane.”

  “I’ve been worried sick about you.” She can hear a creaking door in the background and remembers how careful she must be. The castle has ears. “Where are you? Why are you crying?”

  Her throat catches as she imagines Fane’s brow knit with concern. “I’ve missed you so much,” she cries. “I’m so sorry I left you.”

  “I know,” Fane whispers. His hand covers the receiver as he speaks. “I’ve missed you too.”

  “I guess you’re wondering why I’m calling,” Roseline laughs weakly, drying her tears.

  She can hear a creak of a chair followed swiftly by a heart-thumping bass line. Glancing at the clock, she realizes that she was a fool to forget the time difference. Her family is awake. “Yeah, it must be something pretty important for you to risk exposure. What’s up?”

  Roseline clamps her eyes shut, wincing at the ache in her heart. She has refused to allow herself to miss him, but now all of her feelings come rushing back in. Fane is her best friend, her only reason for living…until Gabriel.

  “I think I’m in trouble.”

  “Tell me,” Fane demands. She can hear a faint sound on the line, a clacking she can’t quite place.

  “No, it’s not like that. I am fine. It’s just—” Roseline chews on her lip. “There’s this guy.”

  “Are you kidding me? You drop off the grid without so much as a goodbye and now you want to chat about boys?” She winces at his biting words.

  “Yes, please just listen to me—”

  Fane cuts off her plea. “No, you listen to me. You need to come home. Vladimir is on a rampage and is taking it out on Brasov. People are dying, Roseline.”

  “Oh no,” she groans, sinking out of the chair and onto the floor. “How bad is it?”

  “It’s not pretty,” Fane growls. “What did you think would happen?”

  “I don’t know,” she snaps back. “I just…I couldn’t take it anymore.”

  Fane sighs heavily on the other end of the line. “I understand, but you know how this will end. He will find you and when he does I’m not sure I can stop him from killing you this time. If you come back, he might be more lenient.”

  Roseline’s fingers begin to tremble. Age-old wounds flare up. Images of blood and pain fill her mind’s eye. She clamps her eyes shut, forcing away the memories. “I can’t come back.”

  “You have to. It’s the only way to save your life. I can’t lose you.” Fane’s voice chokes off.

  Even after all this time, Fane’s love for her has never faded. Their secret love affair spanned two centuries, but the amount of time they had managed to snatch together wouldn’t even be able to fill one year on a calendar. Vladimir watches her like a hawk and Roseline knew it was only a matter of time before he found out about their relationship. Fane has yet to heal from their breakup nearly fifty years ago.

  “Are you going to help me or not?”

  She can hear Fane’s murmured curses in the background. “You know I will. What’s wrong?”

  “It’s about this boy—”

  “Immortal?” he cuts her off.

  Here it comes. “No. He’s mortal.”

  Fane blows out a breath. “Oh good, you had me worried for a moment. I’m not understanding why there is a problem.”

  “There’s something weird going on with him. It’s starting to worry me.” She quickly fills him in on all of the unusual things she has noticed about Gabriel. As the conversation wears on, she begins to sense Fane’s tension. “So, what do you think?”

  “Never heard anything like it—” he hesitates. “I don’
t like it, Roseline. He might be dangerous. I think you need to leave, right now.”

  Roseline sucks in a breath. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?” Fane asks. The sharp edge of his confusion makes her wince.

  “I just can’t, okay?”

  His response is delayed far longer than it should have been. Roseline frowns, clutching the phone tightly to her ear as she strains to hear. She detects a faint whirring and stiffens.

  “Fine. Then let me come get you,” Fane suggests absently. “I don’t trust that guy.”

  Roseline blanches as the pieces of the puzzle come together—–the whirring and clicking…he’s tracing her call!

  “I gotta go, Fane. Thanks for the talk.”

  “No, Roseline wait.” The pause confirms her suspicion. He has probably managed to narrow her down to the United States, perhaps even the Midwest, but has the computer calculated her exact location? “Please don’t go just yet.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers, truly meaning it. “This was a mistake.”

  “Roseline—”

  “I love you.” She disconnects the line to her home, to the only person who has ever truly understood her. Three centuries of memories flood her mind as she launches the phone at the far wall. It bounces off in a rain of shattered bits of plastic. She stares at the lifeless pieces scattered across the wooden floor. She buries her face in her hands. “Just like my life.”

  Twenty-Four