“Any cards, Peters?”
“No, My Lord.” The butler hurried to take Williams jacket. “But a Mr. Smith is waiting in your study.”
William nodded, rolling his shoulders and attempting to ease the tautness of his muscles. “Good man, feel free to retire.”
“Thank you, My Lord.” Peters bowed and swept down the hall.
He certainly didn’t need any servants eavesdropping at the door. He hoped, if they did overhear, they would know better than to gossip. If the world knew what was out there… there’d be utter chaos. Fortunately, there were men like him. Men who would do their all to see this country safe from demons. God’s work is what they were doing and he would make sure every last monster was killed. Even his own daughter.
His hip twinged, an ache that thrummed through is thigh. He paused, grimacing. His body was still stiff from that tumble. He’d had three lacerations that had needed stitches. His entire being ached. Yet there was a warm sense of satisfaction that coursed through his body, that kept him going. He’d been through hell, but he’d seen his mission completed. Now, if only he could locate his daughter and finish his mistakes once and for all.
He paused in the hall, his hands shaking. He must find Collette and he had no doubt he would. He’d uncovered the truth. He’d found her once. Yes, there had been a slight mistake and Lord Brockwell’s servant had been killed, his men thinking she was Collette. But she was merely a servant, easily disposed of. One life given for the greater good. Yes, he’d found his daughter once and he would again.
For now, this moment, he’d celebrate the fact that he’d done what he had been planning all long. He’d killed the very family responsible for his sin. They’d pulled him into their web of deceit with their lies. But in the end, he had won and he didn’t feel a bloody ounce of guilt.
Emma had lied to him. Lied. All lies. Had told him she loved him. And he’d let her, in a moment of passion, drink his blood. He’d let her because she said she needed it to live and would have to feed from someone else if not his. And she was beautiful and she had said she loved him. But she couldn’t love. It was only after, that he’d realized he was becoming a monster like her. And there was no room in Heaven for demons.
Swallowing hard, he smoothed down his waistcoat and started for the study. He’d done what he had to. He would again, do what he had to do and find Collette. Get rid of her, so she wouldn’t grow into a monster. And then… then perhaps he could start a family. A real family. This house was too large and quiet for only him.
William started to reach for the doorknob of his study when the soft tinkle of piano keys wafted down the hall. He paused, frowning. Who would dare touch his things? No servant, for they knew they’d be tossed out upon their ear without a letter of recommendation.
Annoyed that his mood was quickly souring, he started down the hall. Emma had wanted that room and he’d decorated it for her as a wedding day present. It was well past time to redecorate. He reached the music room and rested his fingers on the handle, when the music notes came together in a soft, melodic song.
Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.
William froze. His heart dropped to his feet and his blood went cold.
Emma’s favorite song. She’d play the depressing melody over and over until he thought he’d go insane. “Emma,” he whispered. “No. No, it can’t be.”
He fumbled with the cold, porcelain door knob, his blasted fingers trembling too badly. With an angry shove, the door flew wide, the panel banging against the wall. There, on the threshold, his gaze first found the light.
Candle’s stood on tall candelabras that surrounded the perimeter of the room and gave the place a soft glow. A muffled cry was barely audible over the tinkle of keys. William jerked his head to the right. Mr. Smith sat on a chair in the middle of the floor, his legs tied at the ankles, his arms behind his back and a white gag over his mouth. The man’s wide eyes pleaded for help.
Panic swept through him. Slowly, William’s gaze traveled to the piano. There, at the bench, a familiar man with dark hair and broad shoulders. He wore no jacket, but only his shirtsleeves, as if relaxed, welcome. His muscled arms moved as his fingers swept over keys, the melody repeating over and over until William thought he’d go insane.
Anger mixed with fear, a combination that left him sweating. “You chose your own life then?”
The music stopped, the notes hanging in the air, a horrible reminder of Emma. Slowly, Grayson turned on the bench. His face looked passive, content almost, as if they were merely having a chat.
“Of course not. I’m not a monster, like you. I managed to save Meg as well as myself.” He smiled, and chuckled softly. “Actually, she managed to save us both. Very intelligent woman I married.”
No! No! This couldn’t be. William’s gaze jumped to Smith, the bastard who had failed. “So what then?” His attention returned to Grayson, realizing Smith would be of no help. Dare he scream for the servants? “You’ll kill me now?”
Grayson merely stared at him with those eerie green eyes that were so like Emma’s. The demon was playing God, holding William’s life in his hands and enjoying it.
The seconds ticked by and William’s anxiety grew. Sweat beaded across his forehead. This was it. He was going to die. He’d known it might happen. But at least he’d die for the good of humanity. Feigning a confidence he didn’t feel, he tilted his head high. He would not cower to this monster.
Grayson stood. William’s heart jumped into his throat, but he managed to keep still. Slowly, his brother-in-law walked toward Smith. The poor bastard’s eyes grew wide, murmured words of fear muffled behind his gag.
“I’ll give you a head start, Mr. Smith, since you told us the truth.” Grayson pulled a knife from his boot and with a flip of his wrist, cut the man’s binds.
Smith stumbled to his feet and with the gag still in place, raced past William. “You will pay,” William hissed at the man. But Smith didn’t stay to hear his warning. The man was gone, leaving William to deal with this mess alone.
“Incompetent fool.”
Grayson slapped the flat edge of his knife against his palm. “Ah, yes. Idiot couldn’t even see a simple task through. Tis’ a shame… for you. Of course I’m rather grateful.” He laughed, a charming chuckle as if they were sharing some great jest.
William breathed slowly from his nose, attempting to control his anger and fear. “What do you want? Money?”
“Want?” Grayson laughed. “You murdered my parents. You murdered my sister. God knows how many others. And you tried to murder me, Meg and Hanna.”
“Her name is Collette!”
Grayson turned, his back to William. “Perhaps once, in a different life. A life of fear and unacceptance, but not now.” He started toward the windows and William hoped…prayed he would leave. “Now she has a life, she knows love. Real love. The love she would have had all along if you hadn’t murdered her mother.”
“Do not try to put the blame on me! You are the demon! Your family tricked me into sin! You lied to me. I welcomed you into my family and you lied.”
Grayson didn’t react, as if he hadn’t heard a word William said. “My sister loved you.”
“Demons are incapable of love!” William spun around and raced into the hall. The front door loomed ahead. “Peters!” he cried, praying for help.
Grayson appeared in front of him. “Leaving so soon?”
William stumbled back, his heart slamming wildly in his chest. “You think it was easy for me to kill your family?” He walked backward, stumbling over his own feet. “It had to be done, for the good of this country!”
“Ah, well then, I forgive you,” Grayson hissed. “You’re mad. Insane.” His eyes began to glow, so like his sister’s when she fed.
William laughed, a hysterical bubble that burst from his throat. “There are others. So many others who have vendettas like me. Others who have been tricked into sinful ways by monsters like you. Others who want to protect this world. The
y will find your friends. They will find you. I might not destroy you, but they will. You think this will end with me?”
Grayson came closer, forcing him back further…further until William was stumbling back into the music room. No servants came to help. None had heard his cries.
His brother-in-law didn’t say a word as he closed the door, trapping them together. “Perhaps more will come,” Grayson said softly. “But for now, with you, it’s a start.”
William’s breath grew harsh with panic. Frantic, he spun around and raced toward the French doors. Grayson suddenly appeared before him. William stumbled to a halt. The man’s eyes glowed green… Emma’s eyes. Emma’s face. Emma. Emma stood beside her brother, a smirk upon her beautiful lips. She was waiting for him.
“No,” William whispered. “No.”
But he knew it was too late.
He would die and Emma had come to take him to hell.
Epilogue
Three Weeks Later
Meg paced outside, attempting to hear anything over the roar of the waves as they crashed upon the shore over and over like the annoying bark of a dog. She’d never hated the shore before, in fact she loved the Sea. But she’d never been so anxious.
Waiting… for three days now, waiting. The screams were unbearable and many times she’d raced toward Hanna’s room, only to have Grayson grab her around the waist and pull her back, preventing her from entering. She’d never hated her husband, but she’d come close.
How could he expect her to merely stand by? To ignore the cries of a child? The hours were almost unbearable. Hours spent wondering how much pain Hanna was in. Would she survive her transformation? And if she did, how would it change her?
Meg collapsed onto a boulder, the surface hard and smoothed by the tide. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t right for a child to go through such pain. How could God be so cruel? Grayson claimed that perhaps it was their punishment for having a longer, richer life than humans. But she couldn’t believe God would punish a mere child.
It would be better, Grayson told her. In a couple days, it would be better. They could go back to normal. But could they truly? Morose, Meg sniffed and crossed her arms over her chest.
The Sea was volatile this eve. White crested waves crashed against the rocky shore. Gray clouds hovered so low, they blended into the Sea and one couldn’t tell where the ocean ended and the sky began.
Hanna had so desperately wanted to go to the Sea and start her very own shell collection. She’d had only one day to enjoy the beach before she’d started to change. The child hadn’t been surprised, for Grayson had explained the process and what she truly was. Hanna had taken it well, most likely remembering a life before her mother had been murdered. But Hanna couldn’t have possibly known how painful the experience would become.
If only Meg could take her pain! If only she could offer the child comfort. But she could do nothing. Nothing but wait. Useless.
She sensed Grayson, smelled his scent right before his hand rested on her shoulder. Her senses were so much more powerful since she’d been drinking from him. She spun around and surged to her feet, her skirts whipping around her ankles. His hair was mussed, his white shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, to take comfort in his strength. But Hanna came first.
“What’s happened? How is she?”
He smiled, that dimple flashing. “She’s fine. The worst of it is over. She’s resting now.”
“Oh Grayson.” Meg finally gave into temptation and threw her arms around his neck, holding him tight. He was strong and warm and she felt so right against him, as if everything would be well. And it would. Just as he had said.
“She won’t have a normal life,” he whispered.
“Normal is boring,” Meg replied.
He slipped his finger under her chin, tilting her head back and forcing her to look into his eyes. “Do you know how amazing you are?”
She grinned, studying his handsome face, wanting to memorize every detail. “I’ve been told a time or two.”
The compliments still made her blush. Since she’d married Grayson, he’d made her feel again; made her feel loved, appreciated, important. She never tired of his kind words. The stress had lifted from her shoulders. As much as she loved Papa and her sisters, she was so grateful for this time alone. When Grayson had sent them to London, he’d known what she needed even if she hadn’t.
“Can I see her?” she asked.
The door squeaked open. Grayson turned, his arm around Meg’s waist. Hanna stepped outside, a shawl around her narrow shoulders. She looked pale, much paler than normal. So much smaller. Meg hadn’t seen her three days, having been forced to stay in her room, or pacing the shoreline, waiting…waiting.
Now it was over. Wasn’t it? Meg searched Hanna’s face, looking for any differences, any similarities to the child she knew. Paler than normal. A fine sheen of sweat on her face. Her little body trembling. Other than that, she looked like the same Hanna Meg had known for the past two years.
“Can I… can I go to her?”
Grayson nodded. “She won’t desire your blood as it’s tainted by mine. Vampires don’t desire another vampire’s blood. But we must stay here for another month or so, to allow her to grow accustomed to the hunger.”
A month seemed like heaven. Alone, with her new family. Able to appreciate the days and allow Hanna to become accustomed to her knew powers. “How will she feed?”
Grayson drew her finger down the side of her face, a soft caress. “Animal blood will work for now. And when she’s old enough, hopefully she will find a human to love. Someone who will love her as much as I love you.”
Tears of emotion burned Meg’s eyes. She stood on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his scruffy cheek. “I love you too.”
He winked down at her. “Go on, I know you want to see her.”
Meg moved away from the comfort of his body, slowly walking up the stone path toward Hanna, afraid of frightening her. As if Hanna was some tiny, delicate bunny, when the child could probably kill her with her hands. A few feet away, she paused in indecision. “Hanna?”
Hanna burst forward, hitting Meg’s body with a force that had her stumbling back. “Do you still love me?”
“Hanna.” Meg leaned back just enough to cup the sides of the child’s face. Her large green eyes were glowing slightly, filling with shimmering tears. “My dear, please don’t cry. Of course I love you!”
“But I’m not normal! I’m evil, it’s true. It’s why my father wanted me dead.”
She could practically feel Grayson bristling behind them.
Meg tightened her hold around the child’s cold body. How she hated Hanna’s father in that moment. “What is normal, Hanna? Is normal the Constable, a man who is so bitter and horrible he couldn’t see the truth when it was standing in front of him? Is normal Papa, a man who can’t take his sorrows and drinks them away? Is normal a man who is so blinded with hatred that he will hunt down innocents and kill them on the streets?” She pressed a kiss to the top of Hanna’s silky head. “You, my love, are as normal as they come.”
Crystal tears slipped down the child’s pale cheeks. “Are you sure?”
Meg nodded.
Hanna swiped at her nose with her sleeve, a childish movement that warmed Meg’s heart. For one long moment, she merely held the girl, taking comfort in her small body.
“Meg, can we find shells now?”
And the child she’d known was back. Meg laughed, so delighted with the change. “Of course we can!”
Hanna stepped back, a shy smile upon her face. “I’ll get a basket to collect our treasures.” Meg watched her rush into the cottage. It didn’t matter what Hanna was suddenly capable of, it didn’t matter how she fed. Hanna was still a child, a normal child.
“Do you believe that? What you said?” Grayson whispered, standing so close to her, she could feel his heat. She sank back against him, letting the wind bring forward his scent.
?
??Yes,” she whispered.
Grayson had been wrong, although she’d certainly never admit that to him. Having a normal life wasn’t about being human. It wasn’t about having a traditional family. “The richness of our lives, Gray,” she said, turning and wrapping her arms around his waist, “is not based upon what we eat, or how long we live.”
“Really?” He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. “What is it based upon then?”
She grinned against his mouth. “How well we love those around us and how well we are loved.”
His lips found hers once more. “Then we, my dear Mrs. Bellamont, have a very rich life indeed.”
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
Lori Brighton, A Night Of Secrets, A Paranormal Romance
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends