A lifetime of waiting had finally come to a close.
Surging through me was power, but also our history. If Elijah’s words held any truth, wedding them with how I felt, my mind tried to grasp the concept of what I now possessed, centuries of knowledge. Though this buzz provided an interesting, if not arousing sensation, the fact that Jacob stood on the other side of the door was easily more compelling.
Despite what I’d done within this very hour, I felt calm. Elijah’s heritage was not lost, but absorbed, his memories stolen, perchance to be liberated some other day. Willing to do anything to protect my son, I’d brought down the most ancient of legacies and felt no regret.
Having fed, my pallor would at least grant me a few hours. Trying to find the right words, searching for a way to convey feelings unaffected by time, I traced the door with my fingertips and then gave it a shove.
Jacob’s smile greeted me.
I laid his leather bag onto the side table. It was a familiar item in an unfamiliar setting. I needed to pass for a man in his late forties, despite my thirty-year-old appearance. Mindful of the way I moved, I stepped closer. “You look well.”
He looked lost amongst the lavish décor. Despite his youth, work had taken a toll. Even at such a young age, he looked older than twenty-one.
“Jacob.” I approached him.
“Are you really my father?”
“I am.”
“You look so young.”
“I live well.” I strolled with the air of a gentleman. A manner with which I hoped to convey I had indeed reached middle-age.
“What were you doing in that house?” he asked.
“I came looking for you.”
“And the monk?”
“He couldn’t stay.”
Jacob gave the deepest sigh. “I wasn’t born in London?”
“No.”
His stare wandered the room. “You’re Spanish? I’m Spanish?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me then.”
“My nephew sold you.” Stupid way to start. I paused for a moment and rested my hand over my heart, gesturing that it was good to be near him. I searched for the right words.
Teary-eyed, Jacob seemed lost.
From within my trouser pocket, I withdrew the locket. “This is yours.” I handed it over to him.
As he took the piece from me, his hand brushed against mine, and I felt an inner tremor, relieved that he was here with me after all this time.
Jacob prized open the clasp and gazed at the renderings inside. “How did you find this?”
“Sunaria found it.”
Jacob studied the locket. “I sold it for food. Two days later, Dr. Potts saw me begging and took me in.”
Arms out, unable to hold back anymore, I gestured to him. Jacob neared me and wrapped his arms around me. I held him tight and everything that had once seemed important slipped away. Here, now, in this moment, I found truth like no other, and despite this foreign land, this foreign place, we were home.
He broke away. “How did you find me?”
Taking a moment, I considered my answer, unsure whether to reveal that I’d watched over him all these years, and been part of his life, when all the while he’d not even been aware of mine. His uncanny likeness to Annabelle threw me for a second. “My friend found you. I’d . . . described you to him.”
“I’m glad.”
With my hand on my chest, I conveyed the same.
“Aunt Alicia?” As he spoke her name, his face lit up.
Being here with each other stirred memories.
I smiled, remembering her. “She’s still in Spain.”
“You write to her?”
“I do but . . .” I never send the letters.
“Do I have a brother?”
“You did.”
“What happened to him?”
“He died.”
Jacob’s face flushed. “And mother?”
“I’m so sorry.”
“How?”
I shrugged, reluctant to discuss it.
“That monk, back at the house?” Jacob began.
“He won’t be coming back.”
“He knew that you were my father, though.”
“We had a disagreement.” I looked away. “But we came to an arrangement.”
Jacob raised an eyebrow at the décor. “This is your house?”
“Yes.”
“It’s huge.”
“I’d like to think that you’ll consider living here.”
“How long have you been here?”
“A while.” Feeling unsteady on my feet, I gestured to Jacob to sit. “You’d settled into a new life. It was wrong to pull you out of it.”
Jacob sat in the chair opposite and seemed to be holding back tears. My own reasons for suppressing mine were far from human, more of a supernatural centering. I’m sorry I failed you. But couldn’t say it out loud, couldn’t express my shame of not being there for him.
“So much to say, not sure where to start.” He shook his head.
“You sound so English.” I smiled.
“So do you.” He chuckled. “My Spanish father is now an English gentleman. Although I still detect a slight accent.”
“Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?” With those words came the realization that there would be little food in the house, though there may be something left over from the staff’s meals.
He gestured that he needed nothing.
“Dr. Potts, he took good care of you?” I said.
Jacob nodded.
Over the years, the question had been answered.
“Where has all this money come from?” Jacob asked.
“Business, property dealings.”
“You’re established here in London?”
“I came here to find you. I plan to take you home.”
“Spain?” Jacob gave an uneasy smile.
“Yes.”
“London’s my home now.”
“You don’t remember your birth place?”
He gazed at the chess table. “You play?”
The game with Marcus had been abandoned a week ago. He’d been too distracted to be a worthy opponent. I’d been winning. “Do you?”
“No, but I’d like to learn.” He looked around at the sumptuous furnishings. “Business must be good.”
“Why were you visiting that home today?”
“I still make house calls to Dr. Potts’ old patients.” Jacob saw my wariness. “I’m careful.”
I wanted to pinch myself, amazed that he really sat opposite me—a man in every respect, a fine gentleman, his presence demure. Even his thoughts reflected integrity. A sense that with him, through him, I might find some inner peace, and dared to hope I’d rediscover our lost years.
“My memories are a little hazy,” he said thoughtfully.
“Do you remember your mother?”
“I have memories of being told about her.”
“Her name was Annabelle.”
“She died when I was very young?”
Too young to recall the attack, his age had protected him from the atrocity.
“Soldiers killed her,” I said.
“Why?”
“They were ordered to by a senator who hated me,” I explained. “He murdered my brother years before that. The fact that I knew this threatened his political career.”
“Why didn’t he kill you?”
He did.
I shrugged and my mind wandered back to a perfect summer—a Sunday afternoon, and the coolest breeze, Miguel leaning against the paddock gate, the man with the smiling eyes. Annabelle calling to me from the steps of the house, begging me to take Eduardo off the pony, after all he’d just turned four.
“Did they suffer?” Jacob said.
Breathing in the scent of blood, seeing Miguel splayed out upon the floor and, upon the bed, Annabelle, still clutching our son.
I cleared my throat. “I don’t believe so.”
“And the senator?”
I loosened my neck tie. “Dead.”
“How did he die?”
The blood of my enemies not spilt but imbibed.
Jacob’s stare was persistent.
My beloved Spain’s darkest hours.
“I finished it,” I said, wistfully.
“Father?”
I liked that he called me that. “Power can turn in on itself, blinding one to reason.” I gave a smile, remembering. “When I met your mother, she was a dancer. She was so beautiful. You take after her.”
“How did the senator die?”
The door flew open.
Sunaria entered, carrying a bottle of wine. “Time for a toast.” She raised it high. “Tonight, we celebrate.”
Sunaria’s timing was perfect. She poured white wine into three cups resting on the chestnut sideboard.
Violin music struck up from somewhere in the house.
“We have a lifetime of catching up to do,” I said.
Jacob accepted the cup from Sunaria and nodded. “I remember you.”
“She’s impossible to forget.” I raised my drink. “To Jacob.”
Jacob lifted his cup high. “To my father. Our reunion.”
I feigned a sip, trying not to stare, nervous that my gaze would hold too long and he’d see more than I was ready to show him. Jacob gulped his drink and stared off, hypnotized by the beautiful notes. Sunaria and I swapped a wary glance.
“That’s beautiful,” he said. “Who’s playing?”
“Rachel,” Sunaria answered. “Both she and her brother live here.”
I gave Sunaria a knowing glance. “She’s come a long way with that instrument.”
Jacob’s cheeks blushed. “Is she as bewitching as her music?”
Chapter 51
I SAT OPPOSITE JACOB, the inlaid chess table with its elaborate border between us.
Even after a month, I still reveled in his company.
Jacob peered over the ivory carved pieces and then slid his bishop. I raised an eyebrow and he beamed at me. Staring down, considering my next move, I allowed myself to smile, but it wasn’t due to the fact that I was letting him win.
It had all been worth it—every second of scouring the city, sacrificing my needs for his, spending years watching and waiting for this moment when we’d be reunited. Jacob was perfect in every way. I savored being near him. He’d inherited my bone structure, but he also had his mother’s eyes, her dark olive skin. He exuded an exotic aura from his Middle Eastern descent and faint laughter lines gave away his penchant for smiling. He’d drawn on his faith to cope with all that he’d seen in his young life. The fact that I’d stopped aging at thirty could still be concealed, just.
Enjoying the game, wanting it to last, I searched for something less aggressive. Chess was not the only game being played here. My gestures were slow and deliberate, as I advanced a pawn.
I hadn’t found the right moment to show Jacob the private study I’d designed for him, anxious not to overwhelm him. More serious than that, the matter of my immortality was never discussed. I feared more than just losing the admiration of a son’s love. Our rekindled relationship breathed new life into Belshazzars, and this sprawling manor no longer seemed lonely. This once solitary house had become a home because of him.
Jacob positioned his knight, taking a pawn and threatening my bishop.
“Do you remember how to ride?” I said.
“I remember you forcing me to get on one of those huge horses. I was terrified.”
“You had the time of your life.”
“Is that what you call it?”
“You never complained.”
“Too scared to talk, no doubt.” He pulled a face.
“Your brother loved to ride.” As the words faded, I sucked in air. The pain of losing him had been unbearable, and until now I’d pushed out all thoughts of my child’s death. Jacob’s presence brought great joy, but also stirred memories that I’d once suppressed.
“Tell me about him.” Jacob gestured for me to continue.
“Eduardo? He was a headstrong boy.” I smiled and then it faded. “He died before you learned to walk.”
“Did we look alike?”
I nodded. “Do you remember running away?”
“I ran away?”
“Well, you ran out of your Aunt Alicia’s house and hid in the barn.”
“Why?”
“I can’t even remember now. I found you asleep in one of the stalls.”
“How long did you search for me?”
“Hours.” A wave of melancholy, the story of losing him had been repeated on a grander scale.
“I’m sorry I caused you so much grief,” Jacob said.
“You brought nothing but joy to us.” I paused and smiled. “Still do.”
Jacob’s eyes crinkled into a smile and he sat back. “You still haven’t introduced me to your house guests.”
“Marcus is looking forward to meeting you.”
Much to my relief, Marcus had seen the wisdom of keeping Rachel and Jacob apart. She’d been forbidden to play her violin.
“Tomorrow night, I have to visit an old acquaintance,” I said.
“May I come with you?”
“It’s rather a delicate matter.”