Authors: Emma Weylin
She sat up and wiped at her eyes before sticking the key into the ignition. No matter what she did there was no way to undo it. The tears started again as she pulled her keys back out of the ignition. No, she needed to know exactly what Shawn did to Vincent’s death in his book. If he did anything that made what Vincent went through less or not as important, she’d find some way to make the bastard pay. It wouldn’t ever make up for what she’d done to her first, and probably only real love. She could at least make sure his memory wasn’t tarnished. She dragged herself out of her car and willed herself to move back across the parking lot. She got the book, went through the checkout, and got back to her car in a record-breaking ten minutes. There, now she could go home, cry herself to sleep, and then go do what she always did on his birthday.
She almost got her wish, too, but Peggy, the elderly woman from across the hall from her apartment, rushed out of her door the second Bryna opened hers. “Wait, I have a message for you.” She held a toy poodle in her arms and massaged the dog’s ears. Pookie lifted his lips at Bryna in a snarl, but didn’t growl. See? Even animals didn’t like her because they could detect a black heart when they saw one. No matter how good a person tried to be, animals could always see the truth underneath.
She shook her head and tried to refocus her attention. Strange men trying to make her go with them and now an even stranger message? She never got messages from anyone. This was peanut-butter-and-pickles not good. She offered Peggy the best smile she could manage. “Oh? What kind of message?”
Concern washed over the older woman’s face. “Oh, dear, there was a man looking for you today. I tried to call the police, but they said they couldn’t do anything because he hadn’t done anything threatening—but he did, I tell you! Just his existence was threatening.”
“I’m sorry he scared you,” Bryna said as patiently as she could. “What message did he leave?”
Her features went disapproving. “You know, dear, you really do need to date a different caliber of man.”
Bryna wholeheartedly agreed; only she couldn’t seem to make herself pick out a decent man to save her life. She suppressed the urge to snort at herself. There had been one…She shook her head. “We weren’t talking about my choices in men.”
“We should be,” Peggy declared. “I didn’t think you were into the hit-man type.”
She could feel the rise in her blood pressure. “Peggy, what did he say?”
“He said your boyfriend’s back, and there is going to be trouble.” Her faded brown eyes nailed Bryna in place. “I am telling you that whoever this man is, you should not let him into your home—and call the police immediately. I will not feel sorry for you if he beats you after I’ve warned you.”
Bryna was only half-listening to Peggy as she tried to figure this one out. She had to admit her choices of men since Vincent died had been specifically picked during a self-destructive phase. The only one after that had been two years ago, which was Shawn, and he wasn’t stupid enough to threaten her like that. He knew her secrets. She shoved down the guilt of never having told them to Vincent while he’d been alive. “I don’t have a boyfriend, Peggy. What did he look like?”
“A monster!” Peggy declared and shook a fist at her. “He was at least seven feet tall and built like one of those TV wrestlers. He had weapons on him. A sword and knives, Bryna! He wore all black and his eyes glowed.” Then she shuddered. “A hideous scar slashed across his face. He’s dangerous, I tell you. Pookie didn’t like him one bit.” She rubbed behind the dog’s ears and brought him up close to her face. “It’s okay, darling, mama will protect you from the big scary man.” She glared at Bryna. “He said he’d be by in the morning to pick you up.”
“Thank you,” she said in wobbling tones. Suddenly Draven the vampire didn’t seem like such a bad thing. What was being drained of blood to whatever it was Wraith could do to her? Yeah, she was pretty sure she should have taken the vampire’s warning. Though she wasn’t ready to die yet. She blew out a breath and thought for a moment. Would any kind of plan she could come up with this time keep her alive? Did she even care? Her shoulders slumped.
She left Peggy babbling in the hall.
No matter how wrong it sounded in her head, she needed to get the hell out of town. Her self-preservation instincts were good. Even when she knew her right to live had died with Vincent. She closed the door and leaned against it for a few moments before she went through her sparse apartment gathering up clothes and anything she’d need. She briefly wondered if she should call the restaurant she waitressed in and let them know she was quitting, and snagged the phone. She didn’t want anyone knowing there was a huge possibility she wasn’t going to make it to the end of tomorrow alive. They’d only get hurt.
After leaving a message that she quit, and then throwing all the valuables she had into her backpack, she hitched it up over her shoulder and left. She’d stop at an ATM to clean out her bank accounts. The creatures of the night were no longer scary; if they got her, it was no less than what she deserved. If they didn’t, Vincent was about to get justice. She got back out to her car and went directly to the one place she had no right to be. The one place she always felt safe.
Vincent’s grave.
She didn’t know how many times she’d ended up there over the last ten years. Usually when she’d messed up her life to the point she shouldn’t have been able to be pulled out of the tailspin. Now, it just seemed wholly pathetic and narcissistic. But she was here anyway. Cemeteries were sacred ground. A vampire couldn’t come there, despite what fiction said. While she didn’t know if the Wraith could come into a cemetery, she was more willing to take her chances with him. After all, the Wraith made his name killing vampires.
With a flashlight, a blanket, and her backpack, she got out of the car and carefully walked the memorized path to Vincent. She wiped at the tears dripping down her cheeks when she got to it. She laid her blanket next to the large headstone.
Her hand ran along the smooth, cold granite. Her fingers traced along the words engraved in to the stone.
Vincent Asher. Beloved Hero.
Then over the date of his birth and the date of his death. She looked at her watch and then sat next to the headstone. It was after midnight. “Happy birthday,” she whispered.
It didn’t matter now. Once, long ago, she promised him one person would always remember his birthday while she was alive. She still lived. Bryna wiped at the tears leaking down her face. “I’m in trouble,” she said. “Yeah, I know, I always say that.” She tried to smile, but failed. “I didn’t know where else to go. I hope you don’t mind me staying here with you tonight.”
She bowed her head. They’d been so young, and he’d been the answer to every prayer she’d ever had. Their relationship had been frowned upon, but at the time, she hadn’t been able to see the danger in it, and she still didn’t. Vincent had been on his own since the age of sixteen because of his parent’s deaths. She hadn’t meant him until a year later when he’d been the tender age of seventeen, and she’d been only fifteen. Her father died in a work accident, and her mother’s mental breakdown afterward left it impossible for her to deal with a troubled teenager. She’d been sent to live with her Uncle Ron and his wife, Aunt Jeni. She envied the sweet disposition of Cinderella’s stepmother compared to her aunt, even though Aunt Jeni could have moments of pure compassion.
That first day of school had been filled with one trauma after another—that was, until she made it to lunch and saw the hottest guy sitting all alone. She introduced herself. If she’d known then what she knew now, she’d never have done it.
Her hand stroked down the face of the headstone. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to screw up your life. If it hadn’t been for me, you’d have made it to law school. You’d probably have a nice wife with some kids. Hell, you’d be alive.” Her voice shook and the tears flowed. “I know. You probably hate me and wish I’d stop bothering you. It looks like you’re going to get your wish. This is probably the last birthday I’ll get to visit you. I’d have gotten flowers, but the florist isn’t open this late at night.”
She was babbling, she knew, but she’d always hated silence. It gave her too much time to think, and gave too many opportunities for her to remember things she didn’t want to remember. “Anyway, I got that book Shawn wrote like I promised I would.” She pulled it out of her backpack and turned on her flashlight and started to skim through the pages. “That son of a whore. He turned you into one of the vampires. And look, I’m all sweet and innocent.” Her face crumpled. Shawn hadn’t gotten the second part wrong. She had been sweet and innocent. It had been one of the things Vincent loved about her. Everything was all wrong now. There wasn’t any way she could get that part of herself back. It was forever gone. She should be the one in the grave. And if she’d loved him the way she’d believed she did back then, maybe—no—he
would
still be alive.
“You know,” she whispered as she closed the book. “Maybe I should go back. I don’t know what the vampire was planning on doing with me, but if he wanted to protect me from this Wraith character, then whatever he’s going to do to me is probably what I deserve.”
“You’re probably right,” said a deep masculine voice in bitter tones.
Bryna began to tremble as she stood up and moved her flashlight around trying to find out where the man was. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Are you sure? I’m the only one here.” The voice came from the right.
Bryna swiveled in that direction, slowly moving her light over the gravestones. “I don’t make it a habit to tell strangers my dark secrets.”
“And yet you chatter at the headstone of a man you murdered, where anyone can hear you.”
Her blood chilled. This wasn’t good. She should be running, but she couldn’t get her feet to move. “You’re the Wraith the vampire warned me about?”
His laugh was harsh and maniacal sounding. “What if I am?”
Her body wound tight, ready to run, but she forced herself to stay. She sniffled and wiped away the tears running down her face. “I don’t know how this works. Do you torture me before you kill me, or do you just kill me?”
There was a long silence. His tone was angry when he spoke again. “I am not allowed to kill humans.”
The sound of his voice sent a shudder through her. “But you would if you were allowed?”
The question hung there so long she wondered if the man had left. She was about to sit back down when she saw movement in the direction his voice had come from. She moved her flashlight, but all she got was a dark, cloaked figure standing next to one of the headstones. It gave the man a grim-reaper effect and had her trembling. He started to walk slowly toward her. “I am not allowed to kill humans,” he said again.
“Okay.” Her voice shook, and she had no idea if she should be worried that he could hear her fear or not. This was it. She could run, and save her life, or she could stay and give Vincent the justice he deserved. “Then what do you want with me?”
“Unfortunately, I have to keep you alive for the next week.” His tone was thoroughly disgusted.
“After that?” No! This wasn’t right. He should not be here to save her.
The figured shrugged. “You’re free to die in whatever way you wish.”
“Why do you have to keep me alive?” This was the strangest conversation she’d ever had. It wasn’t making any sense in her head why supernatural powers would want to keep her alive.
“I think you can answer that one.” He came closer, but she still couldn’t see his face.
She stared at the dark figure with a sword showing from the hem of his cloak. He advanced on her. Of course he’d want to keep her alive for the exact reason Vincent got killed. Still, that didn’t automatically make whoever this being was evil. She’d at least hear him out and make a decision when she was feeling more stable. Right now, there could be an earthquake under her feet and she wouldn’t notice with all the chaos spinning in her head. She leveled her gaze on the faint golden glow inside the man’s hood. “Because I’m a freak?”
*
Vincent—the Wraith—flinched back. There were a lot of things he hadn’t expected after seeing her again after two hundred years, or, ten in her time line, but the stark desperation in her once beautiful voice sent ice into his veins. He didn’t like it. There was no reason for him to feel any kind of sympathy for her. His directive was to keep her alive. No matter how much he’d wanted to confront her over the years, he wanted to protect her less from whatever death she thought she deserved. So then why did he feel the tugs of long dead and buried emotions struggling to the surface? He shouldn’t feel anything for her. He didn’t want to feel anything for her. She was a job. Nothing more. His gaze locked onto the most amazing green eyes he’d ever witnessed to this day. Damn it. The week would not pass as quickly as he would like. He forced harshness into his voice, “Do you always babble at the grave sites of men you’ve murdered?”
She wrapped her arms around herself and took a step back. Her head bowed. “I have nowhere else to go and he…I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t be here.” She stooped down and gathered up her belongings and then ran.
He stood there and watched her run away from him. It seemed that no matter how much time had passed, she still affected his thinking and his body. Damn that woman. She should be the one standing here. If he’d have known how things were going to turn out…Ah, hell, he’d still have talked to her that first day when she’d been the only one brave enough to come to his lunch table alone.
He snarled at himself and his own stupidity before he went after her. There were vampires all over the woods surrounding the churchyard. The parking lot wasn’t sacred ground. They’d make short work of a tiny thing like Bryna. As much as he hated to admit it, watching her die wasn’t on the top of his to-do list. He still didn’t know exactly what he was supposed to do here, aside from keeping her alive. Felix hadn’t been forthcoming with information. He’d cryptically told him he had to talk to Bryna about it. Now he knew. She was a freak. Great. That explained everything quite nicely. He moved out in front of her just as she made it to the gate and blocked her path.