Fallen Eden (27 page)

“Lucky girl,” Sierra said, her eyes ping-ponging between the two Williams like mine were. “That’s a dilemma I wouldn’t mind finding myself lip deep in.”

“Why?” Patrick semi-hollered, lifting his hands to the sky. “Why is it every female in existence goes for you when you’ve only had it bad for one of them?” Patrick looked at me with playful exaggeration. “What a waste.”

“You’re not bad to look at either, sweetheart,” Sierra said, looking Patrick over. “But there are these key characteristics women look for in a man: humility, intelligence, passion, that whole I’d-go-to-the-ends-of-the-earth-for-the-woman-I-love thing. It’s a thing called romance. And from everything I’ve heard, you’re the anti-romantic.”

He crossed his arms. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to believe everything you hear?”

“I’ve heard that a time or two,” she said, playfulness in her eyes, or was it . . .
flirting
? “The thing is, rumors generally become so because they’re true.”

“That’s a messed-up view to have.”

“I know. That’s why I give the person the benefit of the doubt before I accept the rumor as the be-all-end-all.” She smiled at him, no disguise about the flirtation in it, and what was crazy was Patrick’s smile of reciprocation.

Here we were, death circling around us in some sweltering Central American jungle, and these two found it an appropriate time to bat lashes at each other. Dinosaurs had better survival instincts.

These two were perfect for each other.

I snapped my fingers. “Back to reality kids. Reality being thirty of John’s gorillas chomping at the bits to pull every last bit of life from us.”

The four light faces around me eclipsed into darkness. Debbie –Downer wasn’t generally my thing, but a girl’s got to do what she’s got to do to save her man.

“The Morpher’s here,”—I gestured at him—“morphed and ready to go. You two can stay here and pass notes if you want,”—I didn’t make the annoyance in my eyes slight—“but I’m getting you out of here.”

William was staring back at me, covering his mouth that I knew was turned up in amusement. “I’m getting
you
out of here,” he said, still looking amused by my tirade, before turning to Norberto. He embraced him and though it seemed there should be stranger things I’d seen, I couldn’t think of any as I watched William hugging . . .
himself.

“If you need anything, anything at all, you know where to find me.”

My William pulled back from imposter William as he said, “An honor, sir.”

Patrick threw his arms in the air, giving me a look that said,
can you believe this guy?
Before twisting Norberto away from William. “You know what to do, you’ve been trained by the best”—Patrick winked at him—“make me proud. Divert some Inheritor slugs.”

Norberto high-fived him like he’d just been given a pep-talk pregame as opposed to pre-death. “Ladies,” Norberto nodded at us, his legs popping from energy.

“Lead them away from here, as far as you can,” William said, likely feeling the weight of having to chose between the deaths of many Mortals to the death of one Immortal. It couldn’t have been an easy one, but he exuded grace under fire. “Then morph back as soon as you can. You know what they’ll do to you if they catch you?”

Norberto nodded once. “I grew up in a village near here. I take my calling of being a Guardian seriously. If it takes my life to save theirs, I’d consider my Immortality well spent.” With that, he jetted into the trees, nothing but the white-blue streak trailing into the night to remember him by.

I, like William, would be forever indebted to Norberto. There’d be few things I’d deny him if he ever asked me for a favor.

“You two go first,” Patrick instructed, kneeling beside me, coaxing me up with his shoulder. “Sierra will go with me.” He looked at her, challenging her to argue back, but there was nothing but agreement shining from her. “We’ll take the first plane out of here since I can bet neither one of you thought to bring any kind of identification.” His eyes pointed at us in a parental way.

William and I shifted.

“That’s what I thought. Good thing I’m the responsible one.” He looked back down at Sierra. “And since I’m all too aware that John requires all his people to carry the proper identification to be ready for anything, I’d wager your passport and ID are in your inside left coat pocket.” He fished for said pocket, Sierra’s eyes narrowing in direct relation to how long he fished. “Man, I’m good,” he said, waving several documents our way.

Realizing we were still there, he said, “Do you need me to do a countdown, maybe ready-set-go style?”

I felt the same confusion register in William as was me.

“Code word for,” Patrick said under his breath, “get the hell out of here.”

“What about you?” I asked, stepping forward. “You don’t have any time to waste trying to maneuver your way into this poor, unsuspecting girl’s better judgments.”

“Watch who you’re calling unsuspecting, sweetheart,” Sierra said, “or poor for that matter. I’ve got a reflector field so impenetrable to guys like him it would make your pretty little head spin.”

Patrick motioned at her like he was showing off his A+ science project. Reviewing William and my flat faces, he ceased the joking. “Don’t worry, we’ll be out of here soon. I want you guys to go first so we can be the ones they’re hot on if any get past Norberto. Besides, what’s the fun in being an Immortal if I can’t give myself a hit of death-induced adrenaline from time to time?” He grinned, his face alive. “Hurry on home. We’ll be waiting.”

“Don’t wait up,” William said, his voice spilling implications. “It might take us awhile.”

“I really enjoyed the time off I had from gagging around you two love-birds,” Patrick said, cringing. “Oh well, as they say, all good things must come to an end.” He looked at me. “Take care of him.”

“That’s all I’ve ever tried to do,” I replied, looking down.

“Yeah, but you’ve done a sucky job of it. Stop being such a martyr. Grab your man and ride off into the sunset.”

“I will,” I vowed, perhaps the most solemn one I would make.

“Welcome back, sister,” he said. “I missed you.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I missed you, too.” My smile turned stern and I was back in the present moment. “Don’t wait any longer than a minute,” I told him. “I’m serious, Patrick.”

A salute was all I got before I was thrown against William’s chest via his arms that had lifted me into them. “He’ll be fine. This is like the kiddie pool in comparison to the deep water Patrick’s been in over the years.”

“Hopefully I didn’t forget my floaties back home,” Patrick’s voice dimmed as we darted through the jungle.

I’d experienced William’s speed before, if speed was the right word to use. Mach 3 seemed the better description given the way we were jetting forward, the jungle blurring into a dark green tunnel. It had me wondering if William’s odometer topped out at a maximum speed limit. I felt another burst of speed ignite in him, as if proving limits weren’t something that pertained to him.

It seemed silly he was carrying me when I was plenty capable of holding my own tramping through the Nicaraguan jungle, but the thought of separating myself from him, if only by a few feet, seemed like an impossibility.

“I don’t think so,” he said, pointing his eyes at where my teeth were victimizing my lower lip. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Fine by me,” I said, amazed. We’d always been able to feel each others emotions, like some sixth sense inside me could register what was going through him, but it appeared his had sharpened to the point of reading my mind . . . with crazy good accuracy. Super. Just what I needed.

“In fact . . .” He skidded to a stop, lowering me to the ground, pressing me into the nearest tree. “This is better,” he whispered. “You’re not going anywhere from here . . . for awhile.” My heart didn’t have a chance to react before his mouth covered mine. He kissed me, hard and deep, crushing his body into mine.

I was sandwiched between the banyan tree and William’s body, positively squished with no air to breath, yet I couldn’t pull him tighter to me. My hands roamed his back, welcoming him closer, wondering if our bodies could fuse into one. A few notes of splintering sounded behind me, reminding me that the object holding us up behind me was not Immortal strength. Something else floated to mind . . .

“Are you serious?” I breathed, giving a weak effort at shoving him away. “What are you thinking?” I scanned the area surrounding us, trying to calm the flames he could turn into a wildfire in about two seconds.

“That was kind of the point,” he said, his breathing accelerated. “I didn’t want to think. I just wanted to kiss you.”

I sidestepped him, backing up a few yards, knowing from experience distance from him and my rationality were in direct relation. “I appreciate the effort. I
really
appreciate it,” I said, my lips still warm from his. “But I can’t really imagine a worse time to take a hiatus from thinking.”

He stayed silent, looking like he was consumed with trying to calm his breathing, so I continued “Let me restart your memory. We’ve got a pack of John’s soldiers on our trail.” His face didn’t change, looking like he needed another jumpstart. “Sent here to kill you.”

He shrugged, like John’s men were chasing him with nothing more deadly than paint-ball guns. I felt a bit of my anger switch to him. There was no way I could protect him if he took such brash risks with his life. “All I care about is that you were gone an hour ago and now you’re back in my life. I want to be with you, making up for lost time, not dodging a bunch of Inheritors in the jungle. Let’s face it, Bryn, there will always be something or someone chasing us; we can’t live our lives running a never-ending marathon.” His eyes held mine, coming for me. “Besides, you’ve got a lot of making up to do.”

I swallowed, my throat going dry. I back-stepped, matching every one he took towards me. “I’ll make you a promise,” I said, taking another survey of the surrounding area. “Once we make it to the Colorado border, we can take a break . . . where we can do a little making up for lost time.”

“Colorado?” he said, a note short of a holler. “That’s a good day away. No deal.” His head shook. “Mexico. And I’ll take more than just a
little
making up for lost time.”

It was my head’s turn to shake. “I want more than just a thousand miles of distance between us and this place before we let our guards down.”

“Just how much distance are we talking about?” he asked, wetting his lips, making no qualms about tempting me back to him—as attractive and luring as a venus fly-trap.

“I’ll take three countries and two states,” I answered, crossing my arms.

“Not a chance,” he answered, crossing his arms as well, although I’m sure it was another attempt at tempting me towards him since his arms were bursting through the cuffs of his shirt. “Texas.” I opened my mouth to object. “And that’s my final offer. Take it or leave it.”

We’d wasted enough time arguing. Whatever distance we’d covered from William’s rip-roaring speed could have been closed by John’s men if Norberto and Patrick’s plan hadn’t worked. “Deal,” I sighed. “Since I don’t really have any other choice.”

“Nope, you don’t,” he said, his face victorious. “And now you don’t only owe me for the two months apart, you owe me for the next twelve hours or so—that will be teeth-clenching torturous at best—until we make it to Texas.”

“That’s a lot of debt to pay off,” I said, letting my mind wander a bit too far. That tingling sensation I’d managed to stifle returned.

“An overwhelming amount,” he said, his voice low.

“Good thing for you I pay all my debts back promptly and with an exorbitant amount of interest attached.”

“Well, I’m keeping track of every last you-know-what you owe me.” His eyebrows peaked.

I grinned. “Come on, Scrooge,” I said, ready to launch forward, never imagining I would have looked forward to crossing the Texas border so much. “Try to keep up.”

PROMISE

So we didn’t quite make it to the Texas border. We found ourselves tangled up before the Guatemalan dirt had flung itself off our shoes as soon as we crossed the border into Mexico.
Tangled
again in Texas, even more so in Colorado, and by the time we crossed into Montana, I was surprised the surface of my skin wasn’t rubbed raw or that my lips didn’t look liked they’d been stung by a swarm of killer bees.

“How’s my payback plan looking now?” I asked, as we lumbered up the steps of Charles’ home.

He scratched his head. “Well, you made enough of a payment to keep you out of default, but I’m afraid I’m going to need significantly more if you want to keep your account in good standing.”

“Something tells me I’m going to be paying this debt off until the end of time.” I laughed, not minding if that was what he had in mind.

“I think you might be right,” he said, shoving open the front door.

Leading me through the front door of his father’s home with his hand on my back, déjà vu made its appearance. It hadn’t been all that long ago when we’d climbed these steps following an event that nearly claimed both our lives. William’s face was set with resolution and I was nearly breaking out in hives just thinking about encountering another awkward Charles, William, Bryn triangle. The previous ones had gone so well . . .

“The prodigal returns,” a voice emitted from the kitchen before Patrick came around the corner, a salad bowl overflowing with Fruity Pebbles in hand. I let out one of those gut-deep sighs, relieved to see Patrick had made it back in one piece, and his ability to irritate just as spot-on as ever. I felt William’s relief flooding him at the same time. “You two love birds kept us waiting long enough,” he mumbled, crunching through the cereal before shoveling another heaping spoonful in his mouth.

“Sorry, we were delayed.” I bit the corner of my lips, sneaking a glance at the man on my left. He was a shade shy of crimson.

“Now that’s my kind of hold-up,” Patrick replied, doing jumping-jacks with his brows.

William cleared his throat. “Where’s father?”

Patrick held up his index finger, speed-eating through the rest of his cereal, finishing it off by tilting the bowl to his lips and slurping the milk.

“I swear they must put crack in Fruity Pebbles,” he mused, slamming his bowl down on the table, a trail of milk dribbling down his chin. “He’s in his study,” he said finally, glancing up the stairs behind us.

“You came from a time when manners were highly regarded, right?” I asked, motioning at my chin, hoping he’d catch the hint.

If he caught the hint, he didn’t do anything about it. “I like to think of myself as a man for the current times.”

“You are that,” I said, the smile fresh on my lips vanishing as William pulled me up the stairs. Even at Patrick’s and my worst, I’d take a battle of tongue-thrashing with him any day over a meeting with Charles.

I fidgeted with my clothes and my hair, smoothing and twisting.

“Will you stop?” William said softly. “You have nothing to prove.”

“Yeah,” I said, all sarcasm, “it’s not like I practically killed his son—not once, but twice—then ditched him for someone else who ended up becoming an Immortal against the Council’s wishes. I don’t know why I’d have anything to prove.”

William rolled his eyes at me, shoving open the door to his father’s study. He didn’t even knock, which would have given me a chance to compose my face.

“Welcome back, son,” Charles said, not appearing surprised, or phased, by the sudden barrage. “I’m glad to see you’re alright.” He looked up from his laptop and the stack of files piled in front of him, waiting.

“I need to speak with you. Right now.” William approached the front of his desk, me in tow.

“As you can see, now is not a good time.” Charles turned his attention back at the laptop. “From everything that’s going on, you’d think we were on the verge of an Immortal apocalypse.”

William slammed his hands down on the desk, thunder erupted through the house. “I am a member of your Alliance, as well as your son. That’s earned me two minutes of your undivided time,” he said, his jaw locked.

Again, the stone flat expression, but Charles leaned back in his swivel chair, extending his arms at William. “I’m listening.”

“I have a request I’d like put before the Council.”

Charles stifled something that could have been a smile. “Something tells me I’ve heard this request before.”

“You have, but not in this many words,” William said, looking purposeful about towering over his father. “You and the Council—
all
the Guardian Councils—believe I’m the chosen one. You want me to do this, you want me to claim my supposed higher-calling . . .”—his eyes gripped me, the kind of warmth in them a girl could lose herself in—“Bryn becomes a member of this family.”

Charles sighed, looking between the two of us like we were as dangerous as a crystallized crate of dynamite. “I was wondering how long it would take you to figure that out,” Charles said, sliding his hands down the arms of his chair. “I don’t think there’s a single thing you could ask for that the Council would deny you in exchange for your cooperation.”

“I still have my doubts, but since you’re all so certain I’m the one, I’ll fulfill whatever calling the Council comes up with if it means being with Bryn.”

He looked between the two of us, studying us like we were a chess game and he was making out his next move. When the continued silence threatened to break out my fidgeting, Charles leaned back in his chair, staring absently through the window. “I’ll present your proposal to them first thing tomorrow morning. We’ll vote on it for formality’s sake, but you can consider Bryn as good as Betrothed.”

I blinked, making sure I wasn’t dreaming.

“However, I want your word”—his eyes commanded William—“that you’ll do what’s required of you if she becomes a member of this family.”

William didn’t let a moment of silence pass before answering, “You have my word.”

“It’s settled then,” Charles said, returning his attention to his laptop. “It appears we have a Betrothal Ball to plan.” I didn’t miss the humor in his tone or the smile that broke.

“Let’s hope it’s less eventful than the last one Bryn and I attended,” William replied, exchanging a look with me before pulling me away from his father’s desk.

“William,” Charles called out abruptly. I cringed, sure he was calling us back to yell something along the lines of
April Fool’s!
“Could you send your brother in? I have something important to discuss with him.”

“You got it,” William said, not breaking stride as we left the office. At the end of the hallway, he stopped abruptly, lifting me up at the same time my back made contact with the wall. “You’re mine,” he whispered, placing a kiss over my mouth that was soft and sweet.

“I always have been,” I said, my legs tightening around his waist, completely unconcerned that Charles was a few rooms away.

William beamed, his eyes soft. “But it’s official now.”

“What does that change?” I asked, knowing it changed everything and nothing, depending on how he was looking at it.

“My right to punch a guy in the face for imagining you naked,” his smile turned mischievous as he planted another kiss on my mouth before twisting around to the staircase. My legs still around him, he slid down the handrail, his face alight with exhilaration. We flew off the banister, nearly ramming into the front door. William twisted the handle open, hollering over at Patrick, still at the kitchen table upending another box of cereal. “Hey, little brother. Guess who wants to see you upstairs?”

“Oh, goodie,” Patrick said, crunching through his cereal. “He’s been trying to corner me for the past month. Wanting to discuss my future,” he said, curling his nose. “He seems to think I’ve been sowing my wild oats for a century too long and its time for the untamable man to be tamed.” He shoved the chair back, fastening the top button of his dress shirt. “Immortal hearts are going to be breaking around the world soon. It would be a good time to invest in Kleenex stock.”

“You might want to tell your broker to put your order in sooner rather than later,” William said, pressing me back to him. “I have it on good authority”—his eyes trailed up the stairs—“that a Betrothal Ball is forthcoming.”

Despite knowing it would be an event where I would be promised an eternity with the man I loved, my stomach dropped at the mention of it.

“I’d offer you my congratulations, but Bryn’s looking like she caught a bad case of cold feet,” Patrick said, looking me over. “Having second thoughts about being tied for-ev-er to my big brother?”

“No,” I said, warning him with my eyes. “It’s just my prior experience with Betrothal Ball’s has tainted my impressions of future ones.”

Patrick tilted his head back, laughing silently. “I didn’t think anyone could worry more than William, but low and behold, I’ve found a challenger.” He strolled towards us, clasping his hands over my shoulder. “Relax, Bryn. Everything’s going to be smooth sailing from here on out.” He looked up, exchanging a look with William.

“Unlikely,” I said under my breath as he patted my cheek.

“What’s up with Sierra?” William asked, guessing or knowing I needed a conversation intervention.

“What’s up yourself, handsome?” Sierra called out, sauntering out from the hallway. Her eyes circumnavigated William like she was Columbus and she’d just discovered America.

I cleared my throat, turning to Patrick. “Are you holding her prisoner until she concedes, or if necessary, is brainwashed into thinking you’re the pinnacle of the male species?”

Sierra cleared her throat, mimicking the undertone of irritation in mine. “Do I look like the kind of woman he, or anyone for that matter, could hold prisoner?” She didn’t wait for my answer. “I’ve decided to stay.”

“I made a convert out of her,” Patrick said, glancing over at her.

Sierra met his gaze. “It had very little to do with you and mainly to do with that slimy, skuzzy John Townsend and his bunch of Inheritor radicals set on destruction and world dominion.”

“Yeah, but a little had to do with me,” he pressed, certainty in his voice.

She rolled her eyes, a response as essential as breathing when in Patrick’s presence, although she’d picked up on it faster than most. “A little.”

Patrick elbowed William. “I’m growing on her.”

“Like a noxious weed,” Sierra muttered, weaving through the living room towards the kitchen.

Patrick’s eyes followed her the whole way, his neck craning as she disappeared from sight. I had to snap my fingers to bring him back from whatever daydream he’d lost himself in.

“Look at it this way, Bryn” he said, back in the moment, turning to head up the stairs towards his father’s study, although I didn’t miss the look he gave them—like they were insurmountable. “What’s the worse that could happen? You end up Betrothed to me?” he said, wagging his brows back at us. “Could you handle all this?” he taunted, grinding up against the banister. “I’ve had two centuries to perfect my moves. You’ve got a lot of catching up to do if you want to keep up with me.”

“That is revolting,” I said, shuddering with exaggeration.

William pulled me out the door, shaking from his stifled laughter. “We’ll leave you two alone,” he hollered up to Patrick, whose hands were running over the handrail a bit too graphically.

“Think about it, Bryn,” Patrick yelled after us. “There’s more than one brother that leads down the road to becoming a Hayward.”

His voice was on the opposite spectrum of serious, but it was the words that stopped me in my tracks. So much so I think William might have experienced a bit of whiplash. I wasn’t sure if he’d caught Charles’ vagueness when it came to promising William he’d make me a member of this family, but I hadn’t. Especially now with Patrick inadvertently slapping it in my face.

Could Charles’ vagueness have been intentional, a calculated attempt at luring his son into agreeing to his higher calling? I didn’t want to believe it, but I couldn’t say I didn’t completely. Charles had conceded quickly, as if we hadn’t been battling him and the Council for months with not even so much as a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel.

“Everything alright?” William whispered. I looked over at him, finding no doubt or concern or anxiety in his eyes. There was nothing but exhilaration coming from him.  He didn’t suspect anything, he’s not fretting over the technicality that Charles had not, in so many words, said I’d become a member of this family via William . . . not Patrick.

It was William’s reassurance that gave me a dose of my own. He knew his father better than I did. He trusted him. I would, too. Besides, I was known for being a little paranoid from time to time. Our happy ending was coming and nothing or no one—Patrick included—would interfere with it.

“Never been better,” I replied, not having to fake the smile that came.

“Let’s get out of here, then,” he said. “Like, now.”

“Where are you two kids off to?” Patrick asked, at last ceasing his male stripper-esque  moves since he’d lost his audience at hip thrust number two.