Authors: Nicole Williams
I looked down and felt myself fumbling for words. “Yeah, but this time they said—”
“They said no,” he answered.
“But they might say yes the next time,” I fired back, not ready for this battle because I knew he was right. We’d never be granted a Betrothal and I’d promised him I would give up and leave with him if the conventional means failed. The thing was, I hadn’t anticipated the conventional means to fail us so quickly.
“They said no, my love,” he whispered, his eyes filled with apologies. “I’ve made my choice and you know what that is. Now you must make yours.”
My throat tightened to the point my rebuttal couldn’t make its way to the surface. I would have far preferred the tongue-tie effect brought on by a different activity.
“When I meet with the Council in the morning for my mission orders, I will speak with them one last time regarding us, but I’d like your promise that if they deny us once more . . . you can let me know what your choice is.”
Words were still impossible, so I just nodded my head when I wanted to be shaking it. I wasn’t ready for this crossroads, but either way, I had to be prepared to tell William tomorrow if I was ready to run away with him for the rest of our eternities.
“Then let’s not speak another word tonight,” he whispered, winking at me while pulling me down onto the bed on the first and last night of our reunion.
I felt warmth and a male presence, but neither was being emitted from the one who should have been beside me at this unholy hour in my bed while I was a quarter of a yard of lycra away from being naked.
“So how is it?”
“How’s what?” I grumbled, blinking my eyes open.
“Waking up to the sight of the man you’re secretly in love with.”
I tossed a pillow at his face. “Anyone ever mention you’re a bit full of yourself, Patrick?” I asked, adjusting the mess of hair off my face. “Don’t you ever knock?”
“Not when my student is fifteen minutes late for her morning training,” he said, eyeing my training attire that had ended up in a pile in the corner. The swimsuit, to my dismay, had stayed on.
“And I thought I told you yesterday there would be no training when William was home,” I said in my no-nonsense tone, although all it did was invoke an eye-roll from him.
“In case love has blinded you,”—he scanned the room with exaggeration—“William is currently not home, but is in front of the Council as we speak making yet another plea to be granted permission to marry the girl of his dreams, while I’m stuck here trying to train her.” He retrieved my clothes from the floor and chucked them at me. “Both rather impossible endeavors if you ask me.”
I pulled at the pants that had landed on my head and tossed them aside. Despite the smile he’d said it with, Patrick’s comment struck a nerve. “It is impossible, isn’t it?” I whispered, verbalizing what I’d known all along. “There really isn’t a hope in the world we’ll ever be allowed to be together.” I covered my eyes before he could see the tears forming.
With a rush of air, he was beside me, tugging my hands from my face. “I’m an idiot, the insufferable, malignant kind. I’m sorry.” He lowered his head to look into my eyes. “There’s always hope as long as you keep fighting. Never forget that, Bryn.”
The distant clap of thunder rumbled through the room, foretelling of a summer storm approaching. “When it comes to a fight, there isn’t anyone I’d rather have in my corner than William.” Patrick’s voice boomed above the echo of thunder. “He’ll never give up. Don’t you give up.”
I paused before responding, not able to stop the barrage of my deepest fears coming to mind. “What if one day he wakes up and decides he’s tired of fighting and that I’m not really worth it in the end? Maybe he’d rather live in peace with another woman than with me in a constant state of chaos.”
Patrick leaned away from me. “I really can’t believe you’re saying that. It makes me sick to my stomach.” He burst up from the bed and walked to the opposite side of the room, as if putting as much distance between me as possible. “How could you even let that enter your comprehension when my brother was on some fool’s mission for two hundred years looking for some woman from his dreams? How can you sit here and doubt, even in the slightest, his devotion to you?”
“I don’t doubt him,”—he raised his eyebrows, so I continued—“but sometimes it’s hard to understand why he fights so hard,” I explained, lowering my eyes. “For someone like me.”
“For someone like you,” he repeated, before chuckling. “I think you’re the one with delusions if you can’t understand why my brother would go to the ends of the world for you or why you’ve caught the eye of more than one love-struck lad in our Alliance.”
I sighed, glad that Patrick’s outburst had been extinguished as quickly as it’d burst to life. “Enlighten me.”
He shrugged, wandering back to the side of the bed. “You’re special.”
“I’m special?” I repeated, not buying it.
“More than you know.” A hint of pink spotted his cheeks. “Just don’t forget—as long as you both keep fighting, there’s hope.”
I nudged him. “You’re a lot smarter than you look.”
His hand curled around an imaginary dagger, pulling it from his heart with as much theatricality as a Shakespearean actor. “If I didn’t know you were head-over-heels mad for my brother, I’d think all the teasing and cold shoulder turning I get from you stems from a secret crush you have on me.”
I could have choked, but decided to play the overdramatic role with him. “That’s it! You’ve uncovered the truth at last. Why would I want William when I can have you?” I made it a point of looking him up and down, trying to look unimpressed, but everything about Patrick’s finely tuned exterior made my work of looking disgusted a failed attempt. “Nice work, Sherlock.”
His smile didn’t falter, but something in his eyes did. “See. That’s just it. You’re an open book. You don’t hide your feelings, which is admirable, but it’s obvious to everyone what your weak spot is. And when people know your weak spot, especially your enemies, they can use it against you.”
I didn’t need to ask him what weak spot he was referring to. I only had one and it hung like a target with flashing strobes over my heart. “Sorry, that was mean. You’re going to make someone very happy one day,” I offered, not able to comment on the topic he’d slapped in my face. “It’s just there’s never been anyone but William. I’ve never looked at you, or anyone for that matter, in that way.”
He waved my apology away. “Let’s just say, for argument’s sake, that I was the last male on earth and you were the last female—”
“Not a chance,” I interrupted, trying not to cringe from the image of Patrick and me wrapped around each other in whatever post-apocalyptic world he’d drummed up in his twisted imagination.
“If your life depended on it?” he pressed.
“Not even close.” I did an internal humming in an attempt to drown out the images flying through it.
“My life depended on it?” His face hung in the balance, waiting to form around my answer.
“Sorry, Charlie. Besides you’ve lived a long, full life.”
His eyes narrowed for an instant, before they widened to their capacity. “
His
life depended on it?”
He had me and he knew it. I glared my response.
“You’ve got a weak spot the size of Rhode Island,” he said, grinning from his victory.
“Since you’re the expert on the matter, what’s yours?”
He paused, caught off guard, but Patrick could recover himself with such skill it was an art-form. “If I told you, you could use it against me.”
“Does anyone know?”
He shook his head.
“Not even William?” I found this hard to believe. These two shared everything . . . except girlfriends and underwear. Hopefully.
“
Especially
not William,” he emphasized, looking like he was shuddering from the thought of it.
“But—”
“You’ve got five minutes,” he said suddenly, interrupting my oncoming assault of pulling it out of him. “Get dressed and I’ll see you out there.”
“Fifteen minutes,” I bargained, throwing the covers off.
“Ten,” he said. “And that’s my final offer.”
“I’ll take it,” I said as he stepped out the door.
I grabbed my linen training pants to slide them on, but given my mind was focused on everything but the task at hand, my foot caught the inseam and tore a six inch hole through the left leg. Lovely. I could already tell this day of training was not going to bode well for me.
“You need to focus,” Patrick commanded, extending his hand to me.
“Would if I could,” I snapped, letting him pull me up. “Do you think I’m enjoying getting my pride handed to me on a silver platter?”
“That’s the third tree you’ve shattered in the past hour when my kicks have gone un-deflected.” He brushed away the dirt on my shoulders, looking me up and down for damage. “William’s gonna kick my butt when he finds out about the beating you took today.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said, rolling the top of the Blue Spruce over to the pile where the remains of the other two rested. “Although I might blame you if your dad discovers the mess I’ve made in his training arena.” I lifted the shredded log and heaved it onto the pile.
I referred to the circular clearing on the far north corner of the Hayward’s land as a training arena, although I used the term “arena” loosely. Apart from the two Immortals that exchanged spars and kicks that reverberated off the surrounding mountains, the arena was nothing more than compacted soil surrounded by a circle of trees as packed-in as spectators at a boxing match at the MGM.
“Come on, Bryn. Enough trying to lighten whatever’s going on.” Patrick had snuck up from behind and spun me around. “I’ve never seen you miss a kick—let alone three in a row. What’s going on up there?” he asked, tapping my head.
“Nothing.” I bit my lip, stalling. “Everything. Take your pick.”
“I can’t be as easily appeased as my brother who becomes bewitched by your every word. Explain, please.”
I shook my head. “Sometimes this whole thing I’m putting myself through seems like a waste. The training, studying, making like a good little Immortal—what’s it all for when the Council will never grant William and me a Betrothal?”
“You’re missing the whole point,” Patrick said. My forehead creased, wondering what the “whole point” was. “You’re not doing all of this for them, you’re doing this for him.”
“I have no idea what you mean. Like usual,” I added. “Explain.”
“Let’s put you following the ancient tradition of our Alliance’s training program aside,”—he eyed me as if this should have been obvious,
glaringly
obvious—“let’s reverse you and William’s roles several months ago and what if you were the only person standing between him and John Townsend?” He tapped my temple. “See any real-life benefit to all this training now?”
I exhaled, knowing he was right, and there were few things I hated more than Patrick being right. I’d been so focused on every other reason I was being forced to go through the training, I’d missed the critical reason I needed to learn it: to protect him. Hadn’t this been the vow I’d made to myself that night after waking from a coma-like-state that had nearly taken both our lives? The very same night I’d discovered the gift that festered inside of me could take an Immortal life?
“Again,” I said, circling back to the center of the arena. “Let’s run through the drill again.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Haven’t I inflicted enough damage on you for one day?” The tone of challenge in his voice was obvious.
“Again!” I yelled over at him, more angry with myself than my teacher.
He hopped up from the felled tree and jogged over to me. “Suit yourself.” He smiled and cracked his neck as I took my readied position in front of him.
He crouched, readying himself. I side-stepped to the right, anticipating his high kick from the left that had knocked me senseless several times already.
He broke his position and straightened, his gaze shifting to the right of my shoulder. “What’s up, William?” he shouted, waving his hand.
He couldn’t have ever loved a woman if he expected I would be fooled so easily. I could feel William’s energy a good mile away and there’s no way I’d still be feinting around Patrick now if he were anywhere near.
Patrick’s kick came half a second later, silent as the wind and fast as a bullet, but my tuck and roll was faster still. I landed behind him and before the dust erupted, I was on my feet. He spun around just in time for his chest to connect with my right heel. I relished his look of shock all the way to his collision with the big pine at the far end of the arena.
My laugh was as loud as the crashing timber. “How’s that for taking the teacher to school?”
“Ouch.” Patrick chuckled as I made my way over to him. “If you tell anyone, I’ll key your Camaro.”
“Sore loser,” I said, extending my hand for him. He took it and I pulled him up from the splinters of pine scattered around him. I pulled a large chunk from his tangled hair. “I’m afraid I made a mess of your lovely locks.”
I felt it a moment after his expression turned to stone. We were no longer alone, the energy surrounding us we both felt was not familiar . . . nor friendly.
“What an opportune situation you’ve provided us with,” a voice called out from the shadow of the trees. It sent chills cascading down my back.
“Consider it an early Christmas present,” Patrick called out. He placed his hand over my back and its firmness calmed my chills. “Although it would sure be nice to know who we’ve so pleased.”
The sound of multiple footfalls came from all around us, like a battalion bearing down on an enemy target. Patrick’s hand pushed me towards the center of the ring as a circle of bodies erupted from the trees. All Immortal, obvious from the shades of blue staring at us and the way the decades of existence tainted their expressions.
I scanned the dozen surrounding us, my stomach dropping when I recognized two of the faces. The two faces that had held William’s arms behind his back when my name had been called out in death. Two beings whose names I didn’t know, but their faces had plagued my dream and awake state for the past three months. Faces I prayed I’d never see again, but somehow knew I would.
I cleared my throat, trying to force my vocal chords open. “They’re from—”
“John Townsend’s Alliance,” Patrick finished, glaring around the ring of men that were easily double, if not triple, my size. “I thought I smelt your foul scent, Andre.” He nodded at a man standing several steps farther in than the rest. “These your newest set of goons created to do John’s dirty work?”
Andre sniffed the air. “Patrick, Patrick, Patrick. I knew I smelt a rat, although I thought it would be the other Hayward rat.” He wrinkled his nose and sniffed the air. His eyes fell on me and he eyed Patrick’s hand resting on my back. “I guess Miss Dawson found she preferred another Hayward. But you’ll do for now. We can take care of William later.”
I shook Patrick’s hand off, charging forward in Andre’s direction. Patrick’s elbow stopped my advance.
“She finally came around, I guess,” he said, brushing his shirt. “Why settle for my bore of a brother when she can have all this?”
“If there was anytime in your life to be serious, now would be the time,” I sneered through gritted teeth.
“Especially when that life is so near its end,” Andre flashed us a smile and snapped his fingers. The brigade surrounding us took a unified step forward.
Patrick snorted through his nose. “You mean you aren’t here to shine my shoes?”
Andre unbuttoned his suit jacket, loosening his tie. The eleven others followed suit. “We’re here to complete a mission,”—he eyed me as if in explanation—“and to send a message,” he finished, looking Patrick over head to toe.
“John wants the girl alive,” he hollered as I sucked in a breath, favoring death to whatever I’d endure at the mercy of John. “Kill the rat.”
“Remember your training, Bryn,” Patrick ordered, the lightness no longer in his voice. “I’ve got your back, you’ve got mine.”
“I won’t let you down,” I vowed and although there were twelve men—likely well-trained and merciless—to our two, these men wouldn’t succeed in at least one of their missions today. There’s no way I would let them take Patrick’s life. I would die in my defense of him as readily as I would his brother.
Andre took a step forward and the rest followed, closing the gap between us to twenty paces. Patrick and I turned our backs to one another and began side-stepping in a circle, waiting for the avalanche of bodies to descend. Andre winked and kissed the air in my direction before turning into a streak of blue bolting our direction.
It was like viewing a meteor shower in the night sky as twelve bodies streaked towards us. Three sets of hands seized on me, but their holds were barely set before I was able to crouch into a sweeper kick, sending them sprawling to the ground.
There were two more on either side of me instantly, one’s fist connecting with my jaw. The pain was as intense as any I’d known as a Mortal, but only fueled the fire I could feel raging inside. My arms and legs were a fury with movement, delivering the strikes my teacher had taught me so well. Instinct and training took over, as if my body was being commanded by some third party, because I was making no conscious command of it. I heard the same yells of pain and surprise behind me, knowing Patrick was more than holding his own.
My kicks and punches began to slow and only then did my consciousness resurface enough to realize I was only thwarting off two men, the remaining ten not in view. I lunged at them feet first, my legs spread in a v formation, sending them careening off into the tree-line before spinning around.
Patrick was moving faster and with more skill than I’d ever seen him, but it was futile against the ten men pummeling him from every angle.
“Patrick!” I screamed, lunging at the ball of Immortals who were gripping their fingers into his skin in a way that terrified me. I knew what those fingers were capable of and what they were taking from him. His face fell a moment later, his body going limp as it fell to the ground.
I charged forward, my fingers circling around the first neck I came in contact with, and something exploded inside me. My vision blurred, my senses muted; I could feel and see nothing but the fire raging inside me. My skin was sparking with my rage.
“No!” A voice penetrated my shell of fury, but it couldn’t extinguish the wildfire running rampant. It was as if I was watching my life on a movie screen, knowing what would be coming next, screaming at the girl on the film, but not able to make a lick of difference in what happened.
“Bryn.” I felt his hands connect with my skin for a split second before they fell away. I heard his body crumble to the ground beside me as the rage within dulled enough to clear my vision, but I didn’t need my sight to know who I’d find.
“William!” I screamed, aware of nothing around me but his body lying dormant at my feet. “Please, God, no.” I fell to my knees at his side, reaching palm-first for his heart, dreading the silence I might find there.
“Don’t touch him!” a voice commanded before I was thrust away from William with a force that jarred my insides. It was only then that I noticed the absence of John’s army, the addition of five Haywards, and the three bodies sprawled in awkward positions over the red stained dirt. The metal taste flowing in my mouth was evidence of where the red had come from.
Charles had a hand on each of his downed sons, his eyes closed and his face contorted in concentration. It was in these seconds that aged me in centuries that I finally understood why the Council had denied us again and again. Why they’d not, and would never, agreed to William’s and my Union. It was because they feared this very day.
The day when I’d kill him.
Looking at his expressionless face, not knowing if his eyes would ever open again, I wished with all my might that I could travel back in time to the day seven sets of hands attempted to take my life from me. I wished they would have succeeded.
Charles’ eyes opened into mine, fifty yards away, and there was hate in them. “They’re alive,” he said, his eyes leaving me as if he never cared to look at me again. “Barely.” He moved to the third body, the one whose neck I’d interlaced my fingers over.
I already knew what he’d say before he hung his head. “This soul was not so fortunate.” He closed the eyes of the man before standing. “Nathanial, Abigail,” he said, nodding at the pair whose eyes hadn’t left the bodies of their brothers. “You carry Patrick back to my house. Cora and I will take William.”
With the mention of her name, Cora shook, as if being awakened from a coma only to find herself in a nightmare. Joseph wrapped both of his arms around her as she broke into sobs.
“Joseph,”—Charles nodded at his son—“take this man’s body to your place. I need to seek the advice of the Council as to what to do with him. We’ve never been faced with this kind of situation before.”
Four sets of eyes glanced back at me, save for Charles’, and they were filled with a mix of fear and anger. Even Cora and Joseph were looking at me as if I was the enemy. I didn’t blame them though, I was the enemy—the wolf in sheep’s clothing—and they’d nearly lost two of their brothers because I’d been welcomed into their flock.
I watched William’s limp body being hoisted over Charles’ and Cora’s shoulders and carried off before I curled into a ball, closed my eyes, and let my agony tear me into pieces.