Symphony of Light and Winter (28 page)

“Goddess? Linden’s not a Goddess. A Goddess would have better taste in music.” Clarence shifted his weight and tapped his fingers on his arm.

I shot Clarence a crippling stare. “You’re not helping.” Turning back to Lance, I said, “He is crazy. Cyril saved his ass. He should be thanking him.”

“He blames Cyril for trapping him here and killing the Goddess. But mostly for the guilt he feels for playing his part in her destruction. If you want the girl, then it’s you or Cyril.”

“What would Michael do with Cyril? Cyril is more powerful, you know.”

“He might be more powerful, but he is an even bigger fool than Michael.”

“How so?”

“He’d stop fighting in order to save you. Michael thinks you’re the Goddess, so your human life is only so important to him. He’s impatient, so he doesn’t want to have to wait until you return in another form, but if that’s what he has to do to take out Cyril, he will.”

“You’re both fucking crazy.” Clarence let out a huff.

Lance continued. “Cyril believes something entirely different. He’s already been a fool once to save your life. You asked what Michael would do to Cyril. He’d do the same thing he did last time. He’d just take him out of commission.” Lance crossed his arms and thumped his fingers on his jacket.

“That’s not possible. He can’t die.”

“He most certainly can die. He can die over and over and over again.”

“What?” I placed my hand on the car to steady myself.

“The last time we captured him, Michael kept him locked down, and killed him each time he reanimated.”

Clarence grimaced. “That’s fucked-up. This is all fucked-up.”

It wasn’t just the action that disturbed me, but the fact I married a man capable of such a thing. No wonder Cyril was so paranoid. Sickness overwhelmed my stomach and I heaved just before snapping my head up as the realization hit me. “But he can feel pain!”

“I know. He screamed like a motherfucker. But that was close to thirteen years ago. He might not have to endure as much this time. Michael drained Cyril’s blood while he held him captive and Michael thinks he can use it to outright destroy him. He doesn’t have everything he needs to do it, but he is close. We had Cyril locked up for nearly fifteen years until his merry band of assholes broke him out. I heard it took several years for him to gain back his sanity.”

I couldn’t bear to listen to any more. They killed him for fifteen years. No wonder Cyril was so suspicious and irritable all the time.

“Michael believes either way he’ll end up with both of you. If he kills Cyril, he believes as the Goddess, you will come to him. He knows if he takes you, Cyril will come for you.”

“This still doesn’t explain how Michael ended up with Olivia?”

Lance laughed. “Somehow Michael found out about you. I did my best to hide your existence. I don’t think you’re a Goddess and the last time we met, you were just a foolish little girl. I was pretty certain he’d never remember you after awakening from his death that night in the hotel room. I was right. But when I was away in Europe he discovered your existence anew and made a move on his own. He found out about your employment with the symphony and decided to confront you. It was Olivia he found in your office. That foolish woman pretended to be you. He didn’t even have to kidnap her. She went willingly, all the while keeping up the pretense.”

“That stupid bitch!” Clarence exclaimed. “What the fuck was she thinking?”

Lance continued. “It wasn’t until I returned a few days later, when I informed Michael of his mistake. He was furious and almost killed her. I convinced him she was worth more to us alive. That’s when I wrote you the note. Thankfully, I never told Michael about my plan. If I had, your lack of response may have caused an issue. I was astonished when you disappeared and really am surprised the woman has lasted this long. He does find her…entertaining, but his patience is running thin.”

“That’s why Michael was in the garden. You told him Olivia wasn’t me.”

“Yes. Believe or not, I was thankful Cyril killed him. I hoped he would forget again, but that brainless twit friend of yours brought him up to speed, hoping she’d get another chance with him.”

“Fuck.” Clarence grumbled and placed his hand on my shoulder.

“Why are you helping me?” I folded my arms tighter around me.

“I’m not. Michael’s insane and he puts all of us at risk. I don’t want yours or anyone else’s blood on my hands. I’m still human for the most part, but he can command me at any time. Be wary of me, because the next time you see me, I may not be a friend. If he wanted me to kill you, I would. I’m compelled to protect him. I feel you are harmless to him, so I’m able to give you this information.”

“He never tried to control me.”

“He wouldn’t dare with you. You’re the Goddess in his eyes. He does not want your wrath over something so trivial. He thinks you’ll eventually hate Cyril as you become more aware of who you really are.”

“How does he compel you?”

“He forces me to eat the shifting residue. If you eat immediately after his change, it is more potent. I don’t have to do it often to be under his control. He has other men, minions who are driven insane by consuming it daily. He sends them out to fight. I am still human, just controlled. The others cease to be human after their seventh straight day of consumption. They lose all identity and become an extension of Michael. He controls them with his thoughts. In large numbers they are quite effective.”

“Those were the men Cyril killed in the garden.”

“Cyril did them a favor. Michael threatens me often with that fate to reinforce my loyalty. There are only a few like me, but hundreds of minions. I have been with Michael the longest since the ingestion extends my life.”

“Will he ever release you?”

“Doubtful, plus I don’t know if he can.”

The nightmare just kept growing darker. “What do I need to do?”

“I’ll bring the girl to the concert hall on Sunday. No one should be there. It’s common ground out of the public eye, and you have a key to let us in. Leave the door open and prepare for your surrender, or to make Cyril compliant. You can come to control the girl,” Lance said as he pointed to Clarence.

“What will Michael do with me?”

“Who knows? I have a plan to execute, that’s all that concerns me. Trust me. If I could get you the fuck out of his life again, I would in a second. Until Sunday…”

He did not wait for a response. He turned and walked to his car.

Clarence and I stood silent as we watched Lance pull away. A swift wind stirred the air, and Clarence turned to stare at me.

“What the fuck was that? Tell me that was rehearsal for a movie or a play or something or you’re both fucking loose from the psych hospital.”

“You wanted to know.”

“What the fuck? I thought you were going to tell me some story about how you and the big guy fucked like bunnies for the last two weeks, not some kind of screwed-up extraterrestrial bullshit.”

“They’re not aliens.”

“Oh, yeah, like that’s the only thing wrong with that statement.” He moved his arms sharply to his side.

“Well, it’s too late now. You’re knee-deep, buddy. It only gets worse, but there are a few things I think you’ll appreciate.”

“This is all kinds of fucked-up, so I highly doubt it?”

I shot him a big smile. “I think you’ll enjoy breakfast.”

* * *

After answering a hundred or so questions for Clarence on the ride back to Cyril’s house, I considered him up to speed. Overton met me at the door and showed Clarence to a guest room. It was best with all the knowledge he had that Clarence stay close. I hated to bring him into all of it, but I selfishly needed a connection to the normal time of my life, and he was the only fragment left.

Everyone attended dinner fully dressed, unlike breakfast, and Clarence seemed to find a new appreciation for his surroundings. I excused myself promptly because I did not want to distress the men any more than necessary, given my effect on them.

I knew Cyril wasn’t home, so the knock on my door surprised me. I unlocked it to find Overton standing in the hall in a basic pair of blue jeans and a white snug-fitting T-shirt.

“So, you got the book?” he asked as he pushed past me.

“Yes. How did you know?”

“It’s faint but I can sense it.” His gaze scanned the room.

“Why didn’t you tell me Myghal held Cyril captive and repeatedly tortured and killed him?” I placed my hands on my hips and moved into his personal space.

“It’s his story, not mine.” He made no effort to move away.

“Cut the crap, Overton! Please. He’s not forthcoming. Hell, I had to drug him to get answers. Or at least I tried to.” I ran my hands over my face trying to wipe away the frustration. It didn’t help, but bought me enough time to come up with a plan. I knew it was unfair, but it was war. Stepping in closer, I placed my hands on Overton’s muscled chest.

Overton swallowed hard and stumbled over his words. “He’s—ah, he’ll…he…is going to be pissed.”

I continued to touch him. Soft caresses caused tormented expressions on his face as I outlined his pecs with one finger through the fabric of his T-shirt. I couldn’t afford to scare him away, so I didn’t press him further.

“I don’t think he will be,” I said, attempting to convey my sincerity.

“Bloody hell, woman, you’re killing me.”

I placed my hand over his beating heart. “You feel very much alive to me.”

He took a deep breath and exhaled slow. “Forgive me,” he mumbled to himself. “You remember how Cyril told you of the night he delivered you and created your aunt?’

“Yes.” I wrapped my arm around his waist and nestled myself closer.

He tensed but continued. “He told you Myghal retreated?”

“Yes.”

“That is true but Myghal came back and he brought an army of minions. Cyril was afraid since he had destroyed Ruarc, his magic might inadvertently kill you. Delivering you and Making your aunt remained his primary focus. He feared the discharge from his magic may have been what killed your parents so he refused to use it. He couldn’t overcome the number of minions Myghal had without the magic. They were like a swarm of insects; weak when they struck alone, but deadly in numbers. He sent you off into the woods with your aunt. Fatigued from the battle, he surrendered so they wouldn’t look for you.”

“How long did they hold him?”

“Fifteen years.” Overton’s voice hitched, and tears sprang to my eyes. The look of remorse and guilt on Overton’s face broke my heart. I hugged him tighter.

“I know you tried to save him,” I said and looked up into Overton’s tear-rimmed eyes.

He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me as close as he could. With his face buried in my hair he whispered, “We tried everything. We looked everywhere. They kept moving him. I can usually sense him but only when he’s alive and immediately after his death. The…signal, I guess you could call it, amplifies when he dies, but fades quickly. If we don’t get to him in time, he’s lost to us. This happened repeatedly. We could feel him die but couldn’t get to him soon enough. Each time, we had a smaller window to react. His Awakening grew shorter each time.”

My heart hurt. The pit in my stomach weighed heavily.

“But he forgot each death, the pain from the one before, just like he forgot me, right?”

Overton pulled back and looked into my eyes. “No, Linden.” He closed his eyes and whispered, “That part he always remembers.”

He suffered because he tried to save me.

A sob escaped my lips.

Overton continued. “I was in Venice, trying to keep the family together and the business running. I was meeting with a business associate when I felt Cyril die, but the intensity hit me so hard it felt like a heart attack, which I knew was impossible. I suspected the difference must be that he was close by. I called the others and we were able to locate him and retrieve him. His suffering didn’t end there. The next several years of rehabilitation were rough. As you know, Cyril can be quite stubborn. By that point, he remembered dying but had forgotten you existed. When he found you in the cemetery, he told no one. He didn’t want Myghal to know about you, and he was still suspicious. The best we can glean is that Myghal must have had you followed. We’re not sure why he tried to infiltrate your life.”

“I know. He thinks I’m the Goddess.”

“How do you know that?”

“I have a connection.”

“So, you’ve met Lance?”

“Yes, how do you know about him?”

“Remember, I do my homework. Myghal has been an issue since the day I was created. How did Lance get in touch with you?”

“He sent a letter to my work.”

“Can I see it?” Overton stroked my back with soft, gentle caresses.

“I left it at work,” I lied. “I believe Myghal waited until Cyril was weak from performing the ritual, and then killed him, betting on his memory loss. But I still don’t understand why Myghal didn’t just kidnap me.”

“If he thinks you’re the Goddess, he’ll want your approval. He also needed Cyril out of the way but didn’t have the army for an assault like last time. We saw to that last year. It was easier to hope Cyril forgot you and to seduce you than it is to take Cyril on face-to-face. Especially since he now knows Cyril can kill him. I don’t think he’ll ever attempt a full-on attack again.”

“I still don’t understand why it took Cyril so long to wake up when he died with me. If he was being repeatedly killed in the past decade, why did it take so long?”

“I’m not positive, but it could be because of the power he expended at the ritual and then the subsequent battle. He’s learned to blow off steam, as you might say, so too much power does not collect within him. That is what he was doing that night.”

We stood for a moment staring at each other. Both feeling the helplessness of reliving the past, he held me close.

“Stanton, who is the woman in the paintings?” I asked and pointed toward the hallway.

“I don’t know. I assumed the Goddess.”

Taking Overton’s hand, I pulled him toward the door. We made our way to the end to stand in front of the painting that showed the three freckles on the woman’s hip.