“But this is so much more. This is impossible. You can’t give up your human world. Your connections and involvement with your sister, Megan, alone are paramount.”
Abigail sighed heavily. “That you would say as much, makes this harder still for me.”
“How so?”
“Because I value that you understand how important Megan is in my life.”
“She’s your sister. Of course she’s important. And you have a niece and nephew. Because my birth family lives in one of the European Realms, I think of my castle staff in much the same way. I don’t think I could be asked to give up Gus, for instance.”
“Even with his wide mouth and flappy tongue?”
He smiled just off to one side. Her heart constricted a little more. “He could have a hundred such defects and I would still need him in my home.”
“But would I be able to visit Flagstaff, I mean, if I made this change?”
“You would become vampire and how you perceive the world would change. Your frequencies would grow in strength and it could become uncomfortable to visit at times. You would have blood needs. Your life would be very different from Megan’s, as different as mine is from yours right now.”
And Megan had always relied on her. Always.
But she had a husband now, and yet, it was to Abigail that Megan always turned. When her girls were sick, Abigail had taken shifts caring for them through the night, for several nights in a row.
Besides, Abigail had always seen her Merhaine adventure as just that, a little excitement to while away her days. She just hadn’t counted on falling in love with a vampire.
Gerrod moved close and took her hand. “There is something else I want you to think about. This is a dangerous time in our long history because of the rise of the Invictus. The attack last night was different, which indicates an escalation on the part of the enemy, and we don’t know the direction the attacks will turn. Ethan said that in his realm, the Invictus have also grown more active in the wastelands. He’s checking even now to see if the poorer realm-folk of Bergisson have been disappearing as they have here.
“As for myself, Abigail there is part of me that wants to keep you with me always. I’ve been half in love with you since that first day, when I caught your very sweet rosemary scent. All that Vojalie’s pronouncement meant today is that now I have words for what has happened to me. I’ve found my blood rose and I want to keep you for so many reasons.
“But I also believe I must let you go. I don’t approve of this arrangement. I can’t abide the thought that you would give up your heritage. That is a perversion to me even if you say it feels natural and good, nothing forced.
“You should go home. At the very least, go home to think about all of this. And if you don’t come back, trust me, with all my heart, I will completely understand.”
He looked forlorn, such an old-fashioned word, but that was what he looked like to her, standing there and making his usual Gerrod-like sacrifice, thinking of others rather than himself.
For that reason alone she wanted to stay. Gerrod deserved to have his life eased and there was no question in her mind that she brought exactly that to his life. The fact that he had almost started smiling while she was with him was an indication all by itself.
But he wasn’t smiling now.
The trouble was, she couldn’t possibly think about making such an enormous decision without talking it over with Megan.
She also had a profound sense that if she left, she would never come back.
This forced her feet to march forward and though he didn’t exactly open his arms, she pressed her chest against his, closed her eyes, and slung her arms yet again around his waist.
She held him fast. After a moment, his powerful arms surrounded her as well, tighter this time than ever before.
“Abigail,” he said softly. She felt his lips on the top of her head, a tender gesture. That defined him exactly, all this brawn, yet underneath so much tenderness and sacrifice.
What on earth, or even in Merhaine, was she going to do?
Gerrod sat in his fat leather chair in the entrance hall, feeling like he wanted his bottle of whisky for a while, maybe for the rest of the night.
Abigail was gone.
He’d snapped at three of his staff.
Gus, upon hearing the news of her departure, had lifted his chin, his lips set in a grim disapproving line. “You sent her away?”
“None of your business, troll,” he’d growled.
“The Goddess’s nipples it’s not,” he had muttered, heading back to the nether regions. His feet did a strange angry troll march that Gerrod only saw on those occasions when Gus was as mad as fire.
Let them all scowl at him and mutter hard things against his character.
Abigail was gone.
His head fell forward. He planted his elbow on the arm of the chair and with what seemed like monumental effort, supported the weight of his head in his hand.
He felt as though the moment she stepped into his car to go back to Flagstaff, she had sliced his heart from his chest and taken it with her. He had watched from the front of the castle, the door thrown wide. He caught the last glimpse of the car, the last wink of taillights, the last roll of dust and pine needles as the car caught the shoulder then sped down the dark pavement.
Abigail.
He had remained in the doorway, trying to pretend that he would be just fine without her.
Now, as he sat with the door shut on an immediate past that had just cut him off at the knees, he tried to have some perspective. He’d been right to think of her life and her happiness and to send her away. It could never be a bad thing to act in someone else’s best interest, surely.
Except that his chest was a vacant hole and already his body was craving a hit of her blood, that elixir flavored with just a touch of rosemary, the taste which had brought his member to proud attention, and which in turn had given her pleasure.
He wished her back. He would swallow all his words of self-sacrifice.
He wished her back a thousand times.
Abigail returned to Flagstaff and to her home at the end of a long private road. The two-story house, her pride and joy, backed up to the forest. Her two cats had missed her, Frida and Diego, but looked well-fed from a neighbor’s cat-loving care.
Could she bring her cats to Merhaine? Could they live in the castle? How would a mastyr vampire feel about a cat box?
She laughed, but the sound came out tinny. She poured Fancy Feast into two separate bowls, and watched her tabby and her tuxedo lower their heads and begin the small familiar bobs of chowing down.
Cats had simple lives.
Hers wasn’t.
On the following morning, she called the bakery, but was surprised when a part-time employee, Joy, answered the phone. “Hey, Joy, I didn’t think you worked today.”
A long pause.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. “What’s going on?”
“You don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?” Oh, God.
“Megan’s in the hospital.”
Abigail’s gaze skittered back and forth over the kitchen island as though hunting for a place to land. “She’s in the hospital? When? What happened?” And why hadn’t anyone called her?
"Last night, late. But I’m not sure why. Megan said not to bother you, that you had a date in Merhaine.”
“Not a date. A wedding.”
“Huh. She called it a date. Said it was with some hot uber-hunk.”
In the distance, Abigail heard the jangle of the hanging silver doorbells of the bakery. A customer. “I’m heading over to the hospital now.”
“Okay. And would you let us know what’s going on? We still haven’t heard from Megan or Joe.”
“Yes, of course.”
She called Megan’s husband first. Joe picked up on the second ring, but he spoke quietly. “Hi, Abigail. I’m so sorry. She wouldn’t let me call. She didn’t want to disturb your date. Everything’s okay. No asthma, I promise. It was her appendix. They took it out. She’s resting.”
Abigail released a very deep breath. “I’m going to get cleaned up and I’ll be over in about an hour.”
“Sounds good. Really, Abigail, no worries here, I promise.”
Abigail hung up then headed upstairs to her bathroom. She stripped, got the water going at just the right temp, then let all that moist warmth beat some of the tension out of her.
Later, at the hospital, Megan lay on her back, her face very white, her red hair splayed out on the pillow. “The drugs are great,” she said, but her smile had one corner turned down.
“You were hurting.”
“It hurt like a bitch.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“Because I wanted that vampire to see you in your beautiful gown.”
He’d seen her all right. Then she’d seen him. All of him. She’d even donated blood. She’d learned she was something so rare in realm-lore that Gerrod had never even heard of it before. And she’d seen the Invictus. Oh, God, it all seemed so unreal or at the very least something that had happened years ago and not hours.
Abigail pulled her chair closer to the bed and took one of Megan’s hands. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
“Joe was. You don’t have to feel bad. I don’t want you to feel bad.”
Abigail smiled, but she felt so sad, though she wasn’t certain why. “Well, I’m back now. Elena has the bakery well-in-hand in Hollow-Tree.”
“But you’ll go back, right?”
She shook her head. “Not right away. There’s quite a bit of objection to a human opening a business in Hollow County. We’re going to let the dust settle.” It might not have been the complete truth or even a fraction of the truth, but keeping out of sight for a while would not be a bad thing.
“What are you not telling me, sis?”
“Nothing.” Much. She sighed. She stared at the light blanket on the bed and on the clip over Megan’s finger, monitoring her heart rate.
