The Knowledge of Love (The Nememiah Chronicles Book 4) Page 5

  Striker sat on the armchair opposite us and surprised me with his next statement. For a man who always seemed the equivalent of the class clown, he was taking his role as Kiss leader with a great deal of solemnity. “I wasn't keen on you being alone, Lott, but I'm more concerned now. I don't think it's healthy for you to keep living in the cottage you shared with Lucas, not when you're having a baby.” He leaned forward, studying me with compassion. “Why don't you think about moving in with Matt and Misaki? I'm sure they'd welcome you with open arms.”

  I shook my head. I had to agree, staying in the cottage was only causing me heartache. Memories of Lucas were everywhere and today's avoidance of going home wasn't the first. “We're only just developing a relationship; I can't see myself living with them. Besides, they use the second bedroom in their cottage for Kazuki. They hardly have room for me as well.”

  Striker pursed his lips, and considered the problem thoughtfully.

  “Ben and I would love to have you come stay with us,” Rowena announced. “We have the spare bedroom and we would be pleased to have you live with us while you find your feet again.”

  Ben nodded his agreement and I smiled warmly, probably the first genuine smile I'd managed in a week. Living with Ben and Rowena would be wonderful, they were so caring and really did consider me as a daughter. I'd be more comfortable with them than with Matt and Misaki. I really liked Matt and loved Misaki, but I just wasn't ready to live with them. The thought led me directly to another and my smile dissolved when I thought about how Matt would react to me moving in with Ben and Rowena. Would he be disappointed?

  Acenith saw the play of emotions across my face and patted my arm. “I can talk to them, if you'd like. I'm sure Matt and Misaki would understand your reasoning.”

  “That would be great.” I leaned forward to pick up the discarded coffee, then had second thoughts and dropped my hand away. Ben chuckled and picked up the mug.

  “I know; I make lousy coffee. I'll walk to the mess and get you one which is drinkable.” With a wink and a smile, he slipped out the door.

  Striker was concentrating when I looked back at him, and he brought up another subject. “The leaders of the other packs need to be notified of the pregnancy, and we'll have to make some adjustments to your routine, I guess. Hell, what do I know? The only pregnant woman I've ever known is my Momma, and she didn't have to fight in a war.”

  “I don't want anyone to know,” I said, with a stubborn shake of my head. “Jerome says I'm only four weeks pregnant, there's no need to tell anyone for a while.”

  “Epi will have to know,” Holden suggested. He'd slid down onto the floor and was sitting cross-legged, his back against the wall.

  “No. He doesn't,” I protested. “He's going to have a cow about it. I'd rather avoid that until the last possible moment.”

  “Charlotte,” Rowena began, but I shook my head even more firmly.

  “No. I won't tell him until I absolutely have to. And nobody else is going to, either.”

  Striker sighed heavily. “Alright, Lott. If that's what you want. But what about training?”

  “What about it?” I questioned, lifting my chin determinedly. “I can keep training for a while yet. Jerome didn't say I couldn't.”

  “But the baby,” Acenith said, “Would it harm the baby?”

  I shrugged. “I doubt it. From what I understand about pregnancy, the baby is pretty safe and secure in there.” The bizarreness struck me anew, we were having a conversation about a baby which was actually growing inside me. “Besides, whether everyone knows or no-one knows – what difference will it make? If the Consiliului attack, I'm needed to fight.”

  “She's right,” Holden said. “She's our strongest weapon.”

  “Agreed,” Striker said. “But Nick and Conal need to know, they'll be training with her.”

  “I want to change partners,” I announced. “I'm not going to train with Conal anymore.” In truth, the decision was a split-second one and didn't bear up to too much scrutiny, but after the confrontation with Conal in the hospital earlier, I couldn't bear the thought of training with him any longer.

  Again, a solid silence descended on the room and it was more than a minute before anyone spoke. “Why?” Striker finally questioned gently.

  “I just… I can't. I lost Lucas. I can't work with Conal and know he might be at risk because he's with me on the battleground. I want to work with someone else. Anyone else.”

  Striker's eyes narrowed and I lowered my gaze, determined not to meet his eyes. I didn't want him to see the pain and anguish in mine. The fight with Conal had shaken me on a day when I'd been shaken more times than I could count and I didn't want to explain any further. The love I had for Conal was like a bleeding wound which couldn't be cauterized and was hemorrhaging. I couldn't love him – not now – not when I'd seen how easily love was destroyed in this war. And I most certainly couldn't take to the battlefield with him at my side, knowing I was the prime target of the Drâghici and Archangelo's efforts. No, it was better if I avoided him at all costs and much better if I didn't work with him. He'd be safer if he was far away from me on the field and in my day-to-day life. And nothing and no-one would convince me otherwise.

  With a heavy sigh, Striker nodded. “Alright. I'll talk to Epi myself, let him know you need a new training partner.”

  “How will you explain it?” I questioned softly.

  Striker shook his head wearily. “I'll think of something.”

  Chapter 7: Recoveries and Estrangements

  Archangelo stood in a lavish bedroom, the walls decorated with ostentatious gold and black wallpaper. He was naked, gazing at his reflection in a cheval mirror. I wanted to look away but was powerless to do so, staring in revulsion at his nudity. The orb I'd fired at him had failed. His body was complete and normal, the only sign of injury the deep purple bruising around his groin and hips.

  I heard a discreet knock and Archangelo turn towards the door, standing arrogantly naked as two Drâghici guards stepped into the room. Each vampire had a firm grip on the arms of the women they dragged behind them, four in total. The women were wide eyed and clearly terrified when they spied Archangelo. As one, they screamed and panicked, trying to wrestle away from the vampires' grip. Their efforts were futile, the vampires both powerful and impossible to overcome.

  Archangelo strode towards them and I shuddered at the blatant evidence of his arousal. He walked around the women, eyeing each female lasciviously in turn. What he saw, I saw, and I realized with mounting horror that each of the women shared a resemblance to me. Dark brown curls, fair skin and green eyes. I watched in disbelief as Archangelo casually made his selections. “You… and you.” He motioned to the guards. “Dispose of the others, they do not serve my purpose.”

  The shorter of the two nodded his acknowledgement and took hold of the women Archangelo had discarded. He dragged them from the room, shutting the door inaudibly behind him.

  Archangelo gripped the nearest woman's hair, ignoring her screams and pleas for mercy as he hauled her towards the bed. The second victim stood with the guard, detained by his iron grip around her arms. Her hair was longer, falling in waves more than curls, her eyes a startling shade of sea-green. She was screaming, rapidly gaining comprehension of just how much danger she was in.

  Archangelo tore the clothes from the girl he'd chosen, ripping them roughly from her body and slapping when her hands got in his way. When she was completely naked he shoved her onto the bed and ruthlessly mounted her, punching repeatedly when she clawed at his face. He raped her as I watched. I was appalled by what he was doing to this defenseless young woman and powerless to stop him. He was vicious in the attack, brutal and cruel and I tried desperately to shut out the girl's piteous screams, which reduced to a sobbing whimper which was agony to hear. I knew her sobs would haunt me for all the days of my life.

  Archangelo continued to plunge into her until he reached a shuddering climax. He lowered his mouth to the girl's throat
and sank his fangs into her neck, sucking away her life through her jugular vein.

  The second girl had fainted, still held upright by the guard who'd watched the debauchery with an impassive expression. Her limbs hung limply, her head slumped. Archangelo pushed his first victim from the bed, watching her lifeless corpse flop onto the wooden floor with a smile of satisfaction.

  “She passed out, sir,” the guard announced when Archangelo strolled towards him, his mouth and neck smeared with the blood of the dead woman.

  “No matter. She doesn't need to be awake. I only want to confirm that I've recovered from what that bitch did,” Archangelo said. He lifted the unconscious girl and threw her over his shoulder. “It won't hurt to double check that everything is functioning, will it?”

  Piercing screams shattered the nightmare and I came awake, realizing it was my own voice I was hearing. I sat up, wrapping my arms around myself as I shook convulsively.

  Ben reached me in seconds, Rowena close behind and she wrapped me in her arms, holding me close as I cried. My breathing was choppy, the nightmare seared into my memory.

  “Was it the same nightmare?” Ben asked.

  I nodded hesitantly, struggling to formulate coherent words. I'd been having similar nightmares frequently in the past few weeks. Since the attack on the city I'd been subjected to Archangelo's recuperation, watching him use women as guinea pigs to ensure he'd recovered from the damage I'd inflicted. For three long weeks it had been the same events repeatedly – the council guards providing women and Archangelo killing them when he found himself unable to perform sexually. Until tonight. “He's completely recovered,” I stated bleakly when I found the strength to speak. “He raped his victims tonight before he murdered them.”

  Rowena held her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide. “And you saw that? Oh, Charlotte!”

  Ben squeezed his eyes closed, pressing a thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. “It's little comfort, but perhaps now these nightmares will cease. If he is able to function again, we can only pray he'll give up this barbaric practice.”

  “It could mean they'll attack again.” We'd assumed Archangelo's recuperation was the reason we hadn't been attacked, presuming the Consiliului were waiting while he recovered. I shuddered involuntarily, mentally adding tonight's victims to the steady stream who'd been murdered in recent nightmares and recalling the horrible way they'd died.

  Ben stood up. “I'll tell Epi,” he announced, glancing at his watch. “I'm sure he'll still be awake.” Before he left, he kissed my forehead. “I think I'd prefer a fresh attack on Zaen, rather than see you face any more of these night terrors.” He slipped out of the room, leaving me with Rowena and she fussed over settling me against the pillows, brushing her fingers soothingly through my hair.

  I'd been living with Rowena and Ben for three weeks, ever since the pregnancy was confirmed. While I still struggled every day with Lucas's death, I'd been surprised to discover each day got a tiny bit easier. I missed him terribly, but moving in with Rowena and Ben had reduced the sense of loneliness considerably with their company and unconditional love. I was even more grateful for their support when the haunting nightmares had begun days after I moved in.

  The entire Tine Kiss had cocooned me with love, ensuring someone was with me constantly. My concerns had proven unfounded and Gwynn had been absolutely delighted about the pregnancy. She was incredibly protective, always ensuring I ate properly and got enough rest. In fact, she and Marianne had turned into mother hens and I loved them for it. I trusted all the Tines' implicitly, knew they'd keep my secret until it was impossible to maintain. Nobody else in the city knew about the baby. I continued to train, working to increase my abilities and no-one was any the wiser.

  “I saw Conal today,” Rowena said quietly, continuing to gently brush her fingers through my curls. “He's worried about you, Charlotte.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, pain and guilt gnawing remorselessly at my heart. This was a subject I didn't want to discuss and I hoped ignoring Rowena would deter her. I was destined to be disappointed.

  “Why won't you talk to him?” Rowena continued, her voice calm.

  I turned away, focusing on the window. “I've got nothing to say.” Since our argument at the hospital and my subsequent decision to stop training with Conal, our relationship had deteriorated to the point where we no longer spoke. I refused to have anything to do with Conal, avoiding him every single day. If he was in the mess I didn't go in, if I saw him in the streets I'd turn and walk in the opposite direction. I did everything in my power to avoid Conal Tremaine. The only time I couldn't avoid him was at meetings and even then I situated myself as far as possible from where he sat and avoided speaking to him.

  As promised, Striker had gotten Epi to switch me out from training with Conal and Nick. I had no idea what Striker had told Epi, nor how he'd managed to convince him, but I was relieved with the result. I was working with Nat Finton and one of the Reynolds werewolves, a dependable guy named Piers Larsson. To say Conal was angry about the change in arrangements was a massive understatement. He'd approached me when Epi advised him of the change to our training partners, demanding to know why I was shutting him out of my life.

  How could I tell him? What could I tell him? It was only a matter of time before I'd have to admit to being pregnant, which would cause uproar in Zaen. For Conal, it would be the final, devastating blow. He'd maintained he was happy with my decision to choose Lucas; he'd insisted I belonged with Lucas. Our fight at the hospital - if that short conversation could even constitute a fight - confirmed what he'd said was as far from the truth as it was possible to get. I was still beating myself up over hurting him so badly. To tell him I was pregnant with Lucas's baby would be a final insult to a man who was wonderful and deserved so much more than I could ever give him.

  I couldn't admit the truth to him. I couldn't admit I was frightened to fight with him on the battlefield, terrified of watching him get killed before my eyes. Scared stiff of losing him as I'd lost Lucas. I'd sworn I would never love a man again. Would never become involved, to the point where I could be hurt as badly as I had been by Lucas's death. It was better for Conal if he thought I didn't love him. It would be better to have him believe I hated him and I was determined to stick with the decision I'd made.

  Conal needed to move on. He was the leader of the Tremaine pack and he had a responsibility to marry a full blood werewolf. Letting him hang on to any hope of being with me was selfish, because I couldn't and wouldn't allow myself to love him, didn't want to have my heart broken again. When I'd told him my decision, on that horrible day when he'd confronted me, I'd assured him with grim certainty that he should be dating other women and forgetting about me. The haunted look in his eyes was another memory which would trouble me forever, but even now I was convinced of the appropriateness of the decision.

  “Charlotte, you know how he feels about you,” Rowena insisted gently. “And you have feelings for him. We all know it. And I can feel it from you, you're so terribly conflicted about him.”

  I glanced at Rowena, startled by this admission. “Your empathy is coming back?”

  She smiled. “Yes, all our additional powers are beginning to return. Which means that I can feel how this decision you've made is tearing you apart. You're lying to yourself about Conal. What I don't understand is why you won't have anything to do with him?”

  I returned my gaze to the window, picking absently at a loose strand of cotton on the comforter. “I don't want to get hurt when he dies,” I admitted.

  Rowena squeezed my arm. “You don't know that he'll die, Charlotte.”

  I glanced at her, tears streaking my cheeks. “I can't take that risk. I won't.”

  Rowena caught her lower lip between her teeth, worrying at it before she spoke again. “You're so unhappy, Charlotte. All you've done this past few weeks is train, eat and sleep. You won't allow anyone in, won't share with anyone how you're feeling. It's not healthy.”

 
; “I have to concentrate on training. It's important,” I protested, thought it sounded like a pathetic justification even to me. “We don't know when the next attack will come.”

  “But you need some lightness in your life. Conal gives you that.”

  “Rowena, please!” I begged. “Please don't talk about this anymore. It's better for Conal this way. He needs to move on, find a werewolf to marry. You know that's what he has to do, it's what his pack expects from him. Besides,” I admitted quietly, “he'll hate me forever when he finds out about the baby.”

  “I don't think so.”

  I turned to her, stiffening my resolve. “Well I do. I'm not discussing this anymore. I'll never be involved with another man again. I don't want to experience hurt like I have since Lucas's death. Conal needs to move on, find someone else. That's the best thing for both of us.”

  Rowena looked doubtful but kept her own council, playing with my hair until I fell into a troubled sleep.

  Chapter 8: Keep out of my Head

  Archangelo lounged in an ornate armchair, one leg draped carelessly over the upholstered arm. Alberich Bran sat in a chair opposite him, his body language indicating his extreme displeasure. He held himself rigidly, his body like a fragile statue which could shatter at any minute.

  “She'll be mine now,” Archangelo announced, smiling coldly. “I've killed the dog and the leech who kept her from me. I am fully recovered.”

  “Archangelo, when will you give up this outrageous obsession?” Alberich Bran templed his fingertips against his forehead, as though suffering a severe headache.

  Archangelo leapt from the chair, his eyes blazing with fury. “She is mine!” he screamed. “When will YOU learn to accept that? She was always meant to be mine!”

  Bran stared up into Archangelo's enraged face, his own coldly impassive. “You forget yourself, Archangelo. Our mission is not for you to mate with the woman, our only goal is domination of the supernatural order. Your unscheduled trips to Zaen must cease immediately.”