Crimson Moon (29 page)

We passed through the left corridor with hallways lined with massive pillars. The floor beneath was constructed of an expensive stone, gold and cream marble swirled together. I counted each step, trying to distract myself.

"Breathe,” Trent offered encouragingly.

I deferred to his advice, taking deep calming breaths. I was more anxious with every step, each one bringing me closer to a moment I was certain I would never experience.

We stopped at two double doors on the left of the hall. Trent pulled them open and I stepped inside, waiting for him to close them behind us. The room was surprisingly bare, a few pieces of opulent furniture scattered about.

Directly across the way were two chairs, each occupied with a body. I squinted, unable to see clearly as the light at the door wasn't very good, the lamps and fireplace were further inside. Trent placed a reassuring hand on my arm, guiding me toward the chairs. My throat tightened and I felt sick, my hands clammy and shaking.

They stood in unison and my eyes drifted to the one on the left that stepped forward. He was tall, with thick black hair and slate grey eyes like the sky following a storm. Emotion seemed to cross his face, vanishing in the instant it appeared.

His broad body fit inside the dark sweater and slacks easily, his shoulders hovering only inches above my own. I couldn't tear my eyes away. This was the moment I'd imagined since I was old enough to conceive of his absence. This was my Father.

"Emmaline,” he spoke my name reverently, stepping forward. His voice was the barest of whispers, a Scottish accent discernable even still.

I stood uncertain. I swore that I would hate this man. That I would listen but I wouldn't cave. The heartache of an abandoned childhood had kept me going, nourishing my sense of betrayal. I wanted to wash my hands clean of him just as he had of me and my Mother, bringing him to suffer just as we had.

I'd replayed this exact moment over and over in my head, in a million different places, in a million different ways. But now that I was faced with the reality, it wasn't as simple as I'd convinced myself. I didn't even know how to address him. I didn't know what to say.

His eyes swept over me before resting on my face. He stepped forward again, stopping inches away. It was odd, he appeared only years older than myself, his change to vampire freezing him indefinitely in time.

He was handsome. The dark hair on his head combined with those eyes and that brogue...my Mother never had a chance. A fierce protectiveness surged within, reigniting my anger with a vengeance. My jaw clenched tight and I felt myself flush.

"Welcome home, daughter.” He attempted to hug me and I stepped back and away from him, bumping into Trent.

"Don't!” I demanded in a shaky voice. “Don't do that."

His face dropped, hurt replacing his excitement. I expected guilt to surface but it didn't, just the intense anger remained, a fire burning within.

"I came to listen to what you had to say to me. I promised that much. But this isn't a happy family reunion. Don't pretend that everything is suddenly hunky dory because you've decided to play Daddy,” I told him evenly, body trembling.

"I understand,” he said sadly. “I don't expect anything more from you, I never have. But your Mother—"

"Don't,” I snapped, my temperature rising with a newfound animosity. “Don't bring her into this. You don't have the right."

"If you would just listen—” He started and I cut him off again.

"No, we will not discuss her. What gives you the right? What kind of person leaves behind a woman who's pregnant with his child anyway? What kind of man are you?"

"Emmaline.” He tried again.

"No,” I cut him off a third time, bitter and resentful. “Answer that question first. That's the million dollar one and the reason I came here. Tell me, was it easy for you? Did you even shed a tear when she died?"

"That's quite enough.” A feminine voice spoke from behind, coming around to stand beside him.

I felt the floor rock under my feet but I remained standing.

She hadn't changed—not really. Her face was smoother, the skin luminescent and pale. Her features were more defined and beautiful, yet exactly as they were in that picture taken on the porch years ago.

I knew every detail of that face by heart, had them ingrained in my memories. How many hours had I spent staring at family albums, trying to get to know her through stories and shared memories? Her hair was still long and mahogany brown, hanging in long shining waves down her back and across her shoulders.

I looked into her face, meeting my own eyes.

"Mom?” The word came out hollow and disbelieving.

"Emmaline.” She said my name softly, flashing her dazzling smile.

I stumbled, unsteady on my feet, blackness threatening to overtake me. I lost my balance, stepping back. Trent's arms came around, scooping me up effortlessly. He strode over to a chair and I clung to him, unwilling to let go. I needed something solid to keep me grounded.

"
It's okay, Emma
,” he soothed. “
I'm right here
."

He bent down and placed me into the chair. I watched them approach with confused eyes; my Mother and Father, side by side.

"
Remember to breathe
,” Trent reminded me.

I took several ragged breaths, dragging oxygen into my lungs, my frazzled brain short circuited. This had never been a possibility in any of my childhood fantasies.

"I know this must come as a shock,” my Mother said softly, her voice as gentle and melodic as I'd dreamed it would be. “If there had been any other way, we'd have gladly considered it."

"How did this happen?” I asked, dazed.

They sat across from me on the loveseat, deliberately close to one another. He placed his hand on her leg and she mirrored the movement, placing her fingers on top. It was unimaginable. This could have been them at Grandma's house years ago, before I'd ever been conceived. My parents appeared young enough to be my siblings, or my friends from school.

"It's a long story, one we've waited years to tell you,” she explained. “Luca and I met my sophomore year in college. He had flown to the states as a last experience in his mortal life—his final sabbatical. He never expected to meet me or that we'd fall in love so quickly. The months passed, and when it was time for him to return, he told me everything."

"I was pregnant by then,” she whispered, smiling sadly. “And I knew I couldn't join him. You were more important. So I told Luca I didn't want to see him anymore and wouldn't consider making the trip or leaving my life behind. And I told your Grandmother that it was for the best that we had parted ways. She didn't question any of it. She just accepted my story. Then, you were born, and I was happy again. Everything was perfect.” She paused. “Until the day of the accident. After that, I thought everything was over."

"But it wasn't,” Luca smiled, speaking up and taking over. His words came out rushed, spoken excitedly so that I didn't have the opportunity doubt his sincerity. “I'd changed by then but I couldn't let go. I asked Trent to watch over Lily for me and that was when I found out about you, Emmaline. She didn't tell me, I never knew. So I kept eyes on you both, just in case you needed me. Trent called with the bad news about your Mother and I came back. I waited for her to improve, but she wasn't going to. She was dying, Emmaline. I could smell it when I walked into her room in the hospital. So I changed her. Her mind was still functional and my blood repaired her injuries. I brought her home with me, where she always belonged."

"But we never forgot you,” Mom interrupted, imploring me to believe her with her intensity and voice. “We wanted you to have a normal life for as long as you could, but selfishly, we always wanted you here. We've watched you grow up from a distance, always there but out of sight."

"And now I'm here,” I murmured.

But for how long, I couldn't say. I hadn't counted on this scenario.

Trent exchanged a look with Luca.

"Trent told us about Caleb,” Luca said, his voice remaining strictly neutral. “And I've spoken with Sam about it as well. You understand that the bond could potentially pass, given time especially."

"Excuse me?” The switch in topics, especially since I hadn't spoken of Caleb, came out of left field.

I glowered at Trent. He didn't even bother trying to look guilty. He'd read my thoughts again.

"If you want to return, we understand completely,” Luca spoke carefully. “But if it's meant to be, what will some time here hurt? There is so much for you to learn, and we've waited so long."

"Things are different now,” I confessed.

I had my daydream all wrong. My Father wasn't pond scum and my Mother wasn't dead—not really. Surreal didn't even begin to cover how I felt about what had transpired in the last few minutes. As strange as it was to see them together, it was even more bizarre thinking of them as my parents. Their youthful appearance alone was staggering.

"I'll think about it,” I agreed and they smiled with obvious relief, “But I need to make an important phone call."

"Absolutely.” Mom smiled happily, her eyes shifting to a vivid leafy shade of green. “I have so much I want to share with you, Emma. So much that I want to tell you now that you're here. Your Father has waited twenty years for this moment."

I smiled distractedly while glaring at Trent. If looks could kill, he'd have died twice. Once again, he had invaded my privacy.

I lifted my hand in his direction.

"You promised. Now hand me the phone."

I took the cell into my room, the plush soft carpet wrapping around my socked feet. I dialed the number, adrenaline making my heart flutter nervously.

The phone rang over and over; no one answered or clicked over. I tried again—same thing.

I spent the next hour repeating the cycle, waiting a few minutes and trying again. I started to panic, worry making me think the worst. I was about to give up when I remembered Sarah.

I rushed to the closet, digging the folded piece of paper out of my jeans and dialing the number. She picked up on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Sarah?” I asked, sighing in relief. Her voice was so comforting. “It's Emma."

"Emma, you made it!” I closed my eyes, visualizing her perfect face.

"I did, there is so much to tell everyone. That's why I'm calling, actually. I can't get through to Caleb. Is everything okay there? He's all right, isn't he?"

The other end of the phone went silent and I thought we'd lost the connection.

"Sarah?"

"I'm here.” Her voice was torn and sad, even over the line. I heard her take a deep breath. “Caleb won't answer the phone, Emma. It's really not fair for me to be the one to tell you this. He should do the responsible thing and talk to you personally. But since he won't, I suppose it's fallen to me."

"What are you talking about?” I asked uneasily, standing utterly still, a sense of dread settling into my chest.

"Caleb has informed everyone that he's not having you back. After Parker attacked you...Caleb took that really badly, Emma. He doesn't want you to try and contact him. He thinks it best that you sever the bond while it's so new, so there is less pain for both of you."

"Can that even be done?” I whispered brokenly, my entire body erupted into uncontrollable trembling, goose bumps covering my bare skin.

"It's not unheard of,” she answered quietly, her voice breaking slightly. “I have your ring. He wants me to get it back to you through Sam. I'm so sorry, Emma. You have no idea how upset we all are over this, how angry some of us are."

"I don't understand,” I said, voice cracking. Tears welled, escaping freely, a trail of sadness streaming down my face.

"Caleb says he can't protect you as well as the DeViard's can. He really does believe he is doing right by you. He swears he only wants you to be happy and safe.” She added softly, sounding close to tears, “He's even convinced Derek."

"Can I still call you, to see how things are?” I choked. I forced my hand against my mouth, muffling the sound of my crying.

"You can call me anytime, Emma. I consider you my friend, no matter what happens."

I cleared my throat, forcing back a sob. “Thanks Sarah. I'll call you later, then."

"Anytime, Emma, I mean it. Take care of yourself."

I dropped the phone, collapsing to my knees. My crying quiet at first, growing louder. I didn't want anyone to hear me. I wasn't ashamed or embarrassed; I was hurt, devastated and overcome.

My chest felt as if it caved in on itself, the pain growing more intense, twisting and breaking. The organ known for keeping your body alive served an all together different function I'd been blissfully unaware of—rending horrific pain.

I crawled to the bed, climbing onto the mattress and resting on top of the comforter. I pulled a pillow into my face and cried. Ragged wails of suffering and anguish blessedly muffled against the down feathers.

[Back to Table of Contents]

My head was throbbing, forehead knotted in concentration and attentiveness. I pushed the energy outward, focusing not on where it lay inside but rather where I wanted it to go. The tingling built, distracting me until I forced it into the background—pushing harder, extending myself outward.

The bowling ball floated midair, spinning from the force I was emitting, manipulated to hover over the ground. I pushed more energy out, bringing it to eye level. The ball swayed, shifting from side to side, up and down.

I kept it aloft for several minutes, feeling the humming began to wane, signaling it was time to stop. I sent the ball down, using my hand as a guide and grinding my teeth together. It landed in the ground with a dull thud, sinking into the soft grass.

I threw my head back and closed my eyes, sighing loudly as I rubbed my temples. Each time was easier, but control was essential, and I had issues with a roving mind.

The sky was baby blue overhead, the sun covered by dense clouds. I breathed in the sweet air, so fresh, so different. The cool breeze revived me, giving me additional energy.