My Soul Immortal (25 page)

My shoulders tighten. “Vita’s on the move. I won’t let her near you.”

Her attention returns to my hand. “It’s you we need to worry about,” she murmurs.

“Not true. The thought of the two of you meeting…” A shiver races through me. With a deep intake of air, I continue, “I was attempting to figure out a way to leave, but who would protect you?”

Leah’s wide eyes snap to mine, moisture pooling along their rims. She blinks away the tears. Her jaw stiffens, and she lifts her chin. “You want to go after her?” she asks through clenched teeth.

“If it keeps you safe, of course. Sitting here waiting is driving me crazy. If I could trust that you’d be out of harm’s way here with Grady, I’d hunt her down. Kill her myself…”

“Absolutely not! Heroic suicidal attempts might be romantic in novels, but not in real life. Are you insane?”

I wince.

“If something happened to you, there’s no getting you back. You’d be gone forever. At least if it’s me that dies, we have a chance of some kind of happily ever after.”

“I don’t want to get into this, not now.” I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose between my fingers. “Artagan said—”

“You know nothing about this man, but you’re putting all your faith in him. I don’t trust him!”

I huff. “I do. He’s helping us. Give him a chance. He’s the only family I have.”

“Family.” She scoffs. “Remember who he is, what he does.”

“Artagan’s different from the other members of the council. He lived a normal life before becoming what he is now.”

Leah nods reluctantly. “Something about him frightens me,” she whispers. “Please be careful.”

I can see her soul through her eyes, and it’s shrouded in fear. “I don’t know what else to do,” I say, the ice thawed from my voice.

Leah shifts to peer up into my face, and ever so gently, her fingertips caress the wrinkles along my brow. “It’s going to be all right. I feel it.”

The forever optimist.
I open my mouth to criticize, then I stop short. In place of using spirited words, I put my arms around her and hold her tight. “It has to be. Losing you isn’t an option.”

Leah manages to persuade me to carry on with the evening’s plans as normal. Over the ticking hours, my face becomes a composed mask. Attempting to fight the paranoia brewing inside of me, I smile and joke, but my tranquil nature is all a sham. Twilight comes, but Artagan’s call does not.

I plod through the maze of crooked streets, a half step behind Grady and Leah. My nerves are raw. My eyes dart around, taking in every movement.

In stark contrast, Leah seems relaxed. Instead of concentrating on the turmoil orbiting around us, she’s lost in the beauty that is York, babbling on about tapered streets and the medieval architecture. I want to shake her and yell at her that Death—or at least his daughter—is coming to greet her with a smile, but I keep my mouth shut. Besides, Grady’s already noticing my surge of protectiveness.

At the next corner, we turn right into the Shambles. The overhangs of half-timbered storefronts, reaching out to one another over the divide, darken the cobblestone alleyway. The meager light that creeps into this cramped space leaves the alley gloomy. Dampness clings to the air. It’s a scene right out of one of Leah’s horror flicks. I half expect Vita to jump out from a dark corner.

Five blocks down, Grady slows to a stop. We’re standing in front of the Golden Monk. The building looks as if it was crammed into the confined space as an afterthought. Not a lot has changed—the scenery is still more for locals than for the tourists.
I wonder if they want their old dart back.
I chuckle under my breath.

Laughter overflows from the open door. Footfalls approach us from behind. Leah turns, and a grin spreads across her face. I slide into her view, becoming a barricade. Two figures walk out of the darkness. My hand slips into my pocket and grips the bag. The plastic crinkles.

“Everything’s okay,” Leah whispers in my ear.

She tosses me a warm, reassuring smile. I reassert my calm mask.

Grady steps forward, greeting them warmly. Excitement surfaces in his voice, and he introduces the duo as James and Charlotte.

Charlotte is small, slender, and attractive. Her coffee-colored hair is cut at an angle around her oval face, and one side is tucked behind her ear. Her golden hazel eyes dance with sparks of mischief. From the goofy grin plastered across Grady’s lips and the way he shuffles his feet back and forth nervously, Leah’s instincts are correct. Grady likes Charlotte more than he lets on.

Next to Charlotte is her brother, James, a stocky guy closer to my apparent age. His expression suggests that he has the same disposition as his sister, although a bit more subdued. James smiles, and his eyes drift to Leah. His gaze lingers on her face a bit too long for casual friendliness. I stiffen, and my arm tightens around Leah’s waist. When his eye meets mine, he looks away.
That’s right, buddy. Move along.

After the usual pleasantries, we move our conversation into the pub. Patrons crowd around the counter. The England fans sport red jerseys, while the Aussies wear gold—no commingling of colors. Every eye is glued to the TV hanging over the bar.

James leads the way through the crowd, finding an empty table next to the bar. As Grady sits, taking the seat next to Charlotte, the crowd erupts into shouts of victory and moans as Britain scores. “Honestly, I don’t get it. This has got to be the stupidest sport on the planet,” Grady says over the clamor.

A pin-dropping quiet settles over the pub. Angry eyes swing in our direction, all centered on Grady.

“Do you have a death wish?” I hiss just loud enough for Grady to hear.

“Don’t. Diss. Cricket,” Charlotte says, enunciating each word.

“Listen to the lady, ya bloody Yank,” a redheaded man sitting at the end of the bar yells, slurring each word. “Or go back to that arse-slapping game you call football.”

“Ah, that’s not what I meant,” Grady backpedals, panic on his face.

Charlotte glares at him, her seemingly fun-loving nature gone. “So that was meant to be a joke? You think we Brits are funny?”

I can’t tell if Charlotte’s toying with him or if she’s serious. Either way, she has Grady on the ropes.

“Ahhh, no…?” Slack-jawed, Grady stares at Charlotte.

“Would you like a little help? You have no game,” I say, leaning over to Grady’s ear, and then I grin to lessen the insult.

“Just like cricket,” Grady whispers.

“You’re on your own,” I grumble. I lean back, resting my arm along the rail of Leah’s chair; I fake engrossment in the game. With each passing moment, displaying the image of perfect composure becomes more difficult.

“No one’s ever listening until you make a mistake.” Grady grins in Charlotte’s direction. She laughs, and Grady’s smile grows wider. “If you like one-liners, I’m full of them. Two wrongs are only a beginning. Or this one’s my favorite—he who laughs lasts thinks slowest.”

Charlotte laughs again, followed by her brother.

“See, I knew Charlotte was the smart one of her family.”

His comment earns him a wink.
Huh, maybe Grady has game after all.

The meals come, and the drinks flow. While Grady seems to have dug himself out of his trouble, I’m wading into my own. Every time I reach for the silent bulge stuffed in my shirt pocket, Leah shifts comfortably in her seat. Finally, I remove my cell and glare at the incoming-calls list. With a sigh, I place the phone on the table. Twelve hours, and still no call. Artagan must know something by now.

Minutes become an hour, then two. The conversation hops from light topic to light topic, but I pay little attention to the chatter.

My cell vibrates, scooting across the table toward the edge. I grab it just before it tumbles to the floor. Casting Leah a sideward glance, I stand and excuse myself then slip into the rowdy crowd and out into the night.

I flip open the phone. “Where is she? Where’s Vita?”

“You don’t have to worry about her.” The solemn edge to Artagan’s tone takes away any comfort the words should give.

“Why? What’s going on? Has she lost interest?”

“You’re fine. She’s back in Australia. I’ll send her to Canada or maybe Russia next. Enjoy your vacation. I’ve got a job to do,” he says impudently.

“So, you’re saying we’re safe?”

“I don’t recommend you heading back to Portland, but yes, you’re safe. Now, I’m working.”

Click.

“Hello?”

I get nothing but static. Artagan’s gone.

I stare, unblinking, at the phone. Regardless of Artagan’s unexpected behavior, relief washes over me.
Safe.
I turn to find Leah standing at the pub’s entrance, an unreadable expression etched on her face. I close the gap between us and take her hand.

Her eyes shift away, staring at her shoes. “So what’s the verdict?”

“Vita’s no longer a concern. For now, anyway.” I look up at the twinkling stars overhead to avoid meeting her searching eyes.

She steps in and rests her cheek against my chest, and I wind my arms around her. “That’s good news. What’s wrong, then?”

“Nothing to do with us. It’s just Artagan was unfriendly.”

“Has he been like that before?”

“No. Not like this, but he sounded in a hurry, like he was fitting me in between jobs.”

She winces.

“I know, but it is what he is. I’ve just got to get used to the fact that my only family is a wielder of death.” I chuckle coldly.

She rests her head on my chest. “Thank you.”

I cock my head so I can look at her face. “For what?”

“For telling me.”

I smile. “I’m doing pretty good, huh?”

“Very good.” She kisses my chin.

“We should get back. Grady’s already concerned about my behavior today. No need to give him more ammunition.”

“I’ll just tell him we had a fight,” she says, snuggling her face into the crook of my neck.

I grimace. “What did I do this time?”

“Nothing. It was all me. I completely overreacted.” She giggles. Her warm breath caresses my skin.

I can’t help but laugh.

Inside, we reach the table just as Australia scores, tying the game. I groan while the handful of gold shirts bursts into excitement.

Grady stands, throwing both arms over his head. “Score!”

“What are you doing?” Charlotte whispers loudly.

“But they scored,” he argues.

As I step behind Grady, I place my hands on his shoulders then force him back into the chair. “Wrong team, mate. That was Australia.”

“How can you tell? They’re all wearing white.” Grady heaves a defeated sigh.

Charlotte grins. “Cor! I’ve a brilliant idea. There’s a game at the York Cricket Club tomorrow night. James is playing. How about we all go? Surely, between Jack and me, we can teach you a thing or two.”

Grady grimaces.

I speak up. “It sounds fun, but you’ll be on your own. Leah and I won’t be able to make it. I’m taking her to the Cotswolds tomorrow. She’s wanted to go for quite a while.”

Leah’s sparkling eyes snap to me. A new excitement pulses behind them. “We’re going to Lidcombe?”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“A
re we there yet?” Leah asks, practically bouncing in the passenger seat. Grady generously loaned us his car because his work schedule demanded he stay in York. I cannot say I am disappointed—I love having Leah all to myself again.

“Not quite.” I peer over at her from the corner of my eye and laugh. She’s a bundle of excitement and nerves.

The woodlands dwindle into a patchwork of rolling countryside intermingled with twisting stone walls. When the road hooks to the left, I see them perched on a knoll fifty paces off the road—the pair of elms, aged, weathered, and twisted by the centuries.

“I know this place,” Leah whispers, her eyes fixed on the elms.

A small grin plays along my lips. I stop the car on the gravel shoulder. Although this place has changed, she still recognizes it. “Wind Rush House is just over the next rise. Come. I’ll show you.” I give her knee a reassuring squeeze then climb from the car. After opening Leah’s door, I take her hand and lead her toward the trees.

The breeze chases us up the hill, feathering grasses and carrying the aromas of earth and sunbaked evergreen from the nearby woodlands. Under the elms, shafts of light break through the green canopy. Interlaced branches sway with the breeze, revealing glimpses of the cloudless sky. Nestled in the hollow, the mellow gold of the mansion glints in the sunshine.

“It’s the spot from my first dream, where you told me you’d find me and asked me to wait for you.”

My smile fades into a tight line, and my eyes narrow. “That dream was here?”

“Yes. Except I was looking down on everything, like I was flying above it all.” Above us, the birds flutter through the branches, singing their songs. “Like one of those birds,” she adds.

“You never told me about that dream.”

Leah shifts, keeping her gaze on the elms. “Another day, please?”

“All right. I’ll wait until you’re ready. The past can be difficult to talk about.” I capture her fingers and lift her hand to my lips.