Soul and Blade (22 page)

24. ALL OF ME

I
glance about the scary church they call an abbey from the bench against the wall. The whole place creeps me out. “What’s an abbey?” I ask softly.

Cami gives me a cockeyed look. “Why do you think I know that?”

“You’re British.”

She rolls her eyes. “Funny. I think it means something big or important. Like more than a regular church.”

It’s massive and in downtown London, so that makes me dislike it even more.

I don’t love cities. I would go back to Montana in a heartbeat. In fact, I intend on going back to Montana to snuff out a heartbeat.

I swallow, realizing I just plotted murder in a church that is so important they call it a different name.

I run my hands under my pits and wince, feeling the sweat building up again.

My only saving grace is that the noise of the traffic doesn’t filter in here. The large doors keep everything out. I can hear my heart beating like it’s trying to escape.

“At least you aren’t getting married in here. This place is intense.”

I nod, agreeing. We are in the church next door to the one I am getting married in.

We could have gotten married in this one, as Dash is a member of the Order of the Bath, but he knew I would be intimidated to get married where all the royals get married. I know Dash is trying to spare me the intensity of a wedding from hell, but he doesn’t realize the one we are about to have is just about as bad as I can imagine. In his mind Saint Margaret’s, Westminster, is a small church.

To me it’s imposing and called a cathedral.

“You all right?” Cami asks in a whisper.

“I am about to have a stroke just thinking about going over there. But I’m good.” I nod and lift my brows, hoping someone is thinking about getting me a paper bag.

“You looked really weird last night at the practice. Angie and I think you might need a Valium or some Ecstasy.”

I nod again. “Valium might not be bad,” I mutter as I gawk, mouth agape and all. The art and the vast columns in each row are intensely beautiful, and they do bring about a spiritual feeling in me, a pious feeling. The ceiling may still make me cry. I can’t stop staring at it. It is someone’s version of heaven.

Angie walks briskly to me with a glass of water. “Why are ya sweating again?” she asks and hands me the water.

I drink like I have been in the desert for a hundred years. “He knows I hate being the focus. I hate being center stage. I wanted to elope in Vegas.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Saint Margaret’s is a lovely church with proper stained glass and columns. It’s stunning. Ya won’t get that in Vegas. Ya won’t get that organist in Vegas either. She’s mighty good.”

I sigh and wonder what the deal is with that. “Why do people care who the organist is? People have already complimented me on our organist.”

“It’s a thing apparently,” Cami offers weakly.

“Look, the royals are showing up in droves out there,” Angie squeals softly.

My stomach tightens as I look and see the hordes of fancy English people showing up. We are across the way in Westminster Abbey, awaiting our moment to walk across the garden to the front doors of Saint Margaret’s.

I take a deep breath and remind myself I will have Antoine, Mrs. Starling, and three guys from my early years in the Marine Corps to sit behind me, and Angie and Cami next to me. Serving as real seat fillers on my side, however, are members of the Secret Service, since the president of the United States is the man walking me down the aisle.

That makes me laugh a little as we watch hundreds of people milling about outside. The guests all have ornate hats. People keep calling them fascinators, but they are hats, with feathers. It’s another thing to add to my Google list.

“This is over the top and silly. We might as well be rock stars. I can’t believe the president is walking me down the aisle.”

Angie cocks an eye at me. “The president isn’t even a big deal here. He’s the least famous person, besides me and Cami. So far I have heard that ya are the next American sweethearts. Ya are apparently the kindest girl in all of America, saving animals and helping old ladies with their gardens.”

I glance up at Angie with an exasperated sigh. “They talked to Mrs. Starling?”

She rolls her eyes. “Would ya try to put it into perspective? This is making ya as famous and fabulous as Dash is. He is coming up to yer level now.”

I cover my eyes. “Oh my God.”

“Don’t touch zat face!”

I jump up and lower my hands. Angie snickers and I tremble, trying not to notice the sweat under my arms.

“I told you no sitting!” Georges barks and goes over the dress again. He tugs at it and swipes his hands along the pleats. He’s seen me completely naked, completely terrified, and now completely ready. He lifts my arms, and the girl who did our makeup but never speaks spritzes something under them. It smells like lavender.

“You are like svan princess.” He’s on edge as much as I am but he’s better at hiding it.

Cami and Angie look beautiful in their lavender and lace dresses. The other bridesmaids flit back into the main entrance of the church, holding champagne and laughing with smugness in their voices. They all still hate me, I think, despite my orphan story.

Lady Townshend comes with a flute for me. Since she discovered I am actually the greatest American girl in the entire world, she has been kinder to me. My being walked down the aisle by the president is about the best part for her.

Another girl hands a flute to Georges as Lady Townshend lifts her glass. “To the greatest designer in all of Europe, or the colonies.”

Angie snorts but lifts her glass. Georges interrupts. “And to zee most beautiful bride I have ever dressed. She is beautiful on zee outside, but more so on zee inside.”

Lady Townshend agrees wholeheartedly. “Yes, indeed.”

We all drink to my outer ugliness. Cami winks at me and Angie beams. But Dash’s cousins all act like I don’t exist. Even the horse-faced ones.

“Let’s get zee show on zee road.” Georges claps his hands.

“Yes. Quite. The organist will start in two minutes. So let’s all line up and take our places.” My future mother-in-law leans in to whisper, “Please do try to walk calmly, but try to get across the grounds to Saint Margaret’s with haste. Don’t pause for the crowds or ham it up in front of the cameras.” She says the name of the church as if it’s some random shop, before she leaves us there, heading for the door.

Georges shakes his head. “I vill see you in zee church.” He hugs me without really touching me and leaves abruptly.

I walk from the room, following the parade of lavender and lace across the grounds.

People clap as they see us leaving the grand abbey. I blush and try not to see them all as I make my way to the Secret Service, who are waiting in the wings of Saint Margaret’s for me. They grin and nod, saluting me. I salute as well, looking insane in my wedding dress as I of course catch a glimpse of the cameras stealing this moment for their papers.

One of the guardsmen walks me to the president, who is surrounded. They part like the sea for me, enveloping me in the circle.

As usual, the president is on his phone, but the moment he sees me, he stops and smiles, hanging up. “Spears, you look fabulous. I need to congratulate you on making some positive headlines for the American military.” He leans in and chuckles. “And really nice work on making Europe like one of our own. Even the French have nothing bad to say about this wedding.”

“You’re welcome, sir.” I feel weird saying that since it’s my wedding day.

The moment I clasp his arm, I have to struggle not to get emotional. I wasn’t prepared to feel excited about any of this, but I am now that we are down to the wire. I glance down at the white roses in my hands. “Thank you for doing this, sir.”

He nudges me, and when he speaks, I know he means what he says. “This is my absolute pleasure, Spears. You are a hero and you deserve to know that your country is your family.”

My eyes water until he points and shakes his head. “I think that little Frenchman will kill you if you cry. Man up.”

“Yes, sir.” I press my lips together, leaning and looking through the crowd at the ladies in lavender, who are completing their last few steps to the front of the church, escorted by the men who are walking them down the aisle. The organist changes her song to signal it is my turn, and suddenly I understand the hubbub over the whole thing. The music fills the old church, vibrating through us, even though we are still waiting outside.

I don’t want everyone to be staring at me, but I don’t get a second to think about it as the president starts walking us forward, through the massive doors. His hand trembles ever so slightly as we walk.

“Look at Dr. Dash’s face, Jane. That is a man in love if I ever saw one,” the president mutters softly.

I’m panicking a bit from the sea of faces in front of me, but the moment I look up and my stare reaches those green-gray eyes, I am captivated by it all. I forget every other person here.

As far as I am concerned, it is just the two of us. His look says it all.

I swear he wears every second of this insane journey on his face in varying expressions. His lips tremble but he doesn’t cry.

I’m sort of glad he doesn’t. I think I might not like that.

I don’t cry, mostly out of fear of Georges’ retaliation should my mascara run.

When we reach the end, the president gives me a slight peck on the cheek and whispers, “You got this, kid.” He shakes hands with Dash and walks to his seat on my side, surrounded by his agents.

Dash squeezes my gel-coated fingertips that hide the broken nail I got two weeks ago when a mag wouldn’t slide in nicely. His fingers tremble the way the president’s did. I’m worried that my hand doesn’t, but the moment I saw him, I knew I was making the right choice. I am making the right choice.

He is my future. He is giving me a name, a real one.

He is giving me a family, a real one. Even if they are crazy.

He is love.

Staring up into his green-gray eyes, I get lost.

I say the things I’m supposed to and put the ring on his finger after I let him do the same to me. And when it’s all over and the man says we can kiss, I’m a little afraid I won’t remember any of it. I spent it floating on the green-gray sea in Dash’s eyes.

But when his lips press against mine, I don’t care. Someone must be recording this.

“You are so beautiful, Mrs. Townshend,” he whispers into my cheek as he holds me tightly.

I exhale and the world stands still, just for me and the love I have found.

25. NO ANGELS

T
hrough the scope his face is not what I expected. He doesn’t trigger anything in me. What he did to me must have erased the memories on its own.

I was likely high and he probably knocked me out, hence the head wounds.

His chubby face bears a thick mustache that makes it seem even more round. His eyebrows are bushy and he has muddled eyes, maybe brown or hazel.

He’s walking the dog that hates humans and fire extinguishers. I take a breath and sigh it out slowly, squeezing the trigger. The pink mist fills the air behind him as he stops walking and falls back. The dog starts barking.

I exhale and let go of the things I carried around due to him. It’s a small gesture to the child I never got to give birth to. It’s a small bit of vengeance for the hundreds of babies he sold.

It is wrong to kill people, I know that. But it is right to remove a plague. People like him are a plague.

I push my sunglasses up the bridge of my nose and get up.

It’s exactly the sort of end I need before beginning again with Dash.

I walk back down to the Jeep and jump in. I don’t bother taking the
rifle apart just yet. I drive with the wind in my face and the feeling of ret
ribution snuggling me like mental illness might. It justifies what I’ve done.

Some might have said live and let live. But I am an “eye for an eye” sort of girl.

That is an opinion I hold dear to my heart.

A person who cuts someone open and steals the life she had inside of her deserves whatever end finds him.

I can’t have been the first girl he did it to. Maybe just the first to live. And I know I wasn’t the last.

I can’t help but wonder if I had changed my mind on him and decided to keep the baby. That is the thought that plagues me among everything else. Had I chosen to let that baby be the difference in the world for me? Had I decided enough was enough? Three years of living on the streets and doing terrible things was no longer feasible with that baby. Maybe I was about to change my whole life. Maybe I was pregnant from a boy I loved. More likely I was raped or someone paid me for the privilege of sex. There was no way to be sure.

But those maybes are long gone, dead with the girl who had them.

Her end was not fitting and this redemption was earned. She had been a victim her entire life.

I am the strength she never had. The strength she never had the chance to have.

My mind whispers, about her crawling from the window in the night and running away. And wanting to keep the baby. Maybe I have always been strong. I just didn’t know it when I was young.

Either way, the bad man is gone. One more weight has been lifted from my shoulders.

I head for the car I am meeting, the one that will take the rifle and machine it into something a little different.

When I land in DC again, I don’t go back to our house right away when I leave the airport. I drive to the brig no one knows about. I lift my ID, knowing I won’t have it after today. The guard at the front kiosk gives me a look.

“Master Sergeant—” I begin.

He salutes and chuckles, interrupting me. “I know who you are. My wife made me watch your wedding on TV. What are you doing back here?” he sounds baffled.

I lift an eyebrow. “Believe it or not, there is someone in here I have to say good-bye to.”

He passes me through the gate and watches as I drive on up to the parking spots.

The young guard at the door grins and lets me walk in after seeing my credentials. “I saw your wedding on TV. It was pretty cool to see one of us marrying one of them.” He nods at the window next to his head like he means someone specific.

“Thanks. I was hoping to see Rory Guthrie.”

He winces and looks down. “We aren’t allowed to let anyone see him, Master Sergeant.”

“Do I have to phone the president again?”

He lifts his face and wrinkles his nose. “Yes.”

I pull my phone out and press the capital
P
in the directory.

“Dammit, Spears. What in Sam Hill do you want? I am in the middle of a very important—”

“I am sorry, sir. I just want to say good-bye to him.” I cut him off.

“You need me to patch you through again?”

“Yes, sir.”

He sighs, clearly fed up with me. “Hand the guard the damned phone.” I pass the phone to the young man, who winces the entire time and hands it back, pressing the button. “You know the way.”

“Sorry.” I nod and bite my lip, walking to the elevator.

I flash my creds to the guards at the elevator and on the seventh floor. They aren’t the same ones as last time, so they give me a strange look. “Rory Guthrie,” I say with authority.

The door to his cell slides back, showing him in his Plexiglas confinement. He lifts his gaze as the door slips into the wall. A sick smile crests his lips as he sits up and nods. “I knew ya’d be back.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I did.” He’s turned paler in captivity—in a way that is unnatural. He sniffs and wipes his nose on his hand before he yawns and stretches.

I sit and look at him, wondering why I am here. He twitches and jerks, clearly strung out and suffering.

“What did ya find, Janey?” he asks like he is sane, but I can see that he is not.

“My grandpa was in the American military too.”

He winks. “Knew ya had skills for a reason.” He coughs and sits back. “How’s Antoine?”

“Good. He’s dating a girl.”

He chuckles. “Our boy is all grown up.”

“I’m retiring. Soon. I’m going to call the powers that be after I leave here and start the process.” I lean forward and tell him the thing I need to. “I forgive you, Rory.”

His cheeks flush a small amount and he laughs like he doesn’t understand. I’m sure he doesn’t. I stand up and nod. “I hope your life doesn’t drag on in here. I hope you get a terrible sickness and it doesn’t take too long to die,” I say softly and leave the area. He’s silent until I get back on the elevator and then he screams, but I don’t listen.

I leave and head for the next place on my list, getting a pilot and a helicopter at the far side of the base.

It takes a couple of hours by helicopter, but when we land I jump out and shout at the pilot, “Keep it running.” I run through the field and across the road into the old cemetery.

Her grave site is easy to find. I was probably the last person here. On the day she was buried, Rory, Antoine, and I were the only people at it.

I sigh when I see her, not happy, but peaceful. I drop to my knees and brush away the dead leaves and pick at the long grass so I can read the name better.

Samantha Barnes.

She was the first mind run in which bits and pieces of my real life mixed with hers. I sit quietly for a reflective moment, feeling like she is one of the few people who ever met me, the me that’s inside of me. I know I shared it with her before anyone else, except Dash of course.

Her mind run still torments me in the dark places of my mind. A serial killer who took the lives of children so she would have someone to love her. All she was ever looking for was acceptance. I know that feeling.

“I just wanted to say good-bye. I don’t know when I will be back. And I guess I wanted to thank you. From you I learned how to let love in. I learned how to forgive myself. It wasn’t easy, but you know that. You know it better than anyone.” I sigh and glance at the grass. “I think you felt like no one ever loved you. I think I felt that way too. But maybe in the dark, we loved each other like sisters. I think I will love you for the rest of my life. I hope you found something inside of me that took you to a good place, and I really hope the rest of your time is spent there. It’s a place Dash made for people like you and me. It’s a place where people like us find love and acceptance. And maybe one day I’ll see you there.” I stand, knowing I have one more place I need to see.

But the pilot can’t take me there, so I get him to drop me in Charlotte, North Carolina, at the airport.

I dial my phone as I walk to the counter to get a ticket.

“Where are you?” Dash sounds annoyed.

“North Carolina.”

He sighs. “You’re working today?”

“No.” I smile. “Not really. I am going to Seattle quick. I’ll be back tomorrow. Meet me at the airport in Baltimore?”

“Fine, but there better be a bloody good explanation when you get home.”

“There will be.” I sigh. “Kiss Binxy for me.”

“Not a chance. I will feed him and possibly risk a pat on the back or behind the ears.”

“Go for the side of his face and brush upward along his whiskers. He likes that the most.” I hang up and laugh as I head for the ticket counter.

I catch the last flight to Seattle, arriving around midnight Eastern Time.

When we land, I book my return flight so I have a four-hour stay and head for the car rental.

The drive to Tanner is a short one, only forty minutes. I head right for the cemetery where I know she’s buried, next to her grandfather and her aunt. Almost all of Ashley Potter’s family is still alive and well. I park the car, overlooking the dark cemetery, and push my seat back. It doesn’t take me long to pass out completely.

Birds chirping and cool morning air wake me from the slumber. I hadn’t intended to sleep all night and have missed my flight home, but I must have needed it.

I get out of the car and stroll up the dew-covered grass under the canopy of the swaying trees to where her grave is covered in fresh flowers and tended, the exact opposite of Samantha Barnes. She was a true victim in everything. My ex-partner, Rory, tortured her in a cell before he murdered her. She was strong, strong enough to survive his version of death. Strong enough to hang on to allow me to run her mind and bring him before a form of justice.

She is still one of the strongest girls I have ever met.

I sit on my butt and speak softly to the angel engraved upon the headstone. “I’m so sorry.”

This isn’t something I have ever done before her and Samantha. But I feel the pieces of them floating around inside me still.

A chill shivers through me as a thousand pictures roam my mind, just behind my eyes. “I forgave Rory yesterday. I let it all go. But the one piece hanging on is you. I’m so sorry.” Tears flood my eyes at the images of the girls in the cells. “I came to apologize for not seeing it soon enough. I failed you and the other girls. I should have seen him for what he was. He was my partner. This is partially my fault and I won’t ever forget that. But I came to ask for your forgiveness. I don’t know if I believe you can hear me or not. I won’t pretend to know anything. But I am sorry.” I get up and offer a small wave. “Thank you for teaching me that letting go is better than forgetting. I don’t need to forget, I need to let go and forgive.”

I turn, just as a breeze ripples through the trees, shaking them and their leaves. It’s warm and comforts me. Even if it’s just a breeze and nothing more, it is a sign I am on the right track.

The flight back to the East Coast is painful after missing my flight and
sleeping at a graveyard. I am tired of flying and twitching like Rory was.

When I arrive at the airport finally, Dash awaits me looking none too pleased, but I don’t care because I am dying to kiss him. “What were you doing in Seattle?”

I bite my lip before I wince and answer.

The names I say make him shudder and anger flashes in his eyes. “You know if anyone saw you—”

“I know.”

“You are not Jane Doe anymore. You have a name and a reputation.”

I lean in and force him to kiss me. He wraps his arm around my waist and sweeps me out the door to the car. “You ready?” he asks.

I nod, kissing him on the cheek.

“What did you do to him?” he asks.

“He was going to get away with it. The charges were never going to be what they deserved to be. He was able to pay all the back taxes, so his sentencing would be minimal.”

He gives me a sideways look. “No more of this, Jane. I am not kidding.”

“I know,” I repeat and shake my head. “I don’t have anyone else on my list.”

“The fact you
have
a bloody list is insane. You sound crazy.” He sighs as we walk out to where Nichols is waiting.

“Mrs. Townshend, how are you?”

“I am well, Nichols. How are you?” I hug him, it’s my new thing. I am the queen of awkwardly hugging the staff, as Dash’s mom calls them. I don’t melt into people but I am trying.

He chuckles and pats my back like a grandfather might do. “I am well.” We get in and butterflies dance in my stomach.

Dash leans in, kissing me again and breathing in a deep breath of me. “My cousin asked Angie to marry him today.”

“Why did you tell me?” I gasp. “She’s going to kill you.” My phone buzzes seconds later. I lift it so he can see it’s Angie calling, almost as if she heard him tell me. “Hello?” I stare into the screen as I answer the FaceTime.

“
Jane
! He popped the question!”

“Oh my God, what?” I try very hard to be surprised, but she knows straightaway.

“Did Dash tell you? What a fucker.”

I snort and ogle the ring. “Congratulations.” She wiggles her fingers on the screen, hardly even showing me the massive rock because she’s moving so much. It’s so big I catch glimpses of it anyway. “It’s beautiful, Ang. I love it.”