Page 26 of Retribution

“According to the healer’s measurements, she has about four weeks, give or take,” Maggie informed the room, and I nearly stumbled to the ground. Four weeks was so soon. “She seems to be following the timeline of her wolf in development.”

“But the development is fine?” Ellis asked quickly, and I was thankful for it because I couldn’t force the words out myself.

“She’s perfect,” Maggie answered with a giant smile.

What did all this mean for us? For whatever crazy ride we were all on? I wish I knew. I wish I had a timeline written in front of me with a key like one of James’ maps on the library wall. Instructions onhowandwhenclearly listed for me to follow. But there was no timeline. No key. No instructions on how to keep them safe.

Liberty lay exhausted in front of us, dark circles under her eyes, her black hair with those crazy blonde tips lay against the couch's pillow. She was still every bit as beautiful now as she was when I saw her in the alley for the first time. The urge to protect her at all costs was stronger now, though. More was at stake, more to lose than just her life.

Justice laid his head against her, his yellow eyes paling as he relaxed into her, relief from the fear I know he felt, we felt, ebbing away. “I was a – a-” I knew he was searching for a more modern term. He was coming slowly to the new age of things. “A dick. I was arrogant and foolish to think you were anything less than perfect.”

Lenin strolled in, a tea tray in his hand. He sat it on the table in front of him, and not even understanding the full context of the conversation, added, “You can be arrogant. This is the truth. But you have done well.” He picked up a saucer of cookies and a teacup, the fine china looking incredibly small in his large hands, and offered it to Liberty. When she took the offering, he turned to everyone else, completely oblivious to all that he had missed. “Does anyone want some tea?”

Chapter 12

LENIN

I madetrue on my promise to worship Liberty in the garden under the moonlight. Her body a masterpiece of curves that I could not help but lust over. The moonlight recharged her, made her cheeks flush, her body energized, her power heightened. I knew soon she would be ready, ready for what was to come. When she could absorb no more of what the moon had to offer, I ignored her objections and carried her to bed.

Tea. I needed tea. My mind was a jumble, and I ached for the clarity that the leaves and herbs brought me. I longed to rid my mind of my vision. To free my heart of the knowledge of what was to come. It would break her if she knew, and though it was weeks away, I already could not handle the ache her heart would hold.

Fire.

Smoke.

Ashes sifting through Liberty’s fingers.

The building crumbling around us.

No. If I did not acknowledge the vision, then maybe it would not come to fruition. But I knew I could not neglect the images the fates had gifted me. It was there to be seen. The torture of knowledge was mine.

I searched the cupboard for the perfect cup to match how I was feeling. To match the desperation I was feeling. To eliminate how unprepared I was for the viewing that had happened tonight. There were times when seeing the future was a blessing, but tonight I felt cursed. Cursed with words I could not speak and warnings I could not give.

I pushed a teacup aside, reaching for another. You would think with the vast collection of cups the previous owner had accumulated, I would find one, just one to portray the mood that has hovered over me. I reached as far back as the cabinet went, grabbing a cup blindly from the back and pulling it forward.

Floral with gold accents.

I clenched my fist without thinking further, crushing the floral piece to shards so fine it was nearly sand in my hand. I opened my fist, watching the fine pieces fall to the floor. My palm bled, blood dripping down my wrist and trailing down my forearm.

“That was antique.”

I spun around, coming face to face with Ellis. My heart pounded, but my words froze. I didn’t know what to say. I breathed in and licked my lips, then said, “I had lost my temper.”

He laughed. Always the one to laugh. “It appears so. You’re up late.”

I did not feel like sharing about the copulation under the moon, and I suspected that the vampires did not require details of such things. “I was making tea.”

“I noticed.”

“You are awake as well,” I pointed out, trying to deflect from myself and the mess I just made.

“I was working on something,” he admitted, his fingers scratching the back of his neck. Do you- do you want to see?”

He seemed unsure of the offer, but I was curious why he had come in so dirty in the late-night hours. I approached the sink, turning on water before rinsing the blood off my hand and arm. “I will clean this when I return.” I glanced at the kettle on the stove. “I cannot be long.”

“Only a minute or two.” He turned his back to me, and I closed my eyes, ignoring the pain I felt inside my soul before I followed behind him.

We traveled over the grass and through the garden to a faintly lit work shed that was nearly missed. The vines and brush had overgrown most of the building, and I suspect that if it weren’t for Ellis, the door itself would not be accessible. He opened the corroding door, the hinges rusted and the wood slivering off.

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