Page 102 of Edge of Darkness (Night Prowler 4)
Then he found the letter.
Left on top of the Steinway where they’d made love, it was folded in thirds and enclosed in an envelope that also held the necklace she always wore, the fine chain with her parents’ gold wedding rings.
The letter tore his heart out of his chest, ripped it in two, and left it broken and bloody on the floor.
Then, when he found the door to the woodshed open, the plastic chest inside empty, the pain turned to panic, which turned to cold, limb-numbing horror.
Because he realized exactly what Ember was going to do.
Dear Christian,
As I write those words, I’m smiling. People use the word “dear” all the time without really thinking about what it means, but that is exactly what you are to me: dear. Beloved. I never imagined I would feel that for anyone, much less someone as amazing as you. You told me I make you feel free, but you gave me something even better, something I will never be able to adequately express—at least not in words.
You showed me the way out of hell.
For that, I will love you forever.
I want you to know I realize this won’t be easy for you. I know how much this will hurt, how you’ll blame yourself, how you’ll wish you could have done something differently. And I’m sorry. Please believe me when I say that, because it’s true. But you are strong and I am so, so weak—you will survive this. Please forgive me. Please live your life and find someone who deserves you, someone kind, and beautiful, and unbroken. Don’t let the memory of me ruin even a single day.
Because this is the only thing I can do that will make up for everything bad that came before. I know that now. And because of you—because you loved me—I’m not afraid.
You make me unafraid. Do you have any idea what a gift that is?
It’s beyond a gift. It’s a blessing.
You found me in the dark, you shone your light on me, and you made me feel beautiful, for the very first time in my life. I want to say thank you for that. I want to say it to your face and then kiss you, but this letter will have to do. Know that if I could, right now I’d be kissing you, because that’s one of the best things I ever knew.
Humans can be bonded mates, too—I wasn’t sure if you knew that. I suppose it doesn’t happen very often, but it can. I’m proof of it. There is nothing in this life or any other I wouldn’t do for you. I love you, and all the broken things inside me love you, too. I’m sorry now that I didn’t say it out loud, that I didn’t tell you how I felt over and over. You are the dream that I didn’t deserve, but am so grateful for.
I love you, Christian. I love you.
That is the one thing I got right. Loving you made all the rest of it—the years of darkness and hell—worthwhile.
Even if we’d only had a single day together, it still would have been worth it.
If I believed in heaven, I’d say I hope to see you there one day. But I know there are no angels on clouds, no cherubs, or singing choirs waiting for me. I don’t know what will come once I’ve left this life behind, but in my heart of hearts I hope it’s just…peace. Quiet. An end to all the pain and madness.
Only one thing will never end: my love for you. No matter where I go after I’m dead, you will be with me. You will be the flame in my soul that never burns out.
Always. Forever. Until the end of time.
Ember
Sitting across from him at a small wooden table in the quiet, shadowed courtyard in the back of the budget motel, the albino was hulking and silent, staring at Thirteen with a narrowed gaze that held all the geniality of a dragon about to spew fire on a group of screaming villagers.
He’d caught the albino’s attention with a few well-chosen words. He’d walked right up to him in the lobby when he and his black-clad minions had arrived a few moments ago, looked into his scarred, ghost-pale face and said in a placid voice, “I understand you’re a priest. I’d like to make a confession. Involving a dead goat.”
Then Thirteen had smiled at the albino, a mild curve of his lips that was non-threatening and sincere, but also managed to convey he knew that they both knew exactly who should really be making confessions involving dead goats, and perhaps they should have a chat about that.
The albino hadn’t said a word to him, or to his minions. He’d simply looked at him a moment—looked into him, as if trying to slip inside his body using only his colorless eyes—then jerked his chin at his head minion—leave us. The head minion and the others immediately and silently had. Then the albino had jerked his chin toward the opposite side of the lobby at the swinging glass doors that led to the back courtyard, where they now sat across from each other in semi-darkness under the spreading branches of a ficus tree festooned with drooping strands of tiny white lights.
Because the albino didn’t seem like the chatty type, Thirteen decided to break the ice by getting directly to the point. “I’m called Doe. I’m a hunter. Like you.”
If the albino had eyebrows, they would have risen at those words, but since he appeared to be totally hairless—lacking even eyelashes—Thirteen only knew the albino was surprised when three sharp creases appeared in his white, unlined forehead.
Thirteen shrugged. “I can tell by looking at people. You’re either one of two things: a meat-eater or the meat.”
The albino absorbed that in silence.
