Page 8 of Unshakable

Chapter Three

Henri found a run-downmotel near the interstate and checked in for at least one night, likely many more. After brokering an uneasy understanding with Toula, he felt compelled to seek and find a way to keep her granddaughters safe.

He’d also been compelled to kiss her when he left, but this hadn’t exactly been a romantic encounter. He held back, even if she felt his urge. Her aura had warmed to him the longer he stayed, his version of empathy, and she’d warmed to him, too.

Spilling secrets had a way of making fast friends.

Assistance like she needed had never been his role or even a Grigori role. Their kind didn’t come with a field manual, only a short list of dos and don’ts. By and large, they did not concern themselves with human relationships because the fewer who knew about their existence, the better.

Grigori got themselves into trouble a long time ago.

Michael had already taken care of disclosures in this case, so drawing close to Toula took little effort. How often had he wished he’d taken the time to explain all about the Grigori to Sam’s mother and allowed her to make a more informed decision?

Too many to count.

He locked himself into his room and tried to relax, going over their conversation again. Did he ultimately seek redemption in this arrangement?

He didn’t believe in the redemption theory as Michael had presented the idea to him. Not word for word, because their language proved tricky, and the language wasn’t original, but translated at least once, probably more.

Michael had schooled him about the theory in his rush to educate him about the finer points of Grigori life. To convince him to live life the same way, perhaps.

“Simply put,” he’d stated one night in a Miami restaurant, “a Grigori is born, lives, and dies outside of redemption. He’s earthbound, sent In the Beginning to help humans learn survival skills. Grigori were to watch, to gently guide, to teach.”

Henri knew as much. They were not to do for humans. Not to give them harmful information. And definitely not to fall in love with human females and have children with them.

Henri had grown tired of Michael’s ramblings quickly. “Yes, and when this inevitably happened, the choice separated them from heaven, from eternity. What of it?”

“The theory says an individual Grigori will receive only one opportunity to do so much good he will overcome the barrier between heaven and earth and earn his redemption. One glorious chance to be redeemed, so we must perpetually look for these openings.”

“Bull.” He shook the notion off now as he had then. The idea of a being who can live hundreds of years having only one opportunity to do good for humankind made him laugh. He tried to do good every day. Why wouldn’t he?

Earning a ticket into heaven didn’t work for mankind and he didn’t think redemption worked that way for Grigori, either. Each time they created the next generation of hybrids, they became more human and less divine.

Michael Midadel didn’t do anything without a selfish reason. He hadn’t known this about Michael early in their friendship and quickly learned his manipulations by the seat of his pants.

Tonight, as he and Toula parted company, she’d asked him, “Are you going to tell Michael we’ve met?”

He didn’t need to consider his answer. “No. Not everything needs to be known to everyone.”

Her relief had been palpable, as if she’d been stuck between a physical rock and a hard place. She did the best she could, as they all did, and he would honor her request as long as he could.

She had the ability to see into him and his motives, to keep him honest. He could not do the same, although her aura told him some things. While she seemed sincere and knew more about him than most, he had to consider all angles to find the right way to help her.

Maybe her daughter truly didn’t care for her own children. Or maybe Toula cared too much. Maybe she created a complex story about her ancestors to explain away her own mental health issues, which could also be genetic. Maybe she created a scenario to explain away the oddities of her family and make herself a hero.

She certainly knew what he was, and he’d never been identified as anything other than human in all his days on earth except by another non-human being.

He sighed. Time would tell whether she told part of the truth or the whole truth, and whether he’d put himself or her into any danger by coming here.

Pulling his phone from his coat pocket, he glanced through his notifications. Nothing important, nothing of value. Nothing from his son.

Hell with it. He dialed Sam’s number and to his surprise, he picked up. “Hello?”

Henri couldn’t hide his surprise. “Sam?”

“Where are you?”

The question stalled him. He couldn’t share much without trusting his son to keep a lid on things. “Taking a fishing trip. Where are you?”

He didn’t answer right away.

“Sam? Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” he said, slightly slurring the syllable. “I thought you were coming up this weekend.”

Henri closed his eyes. “That was last weekend.”

The connection crackled. “You were in the city last weekend? Why didn’t you come by?”

Heart sinking, Henri reminded him, “I did. You don’t remember?”

Rather than admit the truth, Sam skirted. “I have a gallery showing in April, some pretty important names. Can I send you the dates? Will you come?”

Would he? He should, even if Sam didn’t deserve his appearance. “I don’t know this far out. I’d like to, Sam. I know it’s important to you. Send the dates over and I’ll get them on my calendar.”

“I’ll try to come down for the holidays this year.”

From the strain in his tone, Henri knew he wouldn’t see his son again this Christmas or New Year. Still, he didn’t shatter the  illusion. “I hope so, I would like you to.”

Henri heard his son’s doorbell ring in the background and Sam muttered, “Gotta go.”

Henri tossed the phone to the other side of the bed. Useless, trying to communicate with his son, a man-child. He didn’t care about anything beyond his own pleasures, his own escape. He certainly wouldn’t want anything to do with Toula Thibodeaux and her granddaughters.

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