The Nememiah Chronicles Collection - Books 4-5 E-Book

D.S. Williams

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

Books 4-5 in The Nememiah Chronicles, a series of urban fantasy novels by D.S. Williams, now in one volume!
The Knowledge of Love: Haunted by tragedy and burdened with guilt, Charlotte Duncan finds herself thrust into a relentless battle against Archangelo and the Vampire Council. Determined to protect the refugees seeking sanctuary at Zaen, Charlotte must also grapple with the chilling prophecy that only one of Nememiah's Children will survive - herself or Archangelo. Amidst the turmoil, unexpected allies emerge, offering their support. As Charlotte navigates this treacherous path, she uncovers a precious gift that has been left for her, reminding her that even in the darkest of times, hope and resilience can endure.
Knowledge Protects: In the gripping conclusion of The Nememiah Chronicles, Charlotte Duncan finds herself abducted by Archangelo and the Drâghici. Held captive, she struggles to reclaim her identity and confront the seemingly insurmountable challenges that lie ahead. With the unexpected alliance between the Fae Queen, Aethelwine, and the Drâghici, the dynamics of the war have shifted, demanding that Charlotte place unwavering faith in her own abilities. As she battles against formidable odds to rescue those whose lives depend on her, she must also grapple with the delicate matter of trust, especially when it comes to those closest to her. Prepare for a thrilling journey as Charlotte fights for survival, defying fate and protecting the knowledge that holds the key to her ultimate triumph.

Leseprobe

THE NEMEMIAH CHRONICLES COLLECTION

BOOKS 4-5

D. S. WILLIAMS

Copyright (C) 2023 D.S. Williams

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2023 by Next Chapter

Published 2023 by Next Chapter

Cover art by CoverMint

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

CONTENTS

The Knowledge of Love

Knowledge Protects

About the Author

THE KNOWLEDGE OF LOVE

THE NEMEMIAH CHRONICLES BOOK 4

1

THE AGONY OF WAITING

Standing on the ramparts, an icy cold breeze was blowing briskly, creating goose bumps on my exposed skin. I'd chosen this spot on purpose, away from the carnage which had occurred outside the gates. I didn't want to witness the body recovery, knew there were innumerable of them. Our people were working even now, collecting the dead and returning them to the city in preparation for cremations tomorrow. The bodies of the youngling vampires were being cremated on massive bonfires. Despite the brisk wind, the acrid scent of blazing wood reached my nose along with the sickening stench of burning skin.

Marianne stood at my side, had been close since our return from the woods. She'd healed the wounds on my back from Archangelo's Katchet but I'd refused assistance for my wrist. It pulsated with pain but I wanted the pain, needed the pain – it was taking the edge off the anguish compressing my heart.

I'd shut down everything. The spirits were hidden away, banished while I dealt with a grief which encompassed every part of my being. I doubted the immediacy of another assault and even if we did come under attack, what good did the spirits do? They would give us a few minutes warning at most, a few minutes to prepare for more carnage. In all honesty, I couldn't bear to hear them. If I opened myself to the spirits, I would be subjected to hearing Lucas and Conal.

No, I wouldn't listen to the voices. Couldn't listen to the voices. If I heard Lucas and Conal in my mind, I'd leap from the ramparts, throw myself to the ground below. Death would be a welcome release.

Culpability for their deaths lay squarely at my feet, nobody could be blamed for their loss but myself. Remorse coursed through my veins like demon toxin. Regret filled my heart, my soul. If I hadn't rushed off as I did, Conal and Lucas would be alive. They would be here now – with me. I was being selfish, thinking only of myself, but I couldn't get past the idea of being abandoned by the two people I needed the most. How could they leave me? They should be alive. I should be dead.

“Would you like me to check on them?” Marianne asked, pressing a reassuring hand to my shoulder.

I shook my head, squeezing my wrist more tightly against my breast, deliberately pressing to make it hurt. Trying - and failing - to overwhelm the gut-scourging pain in my chest. When Matt brought me back to the city, we'd gone to the hospital, waiting for an eternity outside the room where Jerome and the hospital staff worked feverishly on Conal and Lucas. It seemed as if we'd stood there for days, waiting for news, wishing for somebody to come and say what was happening. When nothing was forthcoming and the guilt became too overwhelming to bear, I'd walked out, knowing they were both dead or close to it. Marianne, bless her heart, followed and stood on the ramparts beside me, standing sentinel as I wallowed in thoughts, analyzing what had gone so terribly wrong.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I desperately tried to block out every thought, every second of misery. Each time I closed my eyes they appeared in horrifying detail. Conal lying on the ground, his body reverted to human. Blood pumping from multiple stab wounds in his chest and abdomen, pouring onto the mossy ground underneath his body. I was convinced he was dead, he'd reverted to human and that only happened when werewolves died. Jerome was undoubtedly going through the motions in an attempt to resuscitate him, but I knew he was dead. I'd seen it too many times before. It happened on the battlefield and it happened there in the woods. Conal was lost to me and I'd never hear his husky southern accent again. He'd never again call me Sugar, never grin and flash his dimples when he teased me.

Lucas. I squeezed my eyes tightly, picturing him lying motionless against the tree. There'd been no movement, not a single indication to suggest he was alive. When he'd been lifted onto the stretcher, his eyes were closed and his body remained limp.

After Epi portalled Lucas and Conal to the city, Matt and Marianne had escorted me back to Zaen, my father's hand warm against my bleeding back. He'd spoken along the way, yet I didn't have a clue what he'd said. Words of encouragement, perhaps. Maybe he'd been offering reasons why this wasn't my fault, I didn't have a clue. All I knew was the two most important men in my life were dead. I might as well have killed them myself. If I hadn't run after Archangelo, if I hadn't left the battle and their protection…

A tormented sob burst from my throat. Marianne rested her hand on my shoulder, enough pressure to assure me of her presence, that she shared my anguish.

How could I go on without them? What point was there to all this if I had nothing left in life? The men I'd loved with every part of myself were gone. The men who'd loved me with every part of themselves were lost forever. They were intertwined, Conal and Lucas, joined together in a heart which had splintered and broken in my chest.

Marianne's grip tightened against my shoulder and I turned to find her gaze fixed on the three men walking towards us. Matt walked slowly, his brown eyes filled with heartache. Ben walked beside him, his clothes still covered in blood. And Nick – returned to human and dressed, but dried demon blood still clung to his hair and skin.

I stumbled backwards, desperate to avoid them, unwilling to have Lucas and Conal's deaths confirmed. Marianne's arm slipped from my shoulder to wrap around my waist.

“No… no, no, NO!” I moaned, holding my hand up as though the insignificant movement would prevent them from telling me. I didn't want to hear the news, refused to listen to it. I squirmed and wriggled, escaping Marianne's grip and stumbling blindly across the ramparts.

Matt caught me, wrapping his arms around my body as I pummeled my fists against his chest, sobbing and moaning. “Charlotte, baby. Shhhh. Shhhh, now.”

“NO! NO! I don't want to know, don't tell me. Please, don't tell me. I can't bear it, I can't!”

Matt's voice was strained when he spoke, his skin haggard with anxiety. “Charlotte, listen to me. You have to listen.” He met Ben's eyes, silently pleading for help. I could see the emotions rippling across his face, knew he didn't want to break my heart so completely that I would never recover.

Ben stepped forward and I vaguely noticed Nick, his grey eyes stormy. Matt held me close against him and I buried my head against his chest, trying to close my mind and senses to what was to come.

“Charlotte, Conal is alive,” Ben said, tenderly brushing hair from my face with cool fingers. “He's alive. He has multiple injuries, Jerome had to operate and remove his spleen and it will take a while for him to recover. But he's alive.”

I tilted my head to him, my cheeks wet with tears. “He's alive?” I echoed hoarsely. “He's not dead?”

Ben nodded, the motion reassuring. “He's very much alive, Charlotte.”

Relief flooded through me and my heart lifted. Conal was mortal, he could be killed easily and he'd lived. If he'd lived, then Lucas…

“Lucas? He's all right? He's alive too?”

The sheer agony which crossed Ben's handsome features gave the answer before he uttered a word. “I'm so terribly sorry, Charlotte. There was nothing anyone could do.”

2

SYMPATHY

I was surrounded by well-meaning people. Quiet people who talked together in hushed voices, took turns holding my hand, touching my shoulder, patting my knee. They offered cups of tea, glasses of brandy – as if anything could provide solace against the lancing pain in my heart.

For hours I'd sat in Matt and Misaki's cottage, distanced from a continual procession of well-meaning friends who arrived to offer comfort, share their support. It didn't make the slightest bit of difference. Nothing would make this better, nothing could bring Lucas back. Tears filled my eyes at the whisper of his name in my mind. How could I go on without him? How did I find the strength to come to terms with what happened, something which wouldn't have happened if not for my impetuousness?

Matt and Nick brought me here hours ago. Ben returned to the hospital to continue providing support to those who would survive their injuries, comfort for those who had lost loved ones. Epi was here, along with Rafe, Gwynn and William, Marianne and Striker. Rowena was beside me, had been sitting at my side for hours, clasping my hand in hers. Her touch seemed to ground me, stopping me from floating away into the subspace where I wanted to hide from the world. Yet I couldn't let go, needed her cool fingers in mine. It was the only comfort I had.

Every pack leader had been to visit, their body language displaying unease when they'd offered their condolences. People don't like death. People don't like the discomfort of seeing someone trying to cope with grief. There is no comfort in watching others breaking apart, destroyed by pain which amplifies through every nerve, every thought. There are no right words, nothing which will take the pain away. Yet they tried, these virtual strangers, tried their hardest to find something to say which would provide placation to their own terror of how they would feel, if the roles were reversed.

This felt unnatural, surreal. Lucas couldn't be dead.

It didn't make sense.

He was immortal.

The same thoughts swirled through my mind, endlessly, a swirling whirlpool of denial. I nodded to the visitors, unwilling to speak. Unable to voice a clear thought, frightened to speak in case the torrent of grief broke through the walls I'd built – holding the anguish back until I could understand the unfathomable.

We'd spoken about this so many times – my fears about growing old and dying. And yet here I was – the one left behind. The one left to deal with the memories. The ache in my chest would kill me. I didn't understand how we'd made love only hours ago and now he was gone forever. He'd been so worried about something happening to me – how could it be him who'd died?

I hadn't cried since first hearing the news, the tears refused to fall. They were bound together in a lump in my throat, compressed together and increasing the ache in my heart. The pain grew incrementally worse with every passing minute, until I thought my body would explode with it.

I tortured myself – cruelly and painfully reminding myself of what I'd lost. I would never smell his addictive scent again. Never lose myself against his mouth, feel the hardness of his cool chest beneath my fingers. He'd never lay in our bed, holding me against him throughout the night. Never again would he swing me onto his back, race across the land until it felt as though we were flying. He'd never make love to me again.

I stood up abruptly, unable to stand the claustrophobic atmosphere a moment longer and released Rowena's hand. “I'm going home,” I announced, to nobody in particular.

Rowena wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Stay here, Charlotte,” she urged softly. “Or come and stay with Ben and I. You don't want to go back to the cottage yet, give yourself some time.”

Shaking my head, I turned resolutely towards the door. “No, I want to go home.”

“I'll come with you,” Rowena offered.

“No, I want… I want to be alone,” I said. I walked shakily towards the door and slipped through it, heading towards the cottage we'd shared.

Although darkness had fallen, people still wandered in the streets. They glanced in my direction, then turned away, lowering their eyes. I ignored everyone, walking slowly towards our cottage. Our cottage. The lump in my throat worsened, making it difficult to draw breath. My chest wanted to collapse in on itself, close around my heart and kill me. At this moment, right now, I'd welcome such an event.

I slowed as I neared the cottage, dragging my feet now that I was so close. I forced one foot in front of the other until I was turning the door handle, the brass cool against my fingers.

Shutting my eyes, I took a deep breath, pushed the door open and stepped inside.

He was here. Everywhere around me. The slightest hint of his scent lingered and the lump in my throat tightened painfully.

I opened my eyes slowly, flicking the light switch and taking a minute to adjust to the sudden brightness. My gaze drifted toward the couch where Lucas had sat beside me, his long legs stretched out before him.

How could he be dead?

I walked upstairs at a snail's pace, pausing on each step. Dreading what came next. On the landing I turned instinctively towards the bedroom, flicking the light switch. The bed was still unmade, the covers pulled back and the sheets rumpled. Rumpled where his body had lain so close to mine. I scanned the room, pain building with each passing second. A neat stack of his clothes on the chair, waiting to be put away. A pair of his shoes. On the floor his shirt, discarded hastily before we joined the battle. I forced myself towards it and slumped onto my knees, picking it up and holding it against my chest. I lifted the material to my face, smelt the strong aroma of him on it. I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply.

The lump in my throat exploded and a guttural scream erupted from my lips, tearing through my chest like a primal reflex of agony. I collapsed on the floor, clinging to the shirt and holding it to my face.

“Charlotte, come on… Charlotte, please don't. Please, Charlotte.” William lifted me bodily from the floor and carried me to the bed. Gwynn lay down beside me, wrapping her arms tightly around my body while I cried endlessly. William slumped at the end of the bed, holding his head in his hands. I knew he was dealing with the same unbearable pain I was enduring. The Tines had known Lucas for a long time, our pain was shared. I was swamped by hurt, drowning under a tidal wave of agony and guilt. It would kill me and at that moment, I wanted to die. Wanted to be with Lucas, wherever he was now.

Jerome came into view, his face twisted with grief. He sat down, taking my hand in his. “I'm so very sorry, Charlotte.” His voice wavered, the very words causing him pain. Jerome, who'd fixed me over and over again couldn't fix the one person I couldn't live without.

I cried interminably – when eventually the sobbing eased, numbness took over. Gwynn continued to lay beside me, her arms like a protective blanket. Marianne arrived, held my other hand. Striker and Holden stood in the doorway, faces solemn. William remained frozen, still curled over with his hands cradling his head.

“I need to look at that wrist,” Jerome announced.

“Not now.” The pain was barely noticeable, swamped by the misery in my heart. “I'm okay.”

“You're not okay,” Jerome argued, “and it's extremely swollen.”

I knew he was right, but I didn't care. What did it matter? What difference did it make? All the same, I knew it would make Jerome feel better, give him something constructive to focus on. He looked exhausted, shattered. He and Lucas had been friends. He was grieving Lucas's death, as acutely as I was. “Fine,” I agreed hoarsely.

Jerome stood up. “Come to the hospital. I'll need an x-ray to ascertain the extent of the damage.”

We walked through the quiet streets towards the hospital, Jerome, William and Gwynn, Striker and Marianne. Holden had slipped away quietly, offering me a tense goodbye. The streets were silent now, the majority of houses in darkness. The pall of smoke drifted over the sky above us from the funeral pyres, obliterating the stars. I shivered a little, despite the coat Marianne had helped me shrug on.

“Why did he die?”

Jerome inhaled sharply, squeezing his eyes shut as though he couldn't bear to think of Lucas without feeling pain.

“The vampires are immortal,” I pressed, turning to Striker. “Lucas told me the only way you could die was to be torn apart and the pieces burned. Why did Lucas die? Why didn't he survive?” I needed the answer, had to understand how Lucas could be killed by Archangelo's spirit orb. It shouldn't have been possible; I couldn't understand how it happened.

Striker shrugged. “I don't know the answers, Lott. I wish I did.”

“The orbs are made of pure energy. Obviously we don't understand the fundamentals of what's involved, but we can safely assume there's some sort of electrical energy,” Jerome explained.

I nodded, silently agreeing with his suggestion.

William spoke up. “Charlotte, even we vampires don't understand why we continue to exist. Our hearts don't beat, we don't breathe. Nothing in our bodies remains the same as it would if we had continued as humans. Yet the electrical impulses that occur in the human body continue to occur in a vampire's body, allowing us to walk, to talk. To live.”

“That's why we can only be killed by tearing our bodies apart, burning the pieces,” Marianne added. “It destroys the electrical impulses that allow us to exist.”

I stopped walking. “So… what are you saying?”

Jerome stopped beside me, thoughtfully running his fingers across his jaw and I waited as he composed his answer. “I can't tell you exactly why he died, Charlotte. I wish I could. The closest guess I can give you is to suggest the electrical energy in the orb short-circuited the electrical impulses in his body.”

I considered this explanation for a few seconds, closer to reaching an understanding. “Why didn't the orb I used kill Lucas and William in Puckhaber?” I demanded abruptly.

William shrugged. “Perhaps because it was the first time you'd used the ability; the orb didn't have the strength of Archangelo's.”

“So… you're saying any one of you could be killed by an orb?”

William glanced toward Jerome and Striker, saw their silent assent and nodded heavily. “I believe so.”

I chewed my lip, contemplating the horrendous implications. “I could lose all of you. One by one,” I stated flatly.

Marianne rested her hands against my shoulders. “Charlotte, don't think like that. It will only make it worse. Lucas,” her brow furrowed as she vocalized his name and she swallowed hard. “Lucas, myself, Striker – we all knew what we were getting into when we decided to fight the Drâghici. We're only immortal because in the right circumstances, we can live forever. Given the wrong circumstances, we're just as capable of dying as you are.”

Squaring my shoulders, I lifted my chin determinedly. “Then you should leave. Every one of you. Go away and hide somewhere, somewhere you can be safe.” My voice broke and I inhaled unsteadily. “I want you to leave.”

“We're not going to do that, Charlotte,” William rebuked me gently. “This is as much a war for our survival as it is yours.”

“I can't be responsible for you,” I whispered. “Lucas is dead because of me. I won't be responsible for your deaths too.”

“Don't you think for a minute that any of this is your fault,” Marianne warned me, her head tilted at an angle as she gazed at me. “Lucas knew what he was doing, he knew the risks he was taking.”

Wrenching away from her grip, I turned and strode rapidly down the street. “Lucas came after me because I was idiot enough to think I could take on Archangelo! He wouldn't have been out there if it wasn't for me!”

Striker caught me, grabbing my arm and catching me against his chest, holding me while I sobbed. “Lucas did what he had to do. We're all doing what we have to do, Charlotte. He wouldn't want you to blame yourself.”

“But it's my fault,” I moaned against his shirt.

“None of this is your fault. It's the fault of the Drâghici, Archangelo, Alberich Bran,” William responded quietly. He stood beside us, his expression solemn. “You didn't throw that orb at Lucas. You didn't plunge that knife into Conal. You didn't send demons and vampires to kill people. They did.”

I slumped limply against Striker, guilt creating an ever-widening chasm thought my soul.

“Charlotte, don't let this overwhelm you with negative feelings. You need to turn those emotions around and use your energy to confront the truly guilty in all this,” Gwynn urged.

I straightened up with a heavy sigh, wiping the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand. What they had said was true. It didn't make me feel better - but it was true. Archangelo had done this. Archangelo had killed Lucas.

And he would pay.

3

FINAL GOODBYES

“Don't shut me away, my love.”

For the third time in as many hours I woke, searching for the source of Lucas's voice. Sitting up, I surveyed the room carefully hoping and praying that the past twenty-four hours had been a terrible nightmare. A sob rose in my throat, knowing he wasn't there, frustrated that I was imagining his voice in my dreams. I was becoming convinced this was the punishment for my stupidity, that I would be haunted by his calm voice forever and never sleep restfully again.

“Charlotte? Are you all right? Is there anything I can do?” Marianne appeared in the doorway, her face shadowed by the darkness but I knew her pretty face would be filled with anxiety. She and Striker had insisted on staying at the cottage with me after Jerome finished treating my wrist. The bone was shattered but Jerome attempted the Hjördis first, seconding Ben's assistance to wield the powerful item, before resorting to surgery. To his surprise the Hjördis had repaired the extensive injury - other than a slight ache, my wrist was as good as new.

Jerome had been resolute in his insistence of providing sleeping tablets, and wouldn't be dissuaded from his decision. Returning home, I'd wearily climbed the stairs, wanting to sleep in our bed. The shirt Lucas had discarded lay beneath my head on the pillow, his scent emanating from the material provided a small modicum of comfort. Since then, I'd woken three times to the sound of Lucas's voice. Each and every time I checked the mental box where the spirits were trapped. Every time I'd confirmed the box was tightly sealed, yet Lucas was still reaching me.

Wrapping my arms around my knees, I hugged them to my chest, attempting a reassuring smile in Marianne's direction. “I'm okay.”

Marianne sighed, walking across the room to sit beside me. “You should be sleeping, Jerome gave you enough medication to sedate a horse,” she pointed out evenly.

Tears brimmed against my eyelashes and I swallowed heavily before I could speak. “I keep hearing Lucas's voice.”

Marianne's expression crumpled in sympathy. “I know how hard that must be for you. But you surely expected he would reach out to you as the others have done.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek anxiously, glancing away from Marianne. “I've had them shut away. I couldn't deal with the thought of hearing his voice amongst the others, knowing what it meant. That he was… really gone.” When I dared to look up, Marianne's sympathetic eyes brought a fresh wave of tears to mine. “But somehow, I keep hearing his voice. I don't know if it's really him, or I'm just imagining it.”

Marianne sighed, gripping my hands in hers. “I won't tell you what a bad idea it is to keep them hidden away. You know they're the only thing giving us advance warnings, but I can understand why you did it, why you feel you can't cope right now.”

“I don't understand how he could be contacting me. Every time I sleep, I hear him. Everyone else is silent, only his voice comes to me. He keeps telling me not to shut him away.”

Marianne closed her eyes briefly, before meeting mine again. “I can't tell you whether what you're hearing is real, or if it's your imagination, you know that. But Charlotte, perhaps you should see him one last time before the funeral. Maybe it is your subconscious playing tricks on you,” she paused, frowning, “or maybe Lucas is finding some way to reach out, despite your attempts to avoid it.”

Rowena and Ben had suggested I see Lucas before his cremation tomorrow, but I'd rejected the suggestion outright. I couldn't look at him, not when it was so incredibly painful. The thought of standing over him, knowing he would never smile again, never hold me was unbearable. But maybe Marianne was right, he was trying to send me a message. Perhaps he did want me to see him one last time. “All right.” It was still dark outside, a quick glance at the clock confirming it was a little before six in the morning. “Could we go now?”

“Of course.” Marianne stood up, heading towards the door. “I'll ask Striker to arrange it with Jerome and leave you to get dressed.”

I threw the covers from my legs and dressed quickly, slipping into jeans and a sweater. I didn't want to give myself time to talk myself out of it. Pulling on the boots lying beside the bed, I twisted my hair into a ponytail and headed downstairs.

The cobble-stoned streets were deserted in the early morning light as we made our way towards the hospital. Rowena and Ben had been waiting when I got downstairs, silently providing their support. Marianne had linked an arm through mine, with Rowena taking the other side, whilst Ben walked quietly beside his wife. The morning air was crisp and I shivered violently, although it had little to do with the weather and more to do with what I was about to face.

Jerome met us at the hospital steps, alerted to our arrival by Striker who leaned against one of the colonnades nearby. Jerome had taken an opportunity to change, his shirt clean and devoid of Conal's blood, but his face was gaunt, dark circles marring the skin under his eyes. It was apparent he'd been on duty all night.

“I think you're doing the right thing,” Jerome informed me gruffly. “I know it hurts, but it might provide you with some closure.” He turned and limped down the hallway, dimly lit by early morning light and our footsteps echoed hollowly in the silence. Jerome paused at a door on the right, opening it and flicking a light switch to reveal a set of stairs leading down. We followed behind, Marianne and Rowena providing support as I started to tremble uncontrollably.

We walked along a second corridor, then Jerome stopped in front of a closed door at the very end. “I'll bring him out. I don't want you going in there.”

I was all too aware of the implication – we'd suffered large losses in yesterday's battle – and they would be lying in the room behind the door, until their cremations tomorrow. For a moment I wondered how many were suffering the same loss I was, how many were grieving for loved ones killed during our latest battle, before my sorrow overwhelmed me again with thoughts of Lucas.

Jerome pushed open the door and stepped inside, Striker following closely behind. Marianne led me to a chair against the wall and I sunk onto it while we waited. Glancing nervously around the unadorned corridor, I wondered what this basement had been used for before. Was it servants' quarters? Or kitchens for whoever had lived upstairs, long ago? Or was this area new, created by Nememiah for casualties he'd expected during this war? Not for the first time, I cursed my role as an Angel child. It had brought nothing but heartache to myself and everyone around me.

The door swung open and Striker stepped out, rolling a gurney through the doorway with infinite care. I stood up, nausea and anxiety roiling through my stomach in equal proportions. Jerome was pushing from the other end and the two men stopped the gurney before me. Tears filled my eyes as I surveyed the body, draped by a large white sheet.

Lucas was under there. My Lucas, who would never smile again, never laugh, never hold me in his arms and kiss me until my heart pounded and my knees weakened with love and desire.

Marianne and Rowena gripped my arms, staunchly supportive as I stared at the gurney, trying to prepare myself for seeing him. It was impossible, nothing could prepare me for the finality of seeing Lucas this way.

A sob escaped my throat, tears running down my cheeks as Ben touched for my shoulder. “Do you want to see him, Charlotte? The decision is yours.”

I found it was impossible to speak, my throat filled with the same painful lump as before, even worse as it threatened to suffocate me. I nodded hesitantly and Jerome carefully drew the sheet back from Lucas's face.

He was perfect. No injuries marred his handsome face, no wounds from the battle were visible. To all intents and purposes, he appeared to be sleeping. Except that he hadn't needed to indulge that human necessity. He'd never had reason to keep his eyes closed the way they were now. I ached to touch him, hold him against me and I tentatively raised a shaking finger to caress his cheek. His skin was icy, much colder than normal. Tears filled my eyes, blurring his image and I wiped them away, wishing with all my heart that he would open his eyes and look at me. I wanted to see his eyes - the glorious midnight blue I adored - to see the flecks of silver whirling, like lightning in a darkened sky.

But that would never happen again.

The finality of his death hit like a blow and my knees buckled. Ben caught me in his arms and held me while I sobbed.

“Don't cry for me, my Charlotte. I will be with you always, as I promised you.”

Hearing his deep voice, I knew it was futile to try and keep him locked away. Lucas had somehow broken through the barriers, could reach me in spite of them. I released the spirits from their confinement, felt the soft flutter as they filled my head with a steady hum of gentle noise.

“You left me, Lucas. I can't bear it.”

“You're strong, my Charlotte. Stronger and braver than anyone I've ever known.”

“Not without you!”

“Charlotte, you were always strong. With or without me by your side, that strength remains.”

“I can't do this without you. I can't!”

“Charlotte, you can and you will. I'll be with you here, guiding you, helping you.”

“It's not the same.”

I could almost hear a smile in his voice. “No, it's not the same. I yearn to hold you against me, to feel the softness of your lips against mine. There is nothing I can do to change what's happened. But I've left you something to remind you of our love together, to remind you of what we've shared.”

My gaze came to rest on my hand, resting against Ben's chest, where Lucas's ring still circled my finger. His ring would always be there, a reminder of how much he'd loved me. “I love you, Lucas,” I whispered aloud, my face wet with tears.

“And I love you. For all of eternity, and beyond.”

4

A SHOCK

I was sitting alone, a mug of coffee cradled between my hands and I leaned back in the chair and sighed. The tables in the mess were filled with people, but I'd purposely chosen a small table near the windows, where I could stare out onto the courtyard and avoid everyone. My demeanor kept people away, the avoidance of eye contact made it crystal clear to those surrounding me that I didn't want their sympathy, wouldn't talk, didn't want company. I'd only come to the mess for the coffee it could provide.

A plate of crisp bacon and lightly scrambled eggs, biscuits and gravy sat on the table, untouched and stone cold. Nonny had delivered it earlier, but I wasn't interested in eating. Her sympathy was obvious, her black eyes awash with tears when she'd put the plate down silently.

“How's Conal?” I'd enquired morosely. In the week since the attack, I hadn't been to see him, couldn't seem to force myself to enter the hospital.

“Feeling better. Jerome says he might be released tomorrow,” Nonny said. She frowned, pausing for moment as she smoothed down her apron. “He'd like to see you,” she added cautiously.

“Maybe later.” The truth of the matter was that I didn't want to see anyone. Couldn't find forgiveness in myself for the actions I'd taken. Out of everyone in the city, Conal was the absolute last person I wanted to see. I was gutless enough to pray I could keep avoiding him. Conal and Lucas had suffered endless misery since we'd met. How could I apologize for what had happened in the woods? What possible way was there, to ask forgiveness for such utter stupidity? Conal had lost his spleen, almost died because I'd gone after Archangelo. Despite Jerome's best efforts, he would carry scars for the rest of his life. I couldn't imagine him wanting to see me, was convinced Nonny was only suggesting it to make me feel better.

She patted my shoulder and quietly walked away, while I returned to pondering my radically altered circumstances. What was I meant to do now? Paranoia gripped my chest, and I worried endlessly about others being hurt or dying. How would I cope if the Tines were killed, or Matt and Misaki? Lost and alone without Lucas, I didn't think I could survive the death of anyone else. Lucas's passing had gutted me, removed any ability to focus on a future in which this would all be over. The years ahead seemed completely untenable without him.

“Charlotte.”

I glanced up at the sound of Ben's voice, found him and Jerome standing beside the table. A worried frown marred Ben's otherwise perfect features. Jerome, too, looked concerned. “May we sit down?”

I waved a hand towards the empty chairs, subduing a heavy sigh. “Sure.”

Rather than speaking, they observed me silently for a few minutes. I wasn't certain if they were waiting for me to say something, but I didn't have the energy to bother. I focused my attention towards the window again, watching the pattern of life continue before me. The people of Zaen went about their daily lives, followed their usual routines. The children were lining up outside the newly formed school, preparing for their day of learning. Women stood in groups around the courtyard, chatting and laughing before heading towards their respective work roles. Men strode in groups towards the gates, prepared for training. Life went on. I couldn't begin to comprehend how it could.

“Charlotte, we need to talk,” Ben announced.

I huffed out an impatient breath, begrudgingly turning my attention their way. “I don't want anti-depressants. I'm not depressed. Just… sad. So don't try and pressure me into it, I'm not in the mood.” Jerome had recommended prescribing anti-depressants a few days ago, after the last of the funerals. I was refusing to consider the idea, not wanting to take anything. Preparations were underway to start giving small amounts of my blood to some in our group, bestowing them with the use of the weapons and medication might affect the process. Although Jerome had assured me anti-depressants wouldn't have any effect, I wasn't willing to take the risk.

“Charlotte, that isn't what we need to speak to you about,” Jerome announced, his gaze sharp. “Remember when we treated your wrist, I took another sample of your blood?” I nodded, rubbing a finger up and down the mug on the table and Jerome continued. “Lucas…” My eyes widened in alarm, startled by Lucas's name being spoken aloud and Jerome's expression softened, molding into compassion. “Lucas, Ben and I were attempting to produce a synthetic version of your blood.”

“I remember.”

Ben leaned forward, covering my hands with his and I felt the first twinges of alarm. What now? Was there something wrong with my blood? Did I have cancer? Was he going to tell me we had to halt the program because I was anemic? What the hell else could go wrong? It seemed as if I was spending my entire life stumbling from one catastrophe to the next disaster and I was sick of it. “What?” I finally blurted, looking from Ben to Jerome. “What's wrong with me?”

Ben faltered for a couple of seconds, shutting his eyes and the furrow between his brows deepened. “There's no easy way of telling you this, Charlotte. It's going to come as a shock no matter how we do it.”

I forced myself to breathe evenly, even as panic rippled through every nerve ending. “Maybe you should just tell me and get it over with.” My voice sounded far more stoic than I was feeling.

Again Ben paused and Jerome huffed out a frustrated breath. “Oh, for God's sake, let me tell her. You'd never make a doctor.” He looked me squarely in the eyes. “Charlotte, you're pregnant.”

My hand dropped to my stomach, unconsciously cradling my flat belly. “Pregnant?” I echoed softly.

Ben nodded, squeezing my fingers lightly. “Jerome discovered it when he ran your bloods this morning. He's been running routine tests on your blood for some time, checking for anemia, making sure your cell counts were high enough. One of those routine tests is for pregnancy. Yours came up positive today, confirming you're pregnant.”

I blinked rapidly, inhaling a sharp breath before the air whooshed slowly out between my lips. “The test? Could it be wrong?” Pregnant. Oh, God. I couldn't be pregnant. But you could, an inner voice reminded me. Lucas and I had indulged in unprotected sex. It was completely feasible, if not unprecedented.

“I've confirmed it. Twice, in fact,” Jerome reassured me. “You're most definitely pregnant.” He sat back against the chair, waiting silently while I digested this bombshell.

I shut my eyes, focusing on Lucas in my mind. He appeared before me, his eyes filled with mixed emotions – unbearable sadness combined with a light of incredible joy.

“Did you know?” I asked, knowing the answer even before the words were uttered.

“Yes, love. I knew from the moment I arrived here in the… afterlife, whatever you wish to call it.” He gazed at me, his blue eyes calm and composed. “I told you I'd left something to remind you of our love together.”

“I thought you meant your ring!” I protested. “Not a baby! I can't do this on my own!”

“I wish you didn't have to, my Charlotte. I've tried everything I can think of, but I can't find any way back to you.”

Ben squeezed my fingers to regain my attention and I turned to him, eyes filled with tears as Lucas disappeared into the mist. “Ben, what am I going to do?” I pleaded anxiously.

Jerome answered decisively. “The first thing you're going to do is eat something. It isn't good,” He glanced around, ensuring nobody was in earshot, “for the baby if you stop eating now. When did you last eat something substantial?”

I shrugged faintly. “I don't know.” The past week was a blur, I'd been going through the motions each day without any thought or direction. While I continued to train with Nick and Epi, I was on automatic pilot and doing what was asked of me – nothing more, nothing less. Had I eaten dinner last night? Lunch yesterday? I couldn't answer the question.

Jerome huffed a frustrated breath and Ben released my hands, picking up the untouched plate of food. “I'll be back in a minute.”

Jerome hauled himself to his feet and patted my shoulder awkwardly. “I'll be at the hospital. Ben'll bring you over to see me later. You're going to be fine, Charlotte.” He limped away, waving to a couple of people and left me alone at the table.

Pregnant. I swallowed nervously, my hand still resting against my belly. I couldn't begin to comprehend their announcement, couldn't imagine having a baby on my own, without Lucas here to share it. To bring a baby into the world, in my current situation, it was inconceivable. Now more than ever before, Nememiah's words filtered through my memory, filling me with a heavy sense of dread. Only one of us could survive, Archangelo or myself. How could I possibly fight against him when I had a new life growing inside me? Having a baby now was completely unthinkable. It would be impossible to continue in the role of Nememiah's Child while carrying a baby in my womb. How could I take that risk? What other choices did I have when so many people relied on me for their continued existence? I couldn't abandon them now, but I'd been placed in a position which was utterly impossible. As much as the idea appalled me…

“Don't even think it, Charlotte.” Lucas's voice filtered through my mind, his tone brooking no argument.

“I can't do it, Lucas. I can't have a baby now,” I whispered.

“You are having a baby now, my love. My baby. Our baby. And I will do everything, everything in my power to protect you and our child from danger.”

“How can you help?” Abruptly I was angry, furious with Lucas for leaving me alone to deal with this mess. I shouldn't even be considering having this baby in the current circumstances, it was so impractical it bordered on ridiculous. “In case you haven't noticed, you're gone! You left me!”

“Charlotte, I would never have willingly left you.” The reproach in his voice was impossible to miss. “Please, I'm begging you. Don't destroy this miracle which even now is growing in your womb.”

“I'm frightened, Lucas.” The anger was gone as quickly as it had built, leaving behind the gaping emptiness which had engulfed me in the past few days.

“I know, my Charlotte.” He paused for a moment, and I wondered if he was searching for the right things to say. “I don't blame you in the slightest for being frightened, but I'll find a way to help you, my love. I will find a way; I give you my word.”

“Charlotte, here. Eat something.” Ben reappeared and pushed a plate of fresh sandwiches in front of me before reclaiming his chair. He put a mug of coffee on the table and watched until I picked up a sandwich and bit into it obediently. For a few minutes he sat in silence, waiting until I'd finished eating before he spoke again. “I know this must be something of a shock.”

“You could say that,” I agreed tersely.

He leaned across the table, searching my eyes. “Does Lucas know?”

“He knew before I did,” I admitted. “He's known since…” I couldn't finish the sentence.

Ben watched me closely for a second or two. “I can only imagine how delighted he is. Many of us dream of fatherhood, despite it being an unobtainable goal. To have it given to him now must be bittersweet.” He patted my hand. “For both of you.”

“I don't know what to do,” I admitted. “Ben… what should I do?”

Ben shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “Charlotte, I can't possibly suggest what you should do. I have no experience to draw on in helping you reach a decision.” He eyed me cautiously, a frown creasing his forehead. “What I can tell you, is that fatherhood is something we vampires wish we could experience, yet know it is impossible. And I'll be honest with you, my opinions on the subject would be skewed. I was born centuries ago, in a time when infant mortality was incredibly high; to bring a healthy child into being by the grace of God was seen as a blessing.”

Lifting the coffee mug, I sipped the hot liquid, giving myself a few moments to think. The idea of a pregnancy was still unbelievable and each time the word 'pregnant' ran through my mind, the same sense of disbelief hit again. Maybe I should take time to let the news sink in before I made any decisions.

“Charlotte…” Lucas's voice was full of emotion, but I shook my head minutely. I needed time to think this through, without extra pressure from anyone. With a snort of displeasure, Lucas spoke again. “Alright, my love. I will give you time to think without my input. I love you.”

Ben was watching me carefully when I looked up. “Lucas?” he guessed.

I nodded tearfully. “He wants me to have the baby.”

“Of course.” Ben fiddled with a paper napkin on the table, folding it in half, then in half again. A vampire fidgeting was never a good sign and I waited patiently for him to speak. “Charlotte, to be honest, I don't think I'm the right person to help you with this. Perhaps Rowena…”

I shook my head vehemently before sipping my coffee, trying to control my rioting emotions and get a grip. I needed to focus, calm myself and try to wrap my head around these new circumstances. I groaned out loud, shaking my head again, but with less vigor. “This has to be kept secret. You, Jerome and I are the only people who can know about the pregnancy,” I declared determinedly. “At least until I make up my mind.”

Ben patted my hand again. “I can understand you're feeling that way,” he began softly, “but I've never kept a secret from Rowena and I'm afraid I can't start now. She will want to support you through this, Charlotte.”

I licked my lips nervously. “All right, but nobody else,” I insisted.

Ben's mouth lifted into a wry smile. “Unless you've become remarkably adept at guarding your thoughts, I'm afraid we have no way of keeping the news from Ripley. He has completely regained his ability.”

I moaned, dropping my head into my hands gloomily. “This is impossible!”

“Charlotte, you've had all of fifteen minutes to digest this news. Give yourself time to come to terms with it yourself, before you make any decisions regarding how to proceed. For now, let's take a walk to the hospital and meet Jerome. He'll be able to answer your questions and you can think about what you're going to do.”

5

CONFESSIONS

It was a glorious day outside, with a soft breeze blowing across the courtyard as we made our way to the hospital. Ben spoke of inconsequential matters as we walked, but I barely listened. The clear blue sky was reflecting off the glass meeting hall, creating a mirror image which was really quite pretty and would have given me pause to admire - if only I could get my mind off the other, more pressing matters which were taking my whole attention.

Jerome met us in a small room on the first floor, which he'd converted into an office for himself. It had the normal accoutrements of a Doctor's surgery, with a desk, a couple of chairs and a bookshelf to one side holding a multitude of medical volumes. Opposite the bookcase, an examination table was covered with a white sheet and Jerome waved his hand towards it. “I want to perform an ultrasound,” he announced. “Get up on the table and undo your jeans.”

“Do you think there's something wrong?” I questioned sharply. The sheer power of maternal feelings which flooded my thoughts was stunning, and I knew in that instant that I could never harm this baby. Lucas's baby. Somehow, I would have to find a way of dealing with the situation, work through it and discover a way to protect the child growing inside me.

“No, no,” Ben said soothingly, helping me onto the examination table. “But we have no parameters for this situation. Nothing to help us judge what's normal and what isn't for an angel who is pregnant to a vampire.”

“How are you going to know what is normal?” I questioned anxiously, undoing the button of my jeans and releasing the zipper. “Is this safe for the baby?”

“For Christ's sake, you need to relax,” Jerome grumbled. He picked up a piece of plastic which had a handle and looked kind of like a solid paintbrush. “It's perfectly normal to do an ultrasound, thousands of women have them every day. I'm checking the baby's health, obviously, but Ben's right - we don't know what will be normal in this situation. I need to see if you're progressing as a human pregnancy would, or if the pregnancy will be accelerated or decelerated in comparison. This'll be cold,” he warned, a split-second before he squirted cold gel across my lower belly.

He lowered the paintbrush-like instrument and wiped it across my skin, watching a small television screen which was sitting on a table. I couldn't make heads nor tails of what he was looking at, but he and Ben watched the screen avidly and occasionally Jerome pressed a button on the small keyboard by his side taking some sort of measurement.

“All done,” Jerome announced, removing the probe from my abdomen and wiping the jelly-like substance from my skin. “Everything looks absolutely perfect.”

“The baby's okay?”

“Perfect. There are no abnormalities, absolutely nothing deviating from a typically human pregnancy at this stage. Based on the measurements, I'd estimate you're about four weeks along.”

I did some rapid calculations. “I must have fallen pregnant…” Blushing furiously, I lowered my gaze to the floor.

“Probably the very first time you and Lucas made love, I would imagine,” Ben offered, with a quirk of his lips the only outward sign of his amusement.

“Seems we should have considered contraception before the event, rather than after,” Jerome announced dryly.

I pulled my sweater down over my belly, marveling that there could be a baby in there. Jumping down from the exam table I adjusted my jeans, pulling up the zipper and fastening the button before I met Jerome's eyes again. “So what happens now?”

Ben grinned, his brown eyes filled with unconcealed relief as he realized I'd decided to keep the baby.

Jerome was washing his hands. “We keep you and your baby healthy. You keep worry to a minimum, get plenty of rest and I'll provide you with pre-natal vitamins. We'll figure out the rest as we go along.”

I rolled my eyes cynically. “You make it sound so easy.”

“I wish it was easy, Charlotte. But we both know it's not.” Jerome rested his hands on my shoulders, looking down into my eyes. “If anyone can cope with this, it's you. I know you're frightened and I know you're grieving. But you can do this, I have the utmost faith in you.”

Ben cupped my cheek against his palm. “Go home and think it over for a little while. You'll no doubt have questions you'd like answered once you've had time to process the news.”

“Good idea. Take the day off and get used to the idea of impending motherhood,” Jerome agreed with a wry grin.

“Epi's expecting me.”

“I'll deal with Epi,” Ben assured me. “I'll tell him we have some blood work to do. He's chomping at the bit to have more people to use the weapons – he'll accept that argument.”

I reached up to throw my arms impulsively around Ben's neck, hugging him close as I kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” I whispered quietly against his ear.

“Charlotte, you know we all love you dearly. We will do anything we can to help you through this. All of us will support you and assist in any way we can,” Ben reminded me softly.

I released my grip on Ben's neck and slipped out the door, stopping outside to get my bearings. I'd scarcely noticed our route coming in and I turned in what I thought was the direction of the front door, my mind still reeling. Pregnant. Pregnant and alone. And fighting a war I had serious doubts we could win.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I leaned against the wall for a minute while I gathered my scattered thoughts.

“Charlotte, honey, what are you doing here?” Nonny trotted up the hallway, carrying a plate of cake. She was wearing her usual vibrant attire; today's ensemble was a bright orange skirt teamed with a crisp white t-shirt. “Have you come to see Conal?”

“Um… yeah. I wasn't sure what room he's in.” Seeing Conal was the very last thing I wanted to do, but I was cornered like a rat in a room full of traps, unable to tell Nonny the true reasons for being at the hospital.

“Come, mi pequeño ángel. I'll show you where his room is.” She gripped the plate in one hand and linked her arm through mine, pulling me along at a pace which defied her advanced years. “He'll be thrilled to see you!”

Thrilled was not the reaction I expected, but I didn't like to appraise Nonny of my concerns. I'd worried for days about this, certain Conal would be blaming me for his injuries. He'd been attempting the exact same thing as Lucas – trying to rescue me from my own stupidity. It was my fault he was in here.

Not your fault, you idiot. You didn't stab him, Archangelo did. My brain reminded me once again of Archangelo's role, but it wasn't helping to overcome the guilt.

Nonny led me upstairs to the second floor and we walked along a bright corridor, stopping at a door on the left. Nonny pushed the door open and walked inside, dragging me behind her. “Hey Conal, look who I found in the hall,” she announced cheerfully. Nonny released my arm and bustled across the room, leaning over to kiss her grandson's cheek. “I can only stay a minute, got to get back to deal with the lunches. I've brought your favorite, chocolate mud cake.”

Conal's eyes never left mine as Nonny bustled about, plumping his pillows and straightening the blankets. I tried to distinguish the emotion in his eyes, but I was so emotionally overloaded, I couldn't comprehend it. His skin was a little paler than normal, his jaw covered with dark stubble from a week without shaving. The bedcovers were drawn over his hips and scattered across his broad chest were the scars from wounds Archangelo had inflicted.

Nonny glanced from Conal to me and grinned, her black eyes twinkling with mischief. “Alrighty then, I'll get back to work. Charlotte, when you've finished here you come on back to the mess. I've got the ladies making fajitas for lunch. I'll save you some.”

“Okay, Nonny.” I smiled faintly, watching as the older woman sped out through the door, closing it soundlessly behind her.

“Hi, Sugar.” Conal greeted me huskily; pulling himself up in the bed a grimace crossed his features.

“Are you…” I took a step closer then stopped uncertainly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm good. Recovering well.” He indicated a chair beside the bed. “Come and sit down.”

Sheer willpower forced my feet to operate and I sank onto the chair, perching on the edge. Conal took a minute to study my face, his black eyes expressionless. “You look like hell, Charlotte,” he finally remarked.

“I feel like hell,” I admitted, rubbing my hands together in apprehension. “I'm so sorry, Conal.”

“For what?” Conal raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely mystified.

“For putting you in danger. For going after Archangelo.” Tears brimmed against my eyelashes, threatening to fall. “For getting you so badly hurt and getting Lucas… and getting Lucas…” I couldn't finish the sentence and lowered my gaze.

“C'mere,” Conal demanded, holding his arms out. He snagged one of my hands and coaxed me towards him. I allowed him to do so, tears spilling uncontrollably as he drew me onto the bed, taking me into his arms.

I cried against his shoulder, unable to form a single word, let alone a cohesive sentence. Conal held me, rubbing his hands soothingly across my back. When the sobbing eased, he spoke. “Nobody blames you, Sugar. What happened was all that bastard Archangelo's fault.”

“I shouldn't have gone after him.”

“You did what you thought was right,” Conal responded calmly. “We were in the middle of a battle. I think Archangelo had it all planned, before the fight even began. He's crazy, Sugar. Completely insane.”

“All the more reason why I should have held back,” I admitted. “I should have stayed with you and Lucas.”

“Charlotte, listen to me,” Conal ordered, his deep voice determined. “The choices we make during a battle have to made in a split-second. You made a choice, it could have gone either way. Blaming yourself isn't going to change a thing, won't fix anything. It's only going to eat you alive, if you keep feeling guilty like this.”

“You're right. I know you're right. But you're lying here, injured and Lucas is… Lucas is…” Again I struggled to complete the sentence.

Conal pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I wish it had been the other way round.”

I raised my head to look at him, my forehead puckering into a frown. “What?”

“I wish it had been me who'd died. Not the bloodsucker. It would have saved you this heartache if you still had Lucas by your side.”

I stumbled from the bed swiftly and turned back to glare at him. “How would that have been better?” Anger was quick to rise to the surface, my emotions a veritable cauldron of bubbling passions.

Conal frowned, rubbing his hand over his chin as he considered. “You loved him Charlotte. I'm just saying it would have been better for you if Lucas was alive.”

“You think I would have felt better if you'd died?” I shrieked. “What sort of person do you think I am?”

“Charlotte…” Conal's eyes widened as he comprehended the intensity of my rage.

I stomped to the door, wrenching it open with enough force to make a sizeable dent in the drywall when the door knob hit it. “For your information I would have felt like crap whether Lucas died or whether it was you! I loved you both!”

“But you chose him!” Conal exploded. He'd clearly reached the end of his tether and his black eyes filled with swift rage. “You can't blame me for thinking you'd have preferred it if I died! He was the one you chose to be with, Charlotte, not me! It didn't matter how much I loved you, you never loved me enough!”