She bowed her head. They’d been so young, and he’d been the answer to every prayer she’d ever had. Their relationship had been frowned upon, but at the time, she hadn’t been able to see the danger in it, and she still didn’t. Vincent had been on his own since the age of sixteen because of his parent’s deaths. She hadn’t meant him until a year later when he’d been the tender age of seventeen, and she’d been only fifteen. Her father died in a work accident, and her mother’s mental breakdown afterward left it impossible for her to deal with a troubled teenager. She’d been sent to live with her Uncle Ron and his wife, Aunt Jeni. She envied the sweet disposition of Cinderella’s stepmother compared to her aunt, even though Aunt Jeni could have moments of pure compassion.
That first day of school had been filled with one trauma after another—that was, until she made it to lunch and saw the hottest guy sitting all alone. She introduced herself. If she’d known then what she knew now, she’d never have done it.
Her hand stroked down the face of the headstone. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to screw up your life. If it hadn’t been for me, you’d have made it to law school. You’d probably have a nice wife with some kids. Hell, you’d be alive.” Her voice shook and the tears flowed. “I know. You probably hate me and wish I’d stop bothering you. It looks like you’re going to get your wish. This is probably the last birthday I’ll get to visit you. I’d have gotten flowers, but the florist isn’t open this late at night.”
She was babbling, she knew, but she’d always hated silence. It gave her too much time to think, and gave too many opportunities for her to remember things she didn’t want to remember. “Anyway, I got that book Shawn wrote like I promised I would.” She pulled it out of her backpack and turned on her flashlight and started to skim through the pages. “That son of a whore. He turned you into one of the vampires. And look, I’m all sweet and innocent.” Her face crumpled. Shawn hadn’t gotten the second part wrong. She had been sweet and innocent. It had been one of the things Vincent loved about her. Everything was all wrong now. There wasn’t any way she could get that part of herself back. It was forever gone. She should be the one in the grave. And if she’d loved him the way she’d believed she did back then, maybe—no—he would still be alive.
“You know,” she whispered as she closed the book. “Maybe I should go back. I don’t know what the vampire was planning on doing with me, but if he wanted to protect me from this Wraith character, then whatever he’s going to do to me is probably what I deserve.”
“You’re probably right,” said a deep masculine voice in bitter tones.
Bryna began to tremble as she stood up and moved her flashlight around trying to find out where the man was. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Are you sure? I’m the only one here.” The voice came from the right.
Bryna swiveled in that direction, slowly moving her light over the gravestones. “I don’t make it a habit to tell strangers my dark secrets.”
“And yet you chatter at the headstone of a man you murdered, where anyone can hear you.”
Her blood chilled. This wasn’t good. She should be running, but she couldn’t get her feet to move. “You’re the Wraith the vampire warned me about?”
His laugh was harsh and maniacal sounding. “What if I am?”
Her body wound tight, ready to run, but she forced herself to stay. She sniffled and wiped away the tears running down her face. “I don’t know how this works. Do you torture me before you kill me, or do you just kill me?”
There was a long silence. His tone was angry when he spoke again. “I am not allowed to kill humans.”
The sound of his voice sent a shudder through her. “But you would if you were allowed?”
The question hung there so long she wondered if the man had left. She was about to sit back down when she saw movement in the direction his voice had come from. She moved her flashlight, but all she got was a dark, cloaked figure standing next to one of the headstones. It gave the man a grim-reaper effect and had her trembling. He started to walk slowly toward her. “I am not allowed to kill humans,” he said again.
“Okay.” Her voice shook, and she had no idea if she should be worried that he could hear her fear or not. This was it. She could run, and save her life, or she could stay and give Vincent the justice he deserved. “Then what do you want with me?”
“Unfortunately, I have to keep you alive for the next week.” His tone was thoroughly disgusted.
“After that?” No! This wasn’t right. He should not be here to save her.
The figured shrugged. “You’re free to die in whatever way you wish.”
“Why do you have to keep me alive?” This was the strangest conversation she’d ever had. It wasn’t making any sense in her head why supernatural powers would want to keep her alive.
“I think you can answer that one.” He came closer, but she still couldn’t see his face.
She stared at the dark figure with a sword showing from the hem of his cloak. He advanced on her. Of course he’d want to keep her alive for the exact reason Vincent got killed. Still, that didn’t automatically make whoever this being was evil. She’d at least hear him out and make a decision when she was feeling more stable. Right now, there could be an earthquake under her feet and she wouldn’t notice with all the chaos spinning in her head. She leveled her gaze on the faint golden glow inside the man’s hood. “Because I’m a freak?”
*
Vincent—the Wraith—flinched back. There were a lot of things he hadn’t expected after seeing her again after two hundred years, or, ten in her time line, but the stark desperation in her once beautiful voice sent ice into his veins. He didn’t like it. There was no reason for him to feel any kind of sympathy for her. His directive was to keep her alive. No matter how much he’d wanted to confront her over the years, he wanted to protect her less from whatever death she thought she deserved. So then why did he feel the tugs of long dead and buried emotions struggling to the surface? He shouldn’t feel anything for her. He didn’t want to feel anything for her. She was a job. Nothing more. His gaze locked onto the most amazing green eyes he’d ever witnessed to this day. Damn it. The week would not pass as quickly as he would like. He forced harshness into his voice, “Do you always babble at the grave sites of men you’ve murdered?”
She wrapped her arms around herself and took a step back. Her head bowed. “I have nowhere else to go and he…I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t be here.” She stooped down and gathered up her belongings and then ran.
He stood there and watched her run away from him. It seemed that no matter how much time had passed, she still affected his thinking and his body. Damn that woman. She should be the one standing here. If he’d have known how things were going to turn out…Ah, hell, he’d still have talked to her that first day when she’d been the only one brave enough to come to his lunch table alone.
He snarled at himself and his own stupidity before he went after her. There were vampires all over the woods surrounding the churchyard. The parking lot wasn’t sacred ground. They’d make short work of a tiny thing like Bryna. As much as he hated to admit it, watching her die wasn’t on the top of his to-do list. He still didn’t know exactly what he was supposed to do here, aside from keeping her alive. Felix hadn’t been forthcoming with information. He’d cryptically told him he had to talk to Bryna about it. Now he knew. She was a freak. Great. That explained everything quite nicely. He moved out in front of her just as she made it to the gate and blocked her path.
His voice boomed out in a roar. “Do you have a death wish? You have to live for the next week.”
She skidded to a stop in front of him. Her tiny body trembled as she cowered back, but there was steel in her voice. “After that, I’m free to die however I want?”
“I cannot hurt you,” he snapped. “Do not cower away from me.”
Her back snapped straight and her chin lifted. “Why not? If you could kill me you would. Isn’t it a little stupid not to be afraid of—whatever you are—when you could actually kill me. I’m just supposed to believe out of hand that you’re not going to kill me?” Her teeth ground together as she glared up at him. “I’ll do whatever you tell me I have to do, okay? Run away from whatever danger is after me this time, stay and fight it or put my head on a chopping block for you to hack it off.” She dragged in a breath. Her tone was hysterical and her body shook viciously. “Why?” she screamed at him. “Why aren’t you here to kill me?”
Vincent stared down at her. Where she’d been bright before, feminine colors with ribbons and flowers, now she was too-tight black and bloodred with harsh black eyeliner and spiked dog-collar Goth. For the last two centuries he wondered about why she’d killed him, and what secret she’d been keeping from him. He still didn’t know the answers, but the girl he remembered was nowhere to be found in the woman standing before him. It scared him. On a deep level he hadn’t been aware existed before, this tiny replica of his Bryna scared the ever-loving hell out of him. He’d thought there’d have been something left of the girl he knew, but he stared down at a stranger. A stranger who dangerously teetered on the edge. He set his jaw and shoved back every bit of the feeling and raw emotion wanting to tumble out. “Why did you kill a man you said you loved?”