Her Billionaire, Her Wolf(45)

“Among the tilted and broken headstones was a simple stone cross. It was newer than the rest and was set at the head of newly turned soil. A grave recent enough that the grass had not yet grown it over like the rest of the cemetery gone wild and forgotten.

“'What am I supposed to see here?' I asked him. I was still far too impatient with that old man.

“‘It was not by hazard that the man who was your father brought you to us,” he said, “And while I do not believe he ever meant it as a kindness, it seems to me that he must have thought it a logical thing to do, considering what he knew.’

“He nodded to the unadorned grave marker and said, 'There lies a pious woman, Clement. Even if the rest of them think it wise to lay her to rest where she will be forgotten. Here where they won’t be reminded of her and her sainted life. The fools.

“‘This was a woman who took an oath to never utter another word for the rest of her days, if God would only see fit to wash the stain from her soul. For, you see, she had been marked in terrible sin. Something dark enough that it burned her through and through the rest of her days.

“‘Except that she loved the boy she saw through the wall. Despite the sin that created him, she loved him.

“‘Do you understand, Clement? She loved him and knew regret, I have no doubt, that she had sworn to never tell him.

“‘And that is piety that leaves me small in my pitiful efforts. Every monstrosity I have wiped from this world is as nothing compared to the sacrifice she made for her God and for that boy.'

“I was impatient and did not really follow what he was getting at. Not then, anyway, but eventually, what he said that day sank in.

“And when it did, the fire within me, the one that burns to destroy vampires, werewolves, or the undead, was ignited in a righteous bonfire that burns me even now to the bone.

“I've gone back to the monastery just once since I left. In that time, I had vagabonded all over Europe, mostly in the east, striking at the hearts of old world blood drinkers until I could find no more.

“Then, I turned my attention to what lay over the Atlantic, but before I left, I went back and saw to it that the little forgotten cemetery would be taken care of properly. I also replaced that poor little stone cross with one not much richer, but one that is at least inscribed with a woman's name.

“Rose Duchamps.

“She never spoke to me, but her sad eyes told me all I need to know.”

Clement’s jaw bunched as he chewed over the memories that burned within him before speaking again.

“I will kill them, Sara...anywhere I find them, I will wade through them until there is nothing left.”

The cold in his eyes had returned and seeing it, Sara felt a chill wash over her. Clement Duchamps. As he said, he was no Abraxis and that thought terrified her beyond words.



~~~



She watched him for a while.

His chest rose and fell with the easy respiration of a man at rest. A man more at ease in that moment than she had seen him yet.

Sara frowned as she thought about what Clement said and how it would take away Braze’s calm. She did not want to be the one to do that and wondered how she might set it aside for just a little longer.

Beautiful, long lashes parted to let the amber of his gaze slip through and she understood that he had not really been sleeping. Only resting.

“And why such a frown, Sara?” he asked as he lifted himself up on an elbow.

“Oh,” she said, “It’s nothing, really. Nothing that can’t wait, anyway.”

Braze smiled at her. Not a full smile but just a light upturning at the corners of his mouth.

“You would spare me, darling girl,” he said, then patted the bed.

Sara went to join him and Braze brought his face close enough to kiss then rubbed his nose across her own instead.

“There is no need. I awoke just a short time ago, but my hearing is keener than you might guess. But, not Clement. He knows full well and his words were not destined for your ears alone.”

She thought she would cry as he looked deeply into her eyes. On his face she read only his concern for her where there should have been anguish or mourning for what his father had done to him and his brother.

“I’m sorry,” she said, wanting to embrace him and console him for emotions he did not seem to feel.

“Don’t be, Sara...Clement’s story needed to be told.”

She shook her head.

“No. I’m not sorry about that. I’m sorry that you two had such an awful man for a father. How anyone could do such a thing to his own sons...well, all I know is that he must have been a very hard hearted man.”

Braze sat back from her and she saw that he looked past her into the blue outside one of the jet’s windows.