Immortal Unchained(76)

Sarita opened her mouth to say she would, only to close it and glance around as she heard a creak from upstairs.

"That is your grandmother leaving her room. She will be down here soon," Elizabeth commented and then added, "I feel I should warn you . . . she will not be pleased that you are here."

"What?" Sarita asked sharply, her head jerking back toward her. "Why not?"

"Because you have stumbled right into the heart of hell here, child," Mrs. Dressler said unhappily. "People that come to this island rarely leave. At least not alive. My husband sees to that."

"And you allow it?" Domitian asked, his voice deep in the darkness.

"Allow?" Mrs. Dressler asked with dry amusement. "I have nothing to do with it. I am as much a victim and prisoner as those poor hybrids he's created. So is Maria."




 

 

Sarita's eyes were beginning to adjust, or perhaps it was just growing lighter in the room as the sun crept closer to the horizon, but she was quite sure she saw Mrs. Dressler's head turn her way as she added, "Did you really believe your grandmother wanted to abandon the husband and young son she loved more than life itself? Or that she wouldn't have done anything to meet her only grandchild? No," she said firmly. "She had no choice. Her one joy all these years has been the letters first from your mother and then from you. These last fifteen years, she has consoled herself with the knowledge that you were at least safe in Canada, far away from this horror. So," she added grimly, "no, she will definitely not be pleased that you are here. Neither am I, for that matter."

"You?" Sarita asked with surprise. "Why would you care?"

"Your grandmother was kind enough to share her letters with me, Sarita. First your mother's, and then yours when your mother died. She'd read them to me and then write you back, speaking her response aloud as she wrote and I would often suggest she mention this or that. It made me feel a part of it," she admitted. "Those letters have been the only bright spot in a very dark world for both of us over these many years. I've come to feel I know you as well as your grandmother does. I've grown to care for you. And it breaks my heart to see you sitting here on this island within Ramsey's reach."

"Elizabeth?"

Sarita glanced behind her at that call and heard someone shuffling down the stairs.

"In the sitting room, dear," Mrs. Dressler called softly.

"Thorne said there was someone here to see me. Who could-Why are you sitting in the dark?" The question was accompanied by a click and light suddenly burst from overhead.

Blinking, Sarita stood and turned to look at her grandmother for the first time in her life. What she saw was an elderly woman in a cotton nightgown and a fluffy white robe that she was clutching to her throat. She had silver-white hair, startled dark brown eyes, and a kind, wrinkled face that was presently filled with confusion.

"Who are you?" she asked uncertainly, her hand tightening on the bit of robe she clutched at her throat as she glanced to Mrs. Dressler. "She looks like-"

"Yes, Maria. It's Sarita," Mrs. Dressler said, sounding sad.

"What?" the woman said with bewilderment and turned back to Sarita, who nodded.

"Si, abuela. It's me," she said almost apologetically.

"Sarita?" she asked, her voice high. She took a couple of unsteady steps into the room and then just collapsed.





Twelve 




Sarita rushed around the couch toward her grandmother, but Domitian was faster. He even managed to get there and catch her grandmother before she hit the floor, saving her what would undoubtedly have been a good knock to the head. The moment he scooped the fragile old lady up into his arms, her eyes fluttered open.

Grandmother peered around with confusion, but her gaze sharpened as it landed on the face of the man in whose arms she lay, and she demanded, "Who are you?"

Sarita moved closer, drawing her attention and offered a reassuring smile. "It's okay, abuela. He's my . . ." She hesitated and then finished with "friend," frowning even as she said the weak word. It should fit, but Domitian had already become more than that to her. The problem was she wasn't sure what that more was.

"Sarita, dear, turn out the light before Ramsey's man sees it," Mrs. Dressler ordered.

She glanced toward the woman, and then stepped over to the wall and flicked off the light her grandmother had just turned on. But a vision of Elizabeth Dressler was burned into the back of her eyes as she did. The woman was in a wheelchair, not a seat, and there was a terrible scar down the side of her face. A face that otherwise seemed familiar to Sarita despite never having seen her before even in pictures. While she'd sent pictures every time they were requested by her grandmother-which was several times a year-when Sarita had requested one in return she'd been told her grandmother didn't have a camera.