Chapter 17
Cori
She drifted weightless yet heavy at the same time. Her body floated in a sea of hazy darkness broken only by a thin beam of light glowing on the horizon, telling her there was a way out. She simply couldn’t move to get there. There were no dreams in this solitary place, but neither was there fear, danger, or sadness. It was simply somewhere to rest. With each passing moment, her body grew stronger, and the pain she’d felt before steadily faded away. If only she could remember why she was here.
“Wake up, Cori,” a deep voice said, penetrating the fog.
It pulled at her like a lifeline toward the light.
“Cori.” The man dragged out her name slowly this time. He sounded familiar, but her mind was so muddled that she couldn’t think clearly or remember who he might be.
“Wake up!”
The light burst over her and she shot up in bed, knocking her head into someone hovering over her. She rubbed the sore spot. “Ow, what?”
“You were just as difficult to pull out of slumber as you were to put in it.” Bartol rubbed his temple and gave her a frustrated look. “How do you feel?”
Cori did a mental check of her body. Her shoulder didn’t hurt anymore, though when she moved her left arm, there was still some stiffness in the joint. A faint ache remained where she’d been sliced in her side, but otherwise it felt much better as well. She glanced at both wounds and couldn’t find any sign of them. The healing sleep had done its job. She suspected getting up and about would help dispel any of the lingering soreness.
“Better,” she said.
He narrowed his eyes. “Get up and walk around.”
She slid out of bed, noticing she still wore the same black camisole and underwear she’d put on before going to sleep. Bartol’s expression stayed blank. He didn’t appear to be affected by her near nakedness this time, which was a little disappointing. Cori stretched, testing her limbs. He didn’t even blink. She grabbed her robe from the bedpost closest to her and pulled it over her shoulders to cover her back and the tattoo there, leaving it open in the front. Then she strutted past Bartol to the other end of the room before returning to stop right in front of him.
“I’m okay,” she informed him with a satisfied smile. “Did anything happen while I was asleep?”
“You’re moving a little stiffly. It will take another day or two for you to be fully recuperated—which wouldn’t have been a problem if you’d allowed Micah to finish the job.”
She glared at him. “I’m fine. Now answer my question.”
Bartol worked his jaw. “Melena stopped by to visit.”
“Has she had any luck tracking down Griff?” Cori asked, unsurprised the sensor had come by to check on her.
“Nothing so far, but we’re working on it.”
Bartol was acting colder and more brusque than usual. Before he’d put her to sleep, there’d been concern and worry lurking in his golden gaze, but now she couldn’t see any emotion at all. Something had happened. Something he wasn’t telling her about. Cori wanted to know what had made him even more annoyed with her than usual, but she needed to finish waking up first. The sleep he’d put her under had been deep, and she wasn’t ready to match wits with him quite yet.
“I’m going to take a shower.” She cocked her head. “I don’t suppose you could make coffee while I’m in there?”
Bartol crossed his arms. “Do I look like a man who knows how to prepare coffee?”
“Absolutely. And if you don’t, then you should.”
“The pot will be ready when you get out.” He paused, shifting from foot to foot. “Be grateful Emily forced a coffee maker on me recently when she discovered I did not have one and made me learn how to use it. Otherwise, you would be out of luck.”
“Good for her.” Cori would have to remember to thank the teenager later.
Bartol spun on his heels and left without another word. Something was definitely up, but she’d have to wait to find out. She dug through her dresser drawers, gathering everything she needed so she wouldn’t have to return to her room in a towel. Once satisfied, she carried her bundle to the bathroom, overhearing Bartol moving in the kitchen along the way. Hopefully coffee would do him some good as well. He looked like he’d hardly slept since she last saw him. Had he been guarding her and doing patrols the entire time? When she’d asked him to watch over her, she hadn’t meant that he couldn’t rest at all.
Cori took her time in the shower, letting the hot water soothe away the last of her aches and pains. After she got out, she blow dried her hair and got dressed quickly. The scent of freshly brewed coffee had permeated into the bathroom, calling her name. After nearly two days without it, she wasn’t wasting any time getting her fix.
Bartol wasn’t in the kitchen when she entered, but he’d left a mug on the counter for her. She filled it with coffee, adding some cream and sugar for good measure. The brew soothed her when she took her first sip. For a few minutes, she stood in the kitchen and let herself enjoy it. It wasn’t until she heard movement in the living room that she finally grew curious enough to go out there. Bartol stood next to the couch, waiting for her. He hesitated for a moment when their eyes met, and then he reached down to grab something.
“Do you want to tell me about this?” he asked, lifting a portrait for her to see.
Cori lost her grip on the mug she held. It crashed onto the wooden floor, shattering into pieces and splattering coffee all over the place. She hadn’t bothered to put on shoes yet, so her feet got wet and sticky as well. Cori swayed and had to grip the kitchen doorframe to keep from falling into the mess.
She lifted her head, giving him a hurt and accusing look. “Why would you go through my stuff?”
“I was curious,” he admitted, coming closer. There was surprise in his expression, as if this was not the response he’d expected.
Her gaze fell on the portrait again. She hadn’t looked at it in years, even when she’d moved into the cabin. It was the last one she’d painted of Faith before her little girl died. There was a reason Cori didn’t keep photos of her daughter out in the open and stored most of them at her mother’s place. Seeing them sent her into a dark place every time.
Tears glazed her eyes as memories of Faith flooded her. Her knees buckled, and she started to fall into the broken shards of her coffee mug. Bartol caught her just before she reached the floor and swept her into his arms. She dazedly recalled that this was the second time in two days he’d done that. As she rested her head on his shoulder, she noted his body was tense but that he still kept her as close as possible. He headed for the couch and gently laid her down across it.
“I’m sorry,” he said, lifting her head to put a pillow under it. “I had no idea you’d react that way about your daughter.”
Cori squeezed her eyes shut. “I can’t talk about her. It’s too painful.”
She’d thought confessing everything to Melena had made things better, but she’d been wrong. It only started the healing process and then Griff had stalled it with his continued attacks on her. Maybe she’d never get over it. At least, not enough to reminisce about her daughter without feeling like she was falling apart.
“How did you know that was a portrait of my daughter?” Cori asked, staring up at him. He seemed even taller with her lying down on the couch.
Bartol cleared his throat. “Your mother called yesterday. I told her you were sick and that I was taking care of you. She went on to interrogate me to see if I would be a proper suitor for you. In the midst of that, she mentioned your daughter and how you lost her.”
“Great.” Cori rubbed her forehead. Of course, her mother would spill the beans on her past to a stranger without thinking and give him the third degree. “If she liked you, I’m never going to hear the end of it. She’s determined to get me married off again no matter how many times I tell her it’s never happening.”
Bartol chuckled. “That is the impression I had as well.”
Cori dreaded this next question, but she had to ask. “Did my mom like you?”
“I’m afraid she may have despite my best efforts to dissuade her.” Bartol took a seat on her coffee table. “Melena did not make matters any better when I handed her the phone. She extolled virtues about me that I did not even know I possessed.”
“I’m going to kill her,” Cori swore.
“Melena or your mother?”
She had to think about that for a moment. “Both.”
“I suggest you wait a couple of days until you’re feeling better first,” Bartol suggested, a smile playing at his lips.
“Yeah, you’re probably right. I sure as hell screwed it up the first time I tried offing someone.” Cori covered her face with her hands. “For so long, I regretted what I did to Griff, but now I wish I’d gotten it right. How screwed up is that?” She let out a heavy breath and dropped her arms to her sides.
“I believe most of us wish you’d finished him before, so you are not alone.”
“But maybe I made him into the monster he is now.” And if she had, she had no one to blame except herself.
Bartol gave her a censorious look. “Can you honestly say he wasn’t a monster before?”
“No,” she admitted, memories of his violent temper coming to mind.
When Griff got angry, he lost all reason. He’d enjoyed taking all his frustrations out on her and making her think everything was all her fault. By the time she left him, she’d learned to hide her pain—physically and emotionally—or else he would only hit her harder. Griff’s only saving grace was that he never hurt their daughter. In fact, he wouldn’t even touch Cori if Faith was around or awake to see it. He held back his most violent outbursts for when it was just the two of them. When their daughter was around, he doted on her, buying her toys and taking her to the park to play often. That was part of what had kept Cori with him for so long.
“He killed her, didn’t he?” Bartol asked.
Her throat swelled, and it was all she could do to respond. “Yes, though not intentionally. He’d been drinking, and the roads were bad because of a snowstorm.”
“He shouldn’t have been driving at all, but especially not with a young girl in the vehicle.”
“No, he shouldn’t have, but that’s not what made me try to kill him.” Cori took a shaky breath. “It was his lack of remorse after the fact.” Then she went on to tell Bartol how she found Griff that night.
The nephilim stared out the window, silent. She wondered what he was thinking. Did he see her as a cold, ruthless killer or a mother who’d lost her mind after seeing her dead baby girl? She’d tried making excuses for herself over the years. It would have been easier if she could justify her actions, but she never could fully convince herself. In the end, she’d made a choice, and she had to live with the consequences even as they came back to haunt her now.
“Griff sounds no better than Kerbasi,” Bartol finally said.
As much as Cori wanted to hate the guardian, he was at least trying to become better. Griff, on the other hand, had taken his second chance at life and used it to get revenge. Still, she and Bartol had more in common than she’d realized until now. Both of them had been beaten and broken by men who enjoyed seeing their pain. She just didn’t have to suffer for as long as the man next to her had, or live with scars everyone could see, but she did lose the most precious thing in the world to her—Faith. Cori would have suffered anything to get her daughter back.
Bartol’s cell phone rang. He checked the screen and gave her an apologetic look. “Just a moment.”
While he went outside to talk on the phone, she pulled herself together. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d allowed herself to fall apart in front of a man. With Bartol, it was becoming easier with each passing day to let her guard down. Cori needed to get a grip on herself and stop leaning on him for support. He was immortal. For his own sake, he needed to keep his distance from her because she would die someday—probably sooner rather than later. She wouldn’t have minded sleeping with him a time or two, but now she feared she could actually get attached to him. Neither of them could afford that.
Cori stood, her gaze catching on the broken coffee mug near the kitchen doorway. She wasn’t about to leave that mess, especially since she wanted more coffee. Heading to the hall closet, she grabbed a broom and dustpan to clean it up. She had to take care since some of the shards nearly made it to the living room couch, and she still didn’t have any shoes on. After finishing, she dampened a washcloth and scrubbed her feet.
Bartol came back inside and joined her in the kitchen. “That was Melena.”
“What did she say?” Cori asked, rinsing out the washcloth.
“The sensor informed me that they found a young vampire who looks like Griff, but she isn’t sure it’s him,” Bartol said, watching her reaction closely. “She believes it would be better for you to see the vampire for yourself.”
Cori stilled. “Why don’t they think the vampire is him?”
“According to Melena, he was only made five or six months ago.”
She mulled that over. Was it possible Griff had survived her attack without becoming a vampire, and he was turned later? With the wounds she’d left him, she couldn’t imagine how, but stranger things had happened.
Cori shut off the water and set the washcloth aside. “Give me a few minutes to put my shoes on and then we can go.”
“Not yet.” Bartol shook his head. “The vampire is very young. He won’t wake for at least five or six more hours, and if we want to talk to him, it would be best to go when he is conscious.”
“You can’t force him awake?”
“We could,” Bartol said, crossing his arms. “But a new vampire forcibly woken at this time of day will be feral. It’s a self-defense mechanism because the only reason they should arise when the sun is high is to defend themselves. They can’t think clearly until closer to sunset.”
“I can still go over there to look at him and see if it’s Griff. We can wait around for him to wake up after that,” Cori argued. More than anything, she wanted to believe this nightmare was over and that they’d finally captured her ex-husband. She needed to see for herself.
Bartol’s expression hardened. “You need a little more rest.”
“I told you I’m fine!”
“The vampire is being held at Derrick’s house.” He took a step closer to her. “Until I’m satisfied you’re strong enough, I’m not letting you into a house full of vampires, werewolves, and anything else that might be staying there currently.”
She blanched. “They brought him to Derrick’s?”
“There are dungeon cells in the basement there with chains to hold him and no windows that would let sunlight inside. Melena and Lucas felt it was the best choice, especially since this is still Derrick’s territory, and he’s been cooperating with us.”
Cori supposed that much made sense. “I don’t see what difference a few hours is going to make with my health.”
“For one thing,” he said, heading to her refrigerator. “You haven’t eaten in almost two days, and you are nowhere near full strength yet.” Bartol jerked the door open and started grabbing random food items to put on the counter.
“What are you doing?” she asked, aghast. The pile continued to grow until it could almost feed an army.
“If you will not prepare a meal for yourself, then I will do it.”
He was determined to make her eat and since he was her transportation out of here, he wasn’t leaving her many choices. She stomped closer and crowded him until he stepped away from the fridge. “You don’t even know how to cook most of this!”
“Then save me from it,” he said, a determined glint in his eyes
Cori had no doubt he’d cook if she didn’t. It was sort of endearing that he’d do anything to make certain she ate if not for the fact she wanted to get to Derrick’s and see if the prisoner there was Griff. “Fine. I’ll cook.”
Bartol’s shoulders relaxed. “Good. Let me know if you need any help.”
As he started to leave the kitchen, she called him back. “You’re not getting off that easy. No one learns to cook without getting their hands dirty, so get back in here and watch what I do.”
His face morphed into a martyred expression. Good. If they couldn’t leave yet, then he could be as miserable as her. Cori started sorting through the items he’d pulled from the fridge, keeping the eggs, cheese, and a few other items out while returning the rest. For the vegetables, she put them aside and pulled out a chopping board and knife.
“Start dicing these,” she ordered. “I assume in the last eighteen hundred years you at least picked up that skill.”
“Yes,” he growled, and without her having to tell him, he washed the tomatoes first. As he began chopping, Bartol glanced over at her. “There is one other thing you should know.”
“What’s that?”
He kept his gaze down on the cutting board. “Your truck is ready. We’ll stop by and pick it up on the way to Derrick’s.”
Cori wanted to have her own transportation again more than anything, but she knew damn well he’d only brought it up as another delay tactic. He’d keep her away from that house for as long as possible—likely to give Melena time to interrogate the vampire first. But something told her it was about more than that. Could it have been that he was worried about how she’d handle whoever was locked in that basement? Had she opened up too much to him today, and now he saw her as weak? Cori had a lot to think about as she and Bartol prepared a late breakfast for themselves.