Chapter 15
Edwina
Another seven-hour stretch is in front of us. Either we need to fill the time talking or fucking. Only the former allows us to cover the distance faster. So our conversation continues.
“Tell me about Sheila. Why did ya hook up with her?” It seems a valid question. After all, I did tell Hank about Cash.
Hank grips the steering wheel tighter. “We were kids. In a nutshell, she drew me in, and I fell for it all.”
I side-glance at him. “She was ya first?”
“Naw. My second and longest.” He doesn’t offer any further explanation.
The first rays of sun lighten the sky, turning it a bluish-gray. Spontaneously, my hand goes to my neck and ensures the pendant is in place. Morgan Le Fay charmed the intricate medallion sporting a variety of vampire glyphs and symbols. The trinket is a visualization of a spell she cast. As long as I wear it, I’m able to endure sunlight. Erring on the safe side, I fused the lock, making it a permanent fixture about my neck.
“Ya not going to say anything else about her?”
Hank slouches in the seat. “I loved the shit out of her.” Words full of grief and anger tumble out. “But I didn’t know she was fucking every cat in town!”
“Sorry I brought it up.”
“Don’t do that, Angel. We promised each other we’d face our demons and move on. It’s time for me to do that.” The leather seat squeaks as he adjusts his position. “Sheila was special, but she wasn’t my soul mate. I think I told you that. My parents begged me not to marry her. They told me I should wait, but I let my dick think for me.”
“Ya mean ya beast did the thinking?”
“Humph. That’s exactly what happened. I should have ended it long before she ran off with Tyson,” Hank says sadly.
“But ya honorable.”
“I’m honorable.” Hank turns his attention to the road.
End of subject. He’s not going to say another word about Sheila Montgomery. Why should he? She hurt him deeply. I understand pain. No need for me to dig any further along that path. But something else bothers me. Something which will ultimately affect us.
“What did ya mean about ya beast wanting to meet me?”
My words send the car careening across the highway, uncontrolled. In a split second, Hank jerks the wheel and swerves back into our lane. Thankfully, there aren’t any other cars around us. He shoots a steely gaze at me.
“How the hell…? Do you read minds?” he stammers out.
“No,” I respond cautiously. “I heard ya thoughts. It happens when vampires are close to others. If there are too many people in a room, though, it sounds like mindless chatter. I have to concentrate really hard to find the voice I want.”
Hank’s expression slides into a scowl. “How long have you been listening to mine?”
His emotions are on a roller-coaster ride dipping between anger and disbelief. Tangled thoughts hit me like a foul wind. Silent words and accusations, like shards of glass, cut me. Gripping the door handle tightly, I bite back my tears and block out the barrage.
Wrong move.
I loosen my grip. Staying calm will allow me to help Hank understand. If he wants me to accept his beast, he’s got to learn to play with my monster. She can be a spiteful, angry bitch determined to have her way.
“Pull over, Hank,” I say gently.
For once, he doesn’t question my command and steers the car toward the Welcome Center exit. He pulls into a parking spot. With the motor running, Hank clenches and unclenches his jaw.
Summoning every shred of strength I possess, I say, “I’d like to explain.”
He growls. “I think you should.”
If this… If he rejects me…
Don’t think that. He just needs to understand.
“I don’t purposely listen to ya thoughts. If anything, I try hard not to hear them.”
“Why is that?”
I swallow hard. “I’m respecting ya privacy.”
“You can say that after eavesdropping in my head?” Hank’s tone turns ugly. “Why the hell bother speaking? Just read me. I knew you overheard me talking at times, but getting inside my head…”
Don’t cry.
“Hank, please don’t hate me,” I plead. “This is what I am. I can’t turn it off.”
He doesn’t speak.
I continue. “It’s just like ya beast—”
“That shit doesn’t compare!” he yells, and the car shakes.
I need to get out of this vehicle. Now. Hell, removing my pendant and risking the sun would be preferrable to Hank’s rejection. I pop open the door and stalk across the parking lot. My feet don’t stop moving until I reach a line of trees surrounding the rest stop—a natural shield against the light.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I realize this is the moment I feared the most. If Hank’s going to cast me aside, he should at least do me a favor and end me. I won’t… I can’t exist in this world without him. Not anymore.
In the background, the car engine dies. Heavy footsteps, pounding the pavement, come up behind me. Before he touches me, I warn, “For the record, I hear ya heart.” My voice breaks. “I hear ya fear, too.”
“I’m sorry, Angel.” He closes the distance between us and doesn’t hesitate to put an arm around my shoulder, drawing me against him. His breath fans my face. “I shouldn’t have freaked out.”
Unable to meet his gaze, I keep my back to him and let the tears fall. “What do ya think it does to me? The first time I overheard a person’s thoughts it crept the shit out of me. As far as you and I go… This is foreign territory for both of us.”
Hank steps in front of me, casting a shadow. “Look at me, Edwina.”
“No.” He mustn’t see me cry. I told him I could be strong.
Biggest lie ever told.
“Dammit, Angel.” Hank pulls me into a reluctant embrace. “You caught me off guard. I want this to work between us. But how can it if my thoughts don’t belong to me?”
My posture goes limp as my bones give up their job, leaving my skin to pick up the slack. I don’t want to, but I have to lean into Hank to stay upright. I can’t lose him. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep him with me. Then I remember there’s a way to help him.
“I’ll teach ya to shield ya thoughts,” I mutter.
“Huh?”
Glancing up, I read his emotions, which are all over the map. Hank’s love for me is as clear as the sky. We can do this.
“All vampires learn how to hide their thoughts behind a wall,” I tell him. “I’m sure ya can, too.”
Hank caresses my cheek. “I don’t want to hide anything from you.”
“Just ya thoughts, dawlin’,” I counter. “It’s the least I can do for ya.”
He moves his head from side to side as he purses his lips. “No. I keep nothing from you. Angel, you get all of me. No halfway shit between us.”
The words Hank needs to hear—the words he deserves to hear—dangle on my tongue, but I’m too scared to say them. My reality has always been that men, both human and supernatural, leave me behind. Once they’re done with me, I get cast aside like trash. Hank could be just another name on the list, but I sure hope to hell he’s not. Instead of speaking, I cling to him tighter. We stand there supporting each other while the world spins by. Our fears too strong to walk away. Our darker sides too overpowering to allow us to move forward.
Hours later, Hank is sound asleep, and I’m speeding across the state line into Louisiana. The ability to compel got me out of a few tickets but decreased our time. Less than thirty miles, and we’ll be back in Crescent City.
I’m driving over Lake Pontchartrain, the muddy smell of the Mississippi filtering through the vents, when Hank’s phone buzzes as he turns over in the back seat. I glance at the device lying on the passenger side. It’s Sheila.
As tempting as it is to ignore the call, I realize it might be important. Picking up the phone, I accept the call. “Hello.”
“Where’s Hank?” she says curtly.
“Asleep. What do ya want?” I don’t bother introducing myself.
Sheila’s cruel words lash out at me. “You must be the she-vamp he’s been keeping time with. I need to speak with Hank. Now.”
Her disagreeable tone is meant to instigate. She won’t get me to lose my dignity that easy. I throw over my shoulder. “Hank! Ya need to answer ya phone.”
“Huh? What?” The seat squeaks as he sits up. His hand stretches between the front seats, and I put the phone in it. “Yeah. What’s up?”
I try to turn my thoughts off to keep from hearing Sheila’s heated words.
“What do you mean he’s gone?”
But then again, privacy is overrated. I listen in as Sheila tells Hank that somebody named Michael is missing.
“Edwina, how far are we from some place called Faubourg Marigny?”
My old stomping grounds.
“It’s a neighborhood, Hank. Get her to text ya the address. We can be there in another fifteen minutes.”
Hank delivers the message and then leans over the seat, placing a kiss on my cheek. “Thanks, Angel. Do you think she’s telling the truth about Michael?”
“Possibly. Care to tell me who he is?”
“He’s Sheila’s kit.” Hank exhales loudly and says quietly, “My nephew.”
“Oh.” It’s obvious from Hank’s tone that talking about the child isn’t easy for him. “Unfortunately, I suspect whoever has Michael is using him to draw ya out.”
“How do you figure?”
“Duchamp and Elijah are in contact with each other. If Elijah wanted to know exactly where ya at, he’d do something to force ya out of hiding.”
“You really believe Sheila is that low? Letting Duchamp use her son as bait?”
“Parents aren’t always our best saviors.” Mine couldn’t be.
Hank’s phone chimes with a text message. “She wants to meet me at 2381 St. Claude Avenue.”
I stay on the interstate and pick up my pace. “It’s a marketplace with eateries and a coffee house. Do ya want me with ya? If not, I could pass by Kragen’s house.”
“I don’t like the idea of us splitting up,” Hank admits.
“Dawlin’, ya forget this is home. Let me handle my business with Kragen, and I’ll meet ya back at St. Roch Market.”