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Amie yanked the door open. “Perfect timing. I’m almost done.”
Dragging herself into the kitchen, Davina sighed from the delicious aromas. “Gawd, that smells great.”
“Chicken fajitas. They had a wonderful variety of meats and vegetables in the fridge and a simple request to the front desk got us some tortillas.” Amie pointed to the mini bar in the corner of the living room, the layout a mirror image of Davina’s apartment. “Throw together a couple of margaritas and then help me with the guacamole.”
“Sure thing.” Davina shuffled to the wet bar and mixed the drinks—on the rocks minus the salt. Margarita glasses in hand, she carried them to the island in the center of the kitchen.
She grabbed the nearest cutting board and knife, and Amie shoved the ingredients within reach. As she started dicing a tomato, guilt stabbed Davina’s belly. “Mom, I am so sorry I didn’t believe you.”
Amie’s shoulders dropped an inch, and she stopped stirring the food in the skillet. Dialing down the heat, she faced Davina.
“Listen, I understand why you didn’t. I really did think Broderick was going to arrive within a month or so of me dumping all that information on you, so I really wasn’t concerned with how crazy I sounded. What I should have done was taken more care about what I said or maybe even waited for him to arrive before I said anything. So I want you to stop feeling guilty about what happened. And I don’t want you to be angry with him.”
Amie tore open the bag of tortillas. “The truth is he had a very good reason for being late. He thought the prophecy was telling him he needed to kill you or hand you over to his enemy. Broderick loves you, Davina. More than you’ll ever know. The last thing he is going to do is put you in danger.”
“What?” Davina frowned. He loved her? He’d just met her. “I know you have this fanciful idea we’re soul mates.”
Amie snorted. “Fanciful idea, my ass, baby girl.” She yanked a pair of tongs from the drawer to toast the tortillas on the open flame. “You’d better start getting a handle on the whole concept that you’ve been his wife through many incarnations over the centuries.”
“Mom, how can you be so sure—”
“No.” Amie whipped around and pointed the tongs at Davina like a scolding finger. “This is not a theory.” She cut the gas to the burner and tossed the flat bread and utensil aside. “This is not a fanciful idea. This is not something I just made up for the sake of entertaining myself or some past-life regression. You can’t look at everything we’ve been through in the last three hours and tell me you’re still in denial. The Army of Light, the Illuminati, vampires, werewolves...they all exist. Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt. Why would you still resist the idea that you two are soul mates? You’ve had years to research the internet, ask me questions, do your own investigations about everything I’ve told you. Those conspiracy theories are based on some truth. But you’ve been avoiding them the entire time. I know it was easier to think I was crazy, but—”
Davina slammed her fist on the counter. “That is not true! It killed me that you were in there!” Tears stung her eyes, and she dropped her butt to the stool beside her.
Amie skirted the island and wrapped her arms around Davina. “I know, honey, but thinking I was nuts was better than thinking there were monsters or that you were caught up in a horror flick. I get it.”
“No, you don’t.” Davina pulled back from their embrace. “You’re asking me to fall into the arms of the man who had you committed.”
“Broderick didn’t know.”
Davina opened her mouth to protest, but Amie covered it with her hand. She crossed her arms and her mother released her.
“Listen to me. I told you, Broderick believed the prophecy was telling him he had to kill you. Broderick loves you so much, he buried himself in a crypt.”
“That’s absurd.”
“So are vampires and werewolves, and yet they exist. Broderick buried himself to protect you. When I went to Scotland to see him, he didn’t even know I existed. He was already two years underground and Anthony didn’t know anything about me. I cannot blame their company or lawyers for taking legal action against a crazy woman who stupidly touted she was an old friend from another life. Why would anyone believe that? I mistakenly thought if I caused a fuss, Broderick would learn the truth. But that’s not what happened, and being pissed at him because he was ignorantly sleeping in a grave isn’t going to change the past. I am responsible for my own actions, not Broderick or Anthony. Not even you.”
Amie may have been right, but Davina wanted someone to pay for the last four years of living without her mother, for the turmoil she had been through.
“Hell, I could’ve even contacted Broderick as soon as I gained my memories, as soon as I knew I was giving birth to his soul mate.” Amie shivered. “But that just seemed smarmy. ‘Hi! I’m Amice and my daughter is your soul mate. Let’s raise her together so you can marry her later.’ Ugh!”
Davina burst out laughing. She couldn’t help herself. “Gawd, I’m so glad you didn’t do that.”
Amie’s laughter mingled with Davina’s and, once it subsided, she wiped the tears from Davina’s cheeks. “I’m not faulting you, honey. That’s not what this is about. I need you to wrap your head around all this now. We can’t afford to pretend anymore. Let’s just skip the guilt. It’s a waste of time, anyway. This is where we are. This is your destiny and you’re just going to have to put your big-girl panties on and start accepting it.”
Davina chortled through her tears. When Mom said to put on her big-girl panties, that was the end of the argument and she needed to move forward.
Reluctantly, she nodded.
Amie kissed her brow and gave Davina some space.
She drew a deep breath, held it, and released the toxic bullshit churning through her insides. Taking a large gulp of sour mix and tequila helped to soothe the rest of the resistance and she nodded again.
“Okay, I’ll stop fighting you on this. You’re right. I saw Broderick get shot with a dozen silver bullets and he healed me with his magical blood. I was there when the place exploded, and the doctor said I could’ve died if Broderick hadn’t helped. That was pretty miraculous.”
She tried to convince herself to accept the unbelievable incidents and downed another mouthful of her drink.
After a few more swallows, she sighed. “I’m sorry you have to repeat yourself, but could you give me the highlights again?”
Amie grinned over her shoulder. “I thought you’d never ask.”
While Davina made the guacamole, Amie finished the fajitas and began retelling the history of Broderick MacDougal and his soul mate, Davina Stewart-Russell, widow and mother of her little girl, Cailin.
Although most of what Amie related was familiar from when Davina had heard the story years ago, she now absorbed the information with a clearer mind...or at least she did her best to try. She no longer thought her mother had lost it or purposely blocked the information because she was clinging to denial like some jaded lover.
Over dinner and more margaritas, she learned that she and Broderick had a love like no other. A love worth dying for. And even though her mother spoke of Davina doing this deed at this time, or triumphing over some circumstances or another, she had a difficult time picturing herself in the various situations.
It was more like listening to fairytales of someone else. Grand adventures that belonged in a paranormal romance novel. If he hadn’t already been swimming in dough, Lord MacDougal could’ve made a mint from publishing the stories.
The bottom line, though, was that throughout their past lives, Broderick, Angus and Davina had become three keys to a prophecy, and this was the lifetime in which those three keys were coming together to unlock the fate of all Vamsyrians.
Their obstacles were many. The Illuminati, who did not want redemption for vampires. The Vamsyrian Prince, who wanted the prophecy fulfilled, but no one believed his intentions were honorable or knew why he pushed for this outcome. And the strained relationship between Broderick and his half-brother, Angus Campbell.
Angus had stolen Broderick’s ship back in 1888, along with some of Broderick’s prized possessions, and the brothers were still not on speaking terms. Angus was definitely not to be trusted, but he and Rick needed to reconcile in order to fulfill the prophecy. Because Angus was family, which was the most important thing to Broderick other than Davina, Angus was also a vulnerable spot for Rick. Their familial relations were the only thing that had kept them from killing each other, though they did, indeed, come close on a few occasions throughout the centuries.
The conversation moved to the couch and Davina sat back and mulled over the monumental information, grateful the alcohol had released enough of her inhibitions to listen and stop judging.
“I know.” Amie placed her hand on Davina’s knee. “It’s a lot to take in.”
“Okay, so let me get this straight.” Davina put her margarita on the coffee table and counted off her lives on her fingers. “I’ve been an abused woman during the Renaissance with a baby daughter, who years later Angus kidnapped when she was about to get married; a fire witch in Germany during the Thirty Years War; a wolf shapeshifter pirate in the Shetland Islands in the eighteenth century; I almost got killed by Jack the Ripper in London and Anthony is my son from that life.” She skeptically twisted her mouth. “Oh, and you’ve been with me the whole time as a Gypsy woman, my grandmother, an old Norse shaman and an elderly roommate I was homeless with. Did I miss anything?”
Amie laughed. “No, that about sums it up. I’m surprised you got it straight, but you took out all the beautiful romance.”
Davina grabbed her drink and finished it off. “I’ve certainly led some interesting lives.”
“Are you still mad at Broderick?”
She harrumphed. “That’s a good question.”
Davina nibbled her bottom lip, thinking over the heroic deeds of this immortal man who was supposed to be her soul mate. Of course, she could only take her mother’s word for the unimaginable events she’d narrated over the last two hours.
“It’s obvious you think highly of him and he has done some amazing things.” She recalled the sacrifices he’d made for her. “I suppose I could cut him some slack.”
Amie chortled and emptied her glass. “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.” Her mother stood and took Davina’s drink. “It’s after eleven and I’m exhausted.” She sashayed to the kitchen and put their glasses in the sink.
Davina went to the dining table to clear the dishes. “I should probably try to see if I can get some sleep, too. I guess we have an early morning.”
Amie and Davina put away the leftovers and loaded the dishwasher before Davina kissed her mother’s cheek. As she turned to leave the apartment, her mother grabbed her arm and swept her into another embrace. “I’ve missed you, baby girl.”
Tears stung Davina’s eyes and she squeezed tight. “Me, too, Mom.”
Amie wiped Davina’s cheeks dry. “Now go on to bed, sweetling.”
Once inside her apartment, Davina closed the door and leaned against it. The quiet was deafening. She changed into her yoga pants and a comfortable cotton night shirt, then paced the living room, still restless about her new direction toward the future.
Pull up those big-girl panties...
If she was being completely honest with herself, life had taken this bizarre detour six years ago. And as she pondered her past, hindsight gave her the ability to realize her mother had been trying to prepare her for this day since she was a child. Hell, since birth. Her name said that.
Then Lord Broderick MacDougal had come barging into her gallery like he owned the place, and all the carnal sensuality of her dreams had hit her like a Mack truck. In the short amount of time she’d been around him, there was no mistaking the fierce protectiveness he had for those close to him. The way he’d held her mother, vowing to make up for the years she’d been committed, melted the anger Davina clung to so desperately.
Even if her mother hadn’t named her after Broderick’s true love of the sixteenth century, it was hard to deny the efforts she’d made to prepare Davina for his arrival. Amie was not only a psychic, a Reiki Master and a tarot reader, she was heavily involved in metaphysical studies and a certified hypnotherapist specializing in past-life regressions. And Davina had been subjected to it all since she could walk. Even Amie’s encouragement of Davina’s interest in Renaissance artwork made sense.
The signs were there and Davina had ignored them. If Amie had remembered her past lives, she had probably been trying to get Davina to remember hers, too.
She paced, poured herself a whisky and flopped onto the couch. Sleep was a pipe dream.
Damn, it’s going to be a long night.
* * * * *
Broderick had spent the better part of two hours getting acquainted with the Army of Light Headquarters. The place was a maze. There were six floors in total. The bottom three floors were apartments—which were pretty damn nice, considering the location deep beneath the city—and above the living quarters were three floors making up the workings of the organization.
Just above the apartments was an industrial kitchen, a cafeteria, enough non-perishable food to last a year if they were ever sieged and enough perishable food for a month. The main operations level, with conference rooms and a hospital wing, was above that, and the top-most level had dozens of storage rooms and a communications hub with an extensive data center, giving all Army of Light personnel and guests internet and cellular access to the world above ground.
Broderick had also made a quick stop to see the attending physician. Dr. Doug Thompson—surprisingly, a Water Elemental—had caught him up on Davina and Amie’s health. Rick was relieved to know they’d healed well and there was no long-term damage.
He darted down to his apartment to swap his uncomfortable dress shoes and bullet-ridden tuxedo with his boots, jeans and a t-shirt. While he was there, he’d contacted his assistant Matthew and checked in. They were all right, but some of the people in the gallery hadn’t survived. He told Matt to make monetary arrangements for their families. It was the least he could do.
When he returned to the main operations floor, he tried to see what he could do to help with the boxes and pallets being classified before moving up to the storage rooms. Anything to keep his mind off Davina while he gave her some space.
He kept ordering people to allow him to help, but they consistently refused. It was a foreign idea to Rick. No one...no one had ever told him no. Well, except Malloren Rune. Other than her, there was never an option for anyone to do otherwise.
“I know you mean well, Lord MacDougal,” Martinez said when Rick cornered him, demanding answers. “But we’ve got this. Your job is to be the Protector and watch over Davina.”
So, Rick changed tactics. He asked what all the bustling was about, and Nelson easily warmed up to the subject. Though the Army of Light had been in Los Angeles for decades, the shipments flooding the organization were artifacts and relics related specifically to the prophecy. They wanted to be sure they had everything on hand since the historic moment had finally arrived. Getting caught with their pants down—academically speaking—was not something they could chance.
Eventually, Martinez let Rick lend a hand, and the assistant administrator grudgingly admitted his superhuman strength was an asset. Once Broderick had done all he could, he checked out with Martinez and retired to his suite to take a nice long, hot shower.
A little too optimistic, he turned down his covers on the king-sized bed in anticipation of a good-night’s sleep. Ha! His Blossom was in the next suite over, perhaps even sleeping from exhaustion. Moving boxes and crates hadn’t distracted him from thinking about her or craving her presence. How the hell was he going to keep his mind off her when he knew she was just a few feet away?
With a towel knotted at his hip, he sauntered out of the bedroom and helped himself to a generous glass of Bowman’s Scotch—the twenty-five-year-old bottle the mercs had taken from his hotel room, not the twelve-year bottle they’d stocked in the wet bar. He savored the smooth whisky all the way down to his belly.
The Hunger reared its ugly head. He went to the fridge and pulled out one of the blood bags Martinez had mentioned they’d stashed in the bottom drawer.
Broderick wrinkled his nose at the chilled vampire cocktail. He’d never had blood from a bag, always drinking it live from his donors or victims.
Dreading the experience, he grabbed another rocks glass and twisted the stopper off the plastic sack. He hesitated before he let the thick, red liquid ooze into the glass. The scent wasn’t as strong as warm blood, but it was enough to stoke the Hunger. He tipped his head back and drank.
For the love of Zeus! That was atrocious! The unnatural, bitter essence of the plastic bag along with the anti-coagulant superseded the sweetness he normally enjoyed in human blood...and it was cold to boot.
Broderick coughed and gagged into the sink.
Surprisingly, the Hunger demanded more, so he quickly emptied the rest into the glass and tossed the deflated bladder into the garbage.
Grimacing, he held his nose and gulped the last of the offending meal down his throat. “Good Gods.”
He sucked a healthy amount of whisky, swished it around like mouthwash, and swallowed. Rick chased that with the rest of his glass and stomped across the room to refill it. This time, he took the bottle with him. Pacing, he downed two more glasses before his taste buds seemed close to being normal.
He shuddered. He wasn’t doing that again.
Admittedly, the cravings of the Hunger subsided. Though animal blood was much more pleasant in comparison, the plastic-infused human blood did the trick to chase away the need, something animal blood could never accomplish.
Broderick shuffled to the couch and sat, dropped his head to the cushion and stared at the ceiling.
She hates me.
He cursed under his breath. He’d buried himself in a crypt so neither of them would feel the longing of being separated and, because of that, she hated him. He shouldn’t have waited so long. Better yet, he should have just come out here as soon as he heard the sixth sign, swept her off her feet and stole her away from all this.
Lifting his head, he scoffed and swallowed more whisky.
Would it have mattered? The words from Malloren’s paper assaulted his thoughts...
The Chosen One transformed unwillingly is the Deliverer of God’s wrath.
What if that was their destiny? What if this damned prophecy always meant for them to end up like this? Wouldn’t that be the proverbial kick in the arse. Falling in love with the one woman he was destined to be without?
And why not? There were times it seemed like he and Davina never stopped running from this fucking prophecy. It loomed over them, casting a shadow on every happy moment they shared. And now that the end was in sight...now that he might actually get the chance to be with his soul mate for eternity, what if it was never meant to be?
A grunt dislodged his shoulders, and he shook his head. “Fuckin’ figures.”
The doorbell chimed, and Broderick cussed. What the hell did Martinez want now? He’d said he was done for the night.
He set his glass on the coffee table and crossed the living room to the front door. As he swung it open, his lungs emptied in a rush of disbelief.