Forget Me When the Sun Goes Down (Forged Bloodlines Book 11) (4 page)

I skidded to a stop in the great room to find Carys and Ulrik staring down at the guy who was chained to the wall, cursing up a storm.  I supposed I couldn’t blame him.  It’d been disorienting enough to wake up without knowing who or where I was, I could imagine what it’d be like to add being held captive to that list. 

Every cord of sinew stood out on his neck as he struggled against the cuff, his wrist raw.  “What do you want with me?” he growled, giving Ulrik a baleful stare.  “You can’t keep me locked up like this.”

“Holy smokes,” I breathed, not sure what to do.  “What do we do now?”

“You bloody well let me go, that’s what you do!” the man spat back.  Despite the angry snarl in his voice, his accent was crisp and refined, another Brit. 

Rob stood before the guy, insinuating himself into his light of sight.  “Oi, that’s no way to talk to a lady,” he scowled down at him.  “A man in your position might think about putting a civil tongue in your head if you ever want to be let out.”

“Oh that’s rich coming from the likes of you,” he sneered in condescension.  “Who are you people?  I demand that you release me at once!”

“That’s just it, pal.  You’re not in a position to demand anything,” Ulrik pointed out gently.  “I don’t suppose you can tell us who you are?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” the guy clammed up, but there was a wildness to his eyes that made me think he didn’t know the answer to that.

“That’s what I thought,” Ulrik sighed.  “Listen up, ’cause I’m only gonna say this once.  We all woke up trapped in this house, none of us knows who we are or why we’re here or how we’re gonna get out.  This is Carys and that’s Anja.  Your new friend’s name is Rob, and I’m Ulrik, for lack of a better name.  Now, I suggest you adjust your attitude.  If you don’t shut up and behave, we’ll go back to looking for a way out and you can go back to shouting your head off.” 

“You expect me to believe that none of you know who chained me here?” he scoffed.

“Don’t much care what you think, mate.  You can rot for all I care.”  Rob turned his back on him, and I shot him a glare.  We wouldn’t make much progress if Rob kept aggravating the guy. 

The man muttered something under his breath I couldn’t quite catch, but his face smoothed into a polite expression after a few moments’ thought.  “I see.  What’s this about being trapped in here as well then?”

Ulrik took a step closer, his voice patient.  “We think it’s because there’s some kind of spell over this place and over us.”

“A spell?” the man snorted.  “What kind of bollocks is this?  No magic spell handcuffed my arse to this wall.”

“And such a cute ass it is.”  Carys gave him a speculative look, earning her a frown from her fiancée. 

“Okay, first thing’s first.” I stepped in before Ulrik lost his calm.  “Do you have any ID on you?”

“You’re welcome to check, sweets,” he winked up at me, obviously deciding he’d do better catching flies with honey than vinegar.  The rakish smile touched off another fragment of a memory for me. 

Aubrey touched my cheek, and yearning mingled with regret on his face.  “Why couldn’t it have been you who found me all those years ago?”

“Aw, Aubrey, I…” I wasn’t able to remind him that I hadn’t been born until twenty-two years ago as his lips covered mine in a desperate kiss.  No, he wasn’t my type, and no, I didn’t want to start anything up with Aubrey, but to my bourbon soaked brain, all I knew was his pain called out to me and I responded.  It wasn’t about sex, it was about two people reaching out to each other to keep the hurt and loneliness at bay.

In Aubrey’s kiss, I found the acceptance and desire that I badly needed at that moment, and I felt his hunger for the same.  Most of all, what I craved was not to think for once.  I wanted to forget who I was and what I’d seen, and it was impossible to think as long as he kept kissing me.  Without knowing how it’d happened, his leather jacket and t-shirt ended up on the floor next to my bra and I didn’t question it, reaching for his belt.

I sucked in a breath as the tawdry scene vanished as quick as it’d appeared.  Holy schnikes, had I made out with him too?  I didn’t know what to do with that.  Was it before I’d married Rob?  Or was the hurt and loneliness I’d felt
because
of Rob? 

“She ain’t going near you,” Rob growled, tugging me away by my elbow and jarring me out of my train of thought.  Apparently Rob was the jealous type.  Cool beans.  I didn’t mind though, I was still trying to figure out how to tell them that I’d remembered the guy’s name was Aubrey without admitting
how
I knew it.

“I’ll have a look,” Carys volunteered ignoring Ulrik’s displeasure to bend over Aubrey.  “You don’t mind, do you?” she smiled, offering him an eyeful of her cleavage.

“Not at all, luv,” Aubrey grinned up at her.  “Feel free to search anything you like.”

Her hands slid around him, taking longer than I thought she personally should’ve to check his back pockets, before coming up with a silver business card holder and a slim phone.  “Here we are, that wasn’t so bad now, was it?” she purred.

Ulrik plucked the card holder out of her fingers, pulling out an embossed card.  “Aubrey Cantrell, Elder of Vetis,” he read off.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Search me,” Aubrey shrugged.  “Never heard of it.”

“Maybe it’s a gentleman’s club with funny hats?” I suggested.  I’d never heard of Vetis either, and he didn’t look like much of an Elder.  He couldn’t be more than thirty at the most. 

“How does this contraption work?” Carys muttered, turning the phone over in her hands. 

“Here, let me  show you,” Ulrik offered, holding the screen so she could see.  “If there was a signal, it would show right here.  And here is his list of contacts, so we can see if he knows any of us,” he explained patiently.

“You’re so clever,
cariad
,” she simpered up at him.

“It’s pretty basic really,” Ulrik replied, scratching at his upper lip with his thumb.  “And here’s Anja in his contacts,” he looked up at me with a brief smile.  “Nice picture.”

I looked over to see a pic of me dressed up in a fancy ball gown, Christine from
Phantom of the Opera
, it looked like to me.  “Maybe we met at a costume party?” I suggested to Aubrey, who looked at the screen with interest when Ulrik turned it so he could see. 

“Or perhaps I threw it in your honor.  You look magnificent,” he beamed up at me.

“Isn’t she Miss Popular,” Carys remarked with a less than friendly smile, her eyes narrowing to slits.  What the heck was she so ticked at me for?  She had a fiancée of her own.

Ulrik continued scrolling as if she hadn’t spoken.  “But I don’t see any of our names in here, just hers.”

“Well then, it appears we know each other quite well, sweets.” Aubrey smiled up at me, and I felt a wave of guilt.  Were we having an affair?  Or had I dated him in the past?  “I don’t suppose you’d care to free me now that we’re old friends?” 

How could I resist that smile?  Rob wasn’t having it though.  “No bloody way.  I’d rather leave him be where we can keep an eye on him.”

“But he’s hurt,” I pointed out, gesturing to his raw wrist.  “Couldn’t we figure out a way to pry him free from the wall at least?”

“Maybe we handcuffed him for a good reason, did you think of that?” Rob pointed out.  “Maybe he’s the reason we’re in here in the first place?” 

“Even if we wanted to, none of us have the key,” Ulrik agreed. 

“Can we at least get him a chair so he’s not left hanging like that?” I suggested, and Ulrik nodded.

“Sure, we can do that.”

Aubrey didn’t look all that grateful, but at least he wasn’t stuck with his arm up over his head. 

“I’m sorry about this,” I said, while the others briefly discussed what they’d discovered in the search so far.  Ulrik and Carys had found another bedroom, but nothing of interest.  “Can I get you a pillow or something?”

“I’d settle for a drink.  I don’t suppose you’ve come across any bourbon in this place, have you?”

“Ah, sure.”  There was a widely stocked bar on the other side of the room, and I came back with a generous glass full.  “So, you don’t remember me at all?” I asked, handing it over.

“Parts of me do,” Aubrey replied, his eyes full of smoldering charm.  “Unchain me and I’ll show you.”

Ugh
.  Maybe I didn’t want to remember him after all?  I decided then it didn’t matter what I had or hadn’t done with Aubrey in the past, it was staying in the past as far as I was concerned. 

Ulrik held his hand up, catching our attention.  “Hold on a sec, does anyone else hear that?”

“Hear what?” I asked. 

“Like an electronic beep… there… Did you hear it that time?”

“I heard it.” Carys smiled brightly.  “I think it’s coming from the other room.”

“I think you’re right.”  Ulrik flashed her a quick smile, leaving us behind as he went in search of the source. 

I was about to follow when he reappeared, holding aloft his trophy – a cell phone with the charger still attached.  “Anja’s phone,” he announced.

Ulrik handed it over, standing close to Anja as she swiped through the screens.  “Better hurry, that beep means low battery.”

“There’s no signal,” she sighed, her brows drawing together in a pucker of frustration. 

“You can still check and see if there’s any information in there to tell you where we are.  Anything on your calendar...”

“No, there’s nothing,” she frowned, swiping faster.  “Oh... except here’s your picture in my contacts!  It says your name is Bishop though.”

“Bishop,” he repeated, the name resonating with him. 

“Head’s up, Bishop.”  Mason didn’t bother to wait for a reaction, lobbing a soda can at Bishop’s head. 

Bishop reached up and deftly snatched it out of the air without looking.  “Hey, did you get me those reports on the Stenger case I asked for?”

“You bet.  I scanned it before I sent it to you.  It’s pretty much like you thought.  He was tenderized a little then bled out, probably into the mouth of someone we know.  It’s kind of a sloppy cover up really, usually they make a half hearted attempt to disguise the neck wound.  But it isn’t raising any flags in the department.  Why the interest on this one?”

Focusing on the electronics on the work bench, Bishop decided it would be easier to dodge the question than explain something he didn’t fully understand himself.  “It’s… complicated.”

“Yeah, I’ve been hearing a lot of that lately,” Mason muttered, taking a seat on the opposite side of the workbench and grabbing the gear out of his hands.  Bishop resisted the urge to pull it back.  He knew Mason was much better at that stuff than he was, but now his fingers were decidedly empty. 

“Did you talk to Cage about the surveillance op I mentioned before?”

“That’s me, I’m Bishop.  I remember now.  And I think I’m some kind of a cop.”

“Bishop?” Carys’ lips formed a pout.  “I prefer Ulrik.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t.  It never sounded right to me.”

“Okay, Bishop it is,” Anja smiled up at him, and that clicked too, though he couldn’t understand why.  “At least we know we’re friends, we’re in each other’s phones.”

“That’s true.” He smiled back at her, but it melted away when he caught the look on Carys’ face.  He wasn’t allowed to smile at another girl, but she was allowed to stick her boobs in another guy’s face?  Bishop bit back the scowl, returning his attention to her phone. “Who else you got in there?”

“Ah... Aubrey’s in here.”

“There now, you see?  We’re friends as well.  Now would you free me from this wretched thing?” Aubrey rattled the chain around his wrist. 

“Keep your trap shut or I’ll give you something to yell about,” Rob growled at Aubrey.  “I’m in there, ain’t I?”

“Oh sure, of course you are,” Anja replied a little too quickly.  “But ah, this is where it starts to get murky.  I guess I thought it would be fun to stick other pictures in here.  I have Hanna Evans, just like Bishop’s phone, but it’s a pic of Supergirl.  I’ve got a Carter with a pic of He-man, a Jakob with a pic of Skeletor, Felix with a pic of Kingpin.”

“And me?” Rob asked. 

“It’s, um... your picture is a pile of poo,” Anja admitted, and Bishop looked over her shoulder.  Sure enough, there was a smiling pile of poo icon where Rob’s picture should be.  “I’m sorry...” she started to say, but he waved her off.

“No matter.  It’s a joke, I expect.”  Only Rob didn’t look like he thought it was very funny.  He looked like he wanted to hit something, Bishop had seen it a hundred times. 

“What about me?  Am I in your device?” Carys asked, and Anja shook her head.

“No, I’m sorry, I’m afraid not.”

“It’s hardly surprising that we wouldn’t socialize,” Carys sniffed.

“You’re telling me,” Anja murmured, tabbing out of the contacts and into the gallery.  “Oh... This is the Sistine Chapel.  And this one is...”  She frowned, zooming in to get a better look.

“That’s St. Peter’s Basilica,” Bishop supplied, recognizing it instantly.  “Looks like you spent some time in Rome.”

“Maybe we went there on our honeymoon?” she smiled at Rob, who gave her a curt nod.

“Yeah, maybe.”  What was that guy’s problem? 

“Aw, son of a biscuit, it died.” Anja sighed with heavy disappointment.  “I wanted to see where we went next.”

Rob shook off his rotten mood, leaning in to kiss her temple.  “Plenty of time for that later.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“I don’t suppose it matters to any of you, but my arse is falling asleep,” Aubrey said with a petulant whine.

“I’d be happy to kick it for you,” Rob growled, taking a menacing step toward him until Anja caught at his arm.

“Rob!”

Rob’s shoulders rolled, annoyance coming off of him in waves.  “That toff is cheesing me off.  I liked him better when he was unconscious.”

“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” Bishop stepped in.  “I suggest we stop letting ourselves get distracted and go back to our systematic search of the house.  Only report back here if you have a significant find.”

“That sounds smart to me,” Anja agreed, tugging Rob away from Aubrey, who glowered up at him.

“Yes, it’s an excellent plan.  Shall we go,
cariad
?” Carys smiled up at him, tucking her arm through his. 

Bishop responded without thinking twice about it, his hand settling over hers on the crook of his arm.  “Of course, My Lady.  Right this way.”  He wasn’t sure why the formal response came naturally to him, but the way her smile brightened, he had a feeling she expected such old fashioned care. 

“I’ll stay here then, shall I?” Aubrey called out sourly as they all left the room, ignoring him completely.

They’d already searched a room with some items that Carys recognized, and Bishop found it interesting that there was no sign that they’d been sharing the room together.  No men’s luggage or toiletries in the adjoining bathroom.  Maybe she was old fashioned about some things?  There hadn’t been anything interesting in her luggage, apart from the fact that she had some very expensive pieces of jewelry and more shoes than anyone had a right to take on a trip with them, by his way of thinking. 

They ventured upstairs, finding another bedroom with a woman’s belongings, and Bishop wondered if they belonged to the poor dead girl lying on the floor in the great room?  

“Apparently she liked to read,” Carys reported, finding a short stack of books by the bedside table on the floor.  “These are all in Norwegian.”

“Really?”  Hanna was a Scandinavian name, but then again, so was Anja.  “What kind of books are they?”

“
Runic Amulets
,” she read off the spine.  “
Of Oak and Ash, Candleburning Magick
.  I’d say we found our witch’s room.  These belong to a Nelleke Thorsdatter.”

“You can read Norwegian?” Bishop asked, picking up one of the books himself.

“I do,” she replied, tossing them aside without interest in favor of a handwritten journal. 

“And so do I,” Bishop frowned down at the book in his hands, the words making perfect sense.  Why would he know how to speak Norwegian?  What other languages did he know?  Where exactly was he from?  And why did he go by two names?

For long moments he stared at her silhouette against the night sky, the starlight making her hair glow.  Bishop came out onto the terrace, his arms wrapping around her waist as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.  “I’ve wanted to show you this place for a long, long time.  I was born just on the other side of that ridge by the banks of the Volturno river.  I spent many a year walking along that road down there, sometimes we were so poor, I had to wrap rags around my shoes to hold them together, but I’ve always loved this countryside.  I’m so glad I have a chance to share it with you too, bâobèi,” he sighed, his arms wrapping tighter against her middle as he breathed in the smell of sunlight in her golden hair.  

The Italian countryside slipped away and Bishop was back in the bedroom again, watching Carys read a dead woman’s journal.  He was Italian?  And that last bit had been Chinese, did he know what he’d called her?  Yes, he’d called her precious.  And she’d felt precious to him, the most important thing in the whole world. 

So why didn’t he feel a thing when he looked at her now?

“I recognize that look,” Carys said, setting aside the journal to kneel on the bed.  “You’re thinking entirely too much, Ulrik.  Perhaps we should take a break and celebrate our engagement?” she asked, reaching for his shirt and pulling him close.

“It’s Bishop,” he corrected her, his hands covering hers to keep them from wandering.  “And it’s not the time or the place for something like that.”

“It’s certainly the right place,” she disagreed, her gaze darting to the bed and back again.  “And as for the time, there is always time for love, is there not?” she asked, her hands sliding free of his grasp to glide over his chest. 

“Carys...”

“Think of it as therapeutic,” she insisted.  “Perhaps a few minutes of pleasure will release even more of our memories?  Perhaps you will remember saying my name with an altogether different kind of emotion?”

Apparently she wasn’t so old fashioned after all, but he wasn’t about to stop for a quickie while they were trying to find a way out of there.  “You can stay here and pleasure yourself all you want, but I’m going to keep looking.”

Carys laid back on the bed, a speculative smile curving her lips.  “I don’t mind you looking at all, if that’s what you prefer,” she teased, hands sliding over her curves. 

Bishop looked away, hating the fact that part of him wanted to watch very much.  His eyes lit upon a series of three high windows, too small to climb through, but if he could climb up there, he might get a better look at the lay of the land.  Ignoring her heavy breathing and soft murmurs of pleasure, he dragged a chair to the first window.

It was too frosted over to see through, but more importantly, it wasn’t covered with that tingling energy barrier.  “Now we’re in business,” he grinned, hopping off the chair to grab another one, hoping to use it to break the window out.  Not sure how much force would be required to smash the window, he hefted the chair with all his might.  Not only did the window break into a shower of glass, but the chair itself busted into little more than kindling as if it’d been made of balsa wood. 

Bishop stared down at the broken pieces of wood in surprise.  “I guess I didn’t have to hit it so hard.”  Now that the window was broken, he could see out into the night, but there was nothing out there but snow and distant trees.  “Great, now I let in the cold for nothing,” he grumbled.

Carys sat up with no trace of passion left in her face, leading him to believe that the show she’d been putting on from the bed had been more for his benefit than hers.  “My but you’re strong,” she said with genuine admiration. 

“Maybe the chair was faulty,” he shrugged, tossing the leftover pieces aside.  It hadn’t felt unstable though, it’d felt like the same, heavy wood chair that’d easily carried his weight.  Picking up one of the broken legs, he snapped it easily in half like a toothpick.  “On second thought...”

“You’re bleeding,” she declared, clambering off the bed to his side, turning over his hand, which had an inch long gash from the broken glass. 

“It’s not a big deal, it didn’t even hurt.”  Bishop tried to downplay it at first, until he started to enjoy her soft touch.  She really was a beautiful girl. 

“But you’re bleeding,” she insisted, clucking her tongue with distress as she tore a strip from the hem of her expensive dress without giving it a second thought, pressing it to the wound. 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”  But in that moment, he enjoyed her fussing over him, the way a fiancée should.  “I don’t think it’s even that deep,” he started to say, but realized she wasn’t listening to him.  She stood frozen, an odd look of concentration on her face. 

“The blood...” she murmured, her eyes still distant and unfocused.  “I remember caring for you another time.  You’d been stabbed.  There was so much blood.” 

“Stabbed?” 

“Yes, there was a duel.  You championed my honor, of course.” 

“A duel?”  Bishop had to laugh.  “Maybe it was a joke or a demonstration or something.  Nobody fights duels anymore.” 

Her gaze snapped back to the present.  “No, you were magnificent!” she insisted her eyes shining.  “My champion.  You won more than my hand that night.  Oh… your hand!”  Carys realized she was holding onto it tightly, and let go, which made the makeshift bandage flutter to the ground.  “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have let go.” 

“I told you, it’s not that bad,” Bishop insisted, thinking they might find some first aid supplies in the bathroom, but when he turned over his hand, the edges of the cut had already knit together.  Only a faint red line remained to show where the injury had once been. 

“I don’t understand,” Carys murmured.  “You were bleeding, we both saw it.”

Bishop stared at the rapidly healing wound, understanding dawning like a flash of lightning.  First the super strength and now the rapid healing.  “Holy shit… I’m like a superhero!” he crowed with delight.