Unearthly, The (15 page)

Oblivious to my thoughts, he came over and gazed out at the ocean. “Strange to think that the last time I was in this city with your father was during World War One.” My skin prickled at the thought.

With a shake of his head, he looked at me, and the old, wise Andre was gone, replaced by the fun-loving man I knew so well. “So, what do you want to do? I’m free for the rest of the night.”

I groaned. “I was thinking of going to bed.”

“Nonsense.” He looked at me, his expression amused. “You are such a strange creature. You’re supposed to be changing into a vampire, yet you want to go to bed at midnight.” Andre said the word mockingly. He took my hand. “I have another lesson to teach you.”

“Ugh. Can’t it wait?”

“For what, you to die?”

I fell silent. I had no good comeback.

“There’s an additional incentive: afterwards we’ll do something fun.”

We ended up on the beach. With my night vision, the beach and ocean were a deep and brilliant blue.

“So what’s the lesson?” I asked.

I sat down next to Andre on a blanket we had brought along, our shoulders touching.

“This,” he said, staring out at the ocean. “Civilizations rise and fall, people live and die, times change, but not the ocean. It’s the one thing that remains constant.”

I breathed in the salty sea air. “I’ve always loved the ocean. Now I understand it’s my siren genes that make me long to be close to the water.”

Andre pushed his hair back, watching the waves. “Not everything boils down to a matter of your identity.” He looked over at me. “Speaking of change, have you noticed anything different about your abilities since your Awakening?”

I shook my head. “Other than the sun irritating my eyes and skin, and my heightened senses, nothing has progressed.” I picked up a pebble and threw it at the crashing surf. The pebble shot out of my hand, traveling far and fast out into the ocean. “Andre, why do you care so much about me? And don’t tell me it’s because you’re my mentor.” I looked at him inquisitively.

He was quiet for a long time. Finally he spoke. “I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair. “The truth is that since the moment I saw you across the club, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

We could both hear my heart accelerate
—
yet again.

He continued. “At first I thought it was the chase that attracted me. It was intriguing and frustrating that you weren’t interested in me.” He gave me a devilish smile.

“Then I tried to convince myself that it was because you were Santiago’s daughter, and I wanted to honor our friendship and protect his child. But
—
” he leaned in and pushed back my windswept hair, “each time you were attacked, I panicked.”

He cupped my face. He looked at me like I was beloved. “There are no words to describe what I am feeling. I cannot remember feeling this way. Ever.”

This was crazy. He ate humans for breakfast. Not to mention he was older than Father Time. So why was I falling for him, falling for him when I couldn’t help but push everyone else away? It frightened me to feel this way, yet I couldn’t stop this and didn’t want to.

Slowly, so slowly, he leaned in. My lips met his, and that fire between us ignited again. The current of energy pulsed through us, alighting my skin.

I fell back onto the blanket, pulling Andre down with me. He pressed himself even closer to me, and hesitantly he ran a hand along my face and neck before making his way lower. I gasped as he cupped my breast. No one had ever touched me that way.

He flashed me a pirate smile, and my breath caught. God, he was sexy.

I tried to tug his shirt off, but he gently took my hand and whispered in my ear, “Not tonight.”

I began to pull away, hurt by the rejection. He groaned and tightened his grip as he caught my gaze. “You don’t know how hard this is for me.” His eyes flicked to my neck. “All I want is to explore every inch of you and not let you go until I’ve thoroughly satisfied us both.” My breathing sped up at his words.

He slid his hand up my neck until he cradled my head. “But I don’t want to rush this
—
rush you. Because I’m planning on sticking around for forever, and if I sabotage this now by rushing you, I’ll never forgive myself.”

The pounding of my heart hit a crescendo. And then, the world stilled, just like it had the first time I saw Andre.

I love him.

There it was. The truth I’d been burying ever since I laid eyes on him. Because I didn’t believe in love at first sight, or that anyone could see past my face. But most of all, I was afraid that if I let someone in, I’d lose them, just like I had my family.

“What if I don’t want to wait?” I asked, breathless. Somewhere in the back of my mind, the prudish Gabrielle wanted to take this slow. But my realization and the heat between us had consumed me.

He searched my face, unaware of my thoughts. “You might not want to wait right now, but once you are alone in your bed tonight, you will, I promise.” He leaned in and kissed me deeply. “And I don’t want you to regret anything when it comes to this.”

I wanted to open my mouth and argue, but I knew from his tone that I wouldn’t sway him tonight.

So we lay there as the waves rushed in and out, hands touching and mouths lingering, but nothing more.

At some point later I could see the sky subtly lightening. “Now it’s late.” Andre’s husky voice tickled my skin as he kissed my jaw. Regretfully I disentangled myself. He grabbed the blanket and we walked back. His hand reached for mine, and I took it shyly.

He left me at the door of my room, kissing me one last time. “All I’ll be thinking about until this evening is you.” I blushed
—
blushed
—
at his words. “Remember to wait to talk to Cecilia until I wake.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, smiling. “Night.” I closed the door, and after changing into my pajamas, slipped into bed.

I couldn’t stop smiling. I think they call this giddiness. Who knew I was capable of it?

***

When I woke up, it was four in the afternoon.

I swore. The entire day practically passed me by. If I wanted to see Cecilia alone, I had to move fast. I grabbed the first shirt and pants I saw in my suitcase. Running to the bathroom, I quickly brushed my teeth and shook out my loosely curled hair.

It was hard to explain why it was important I visit Cecilia by myself, but I felt that this reunion was too personal for witnesses. I also didn’t want to bombard Cecilia with our presence.

I wrote a brief note explaining where I was going, and that I did not get kidnapped, killed, or maimed.

I pulled out Cecilia’s address and slid it into my purse. Now came the tricky part.

Four human bodyguards had come along with us, and they had been given explicit instructions to follow me wherever I went. Somehow I had to get by them undetected. I listened at my door. I could hear at least three separate voices chatting in the living room. There was no way I could slip out the door without them seeing me.

I walked out onto my balcony and looked down. I was on the second floor. If I climbed over the railing and hung from the bottom of it, I would only have a few feet to fall. Easy.

Yeah, right.

I swung my legs over, and slowly lowered my body until I only hung onto the wrought iron balcony by my hands. Taking in a breath, I let go. The drop was a lot farther than I had imagined, and my knees stung from the shock of my fall. I shook it off, pulled on my shades, and hailed a cab.

A half hour later I stood outside Cecilia’s beautiful bed and breakfast. As I stood in front of the villa, I suddenly worried my presence was not wanted.

I summoned my courage, and before I could chicken out, walked through the door.

I entered a homey living room. Sitting on the couch across from me was the woman who raised me the first few years of my life. She’d been arranging a collection of magazines on the sitting room’s coffee table, but looked up when the door opened.

“
Buon giorno
 …” Her voice trailed away as her eyes widened. “Gabrielle?” Cecilia covered her mouth.

I wrung my hands together and smiled nervously. “Hi Cecilia.”

Cecilia looked as though she hadn’t aged a day since we last parted. “Come here
tesoro
,” she said, the Italian endearment rolling off her tongue the same way it used to when I was little.

She set her magazine aside, stood up, and approached me, arms open wide. We embraced, and I could feel her wet tears soak into my shirt. “I knew you’d eventually find me.”

She pulled away and patted my cheek. “My, my, how beautiful you are. You are all your mother.” She laughed light-heartedly.

“You knew my mother?”

“Of course,” she said. “Come my dear, you look hungry. Let’s go to the kitchen; it appears we have some catching up to do.”

I followed Cecilia into the kitchen. Sheer lace curtains hung from the windows. A shelf of wines hung from one of the walls, as did a string of garlic.

“Please sit,” Cecilia said, indicating to the table. She pulled out a tray of cookies and poured us each a cup of tea.

I was so nervous I didn’t think I’d have an appetite, but once I saw the cookies and smelled the tea, I remembered how hungry I was.

Cecilia sat down across from me and patted my hand. “We have a lot to talk about.”

It took about a minute to adjust to my surroundings. Cecilia was alive, sitting right in front of me, her dark hair, olive skin, and almond eyes evoking such a bittersweet emotion
—
why had she left me all those years ago?

I let out a breath. The truth was that I had so many questions I didn’t know where to start. “I was brought here by a letter my father left for me.”

Cecilia’s eyes widened for a moment. Then she nodded. “Santiago feared for your life, so he fixed his will, wrote that letter, and gave me instructions on what was to happen to you if he died. I was to take you far away and hide you in an orphanage.

“I thought that an orphanage was perhaps the most awful place for you to go, so initially I wouldn’t agree to it. But in the end, it really was the only way for you to go undetected. He had your birth certificate forged
—
”

My eyes nearly popped out of my head. “You mean to tell me that March twenty-third is not my real birthday?”

She shook her head. “Your real birthday is December eighteenth. You are actually three months older than what your certificate says.” She looked questioningly at me. “You don’t remember this?”

I was speechless for a moment. I’d been celebrating the wrong birthday and didn’t even realize it? Finally I collected myself. “No,” I said, “I don’t remember that at all. I don’t have many memories from before the fire.” I was still reeling from that bombshell. “… So, then is my real name Gabrielle Fiori?”

Cecilia smiled kindly. “Yes. That should’ve been changed too, but Santiago wanted you to keep some part of him.

“I’m so sorry,” she said sincerely, patting my hand. “Your father loved you so much. He was positive that whomever was after him would kill you as well. That’s why he went to such great lengths to hide you. He wanted to make sure that no one would discover you. If he had it his way, you’d still be in Los Angeles, oblivious of who you really were. He felt that was the only way you’d avoid the tangled mess he was in, and the siren’s curse.”

Belatedly something she said clicked. “You didn’t want me to be a part of the supernatural community?”

“That’s right.”

“I assumed you were the one that told Peel Academy of my existence.” My head was hurting. Why weren’t these pieces of my life fitting together?

Her eyes looked sad. “My dear, I have no idea who did that. Someone must’ve figured out your identity. I thought we were thorough,” she shrugged, “but I guess we weren’t thorough enough.” That was a riddle for another time.

Outside the sinking sun seemed ominous. My time was nearly up. I needed some answers. “Cecilia, two people have already tried to kill me.” My voice shook. “Do you have any idea who’s behind the attacks? My dad’s letter said you could help.”

She looked out the window. Her eyes were distant as she spoke. “I saw the attacks in the paper, and I read about your attackers. It could be anyone
—
the House of Keys, a hate group, or perhaps individuals acting independently. But,” she said, turning back to me, “I think it’s most likely an insider. A vampire. No hate group is that persistent, and the House of Keys would be more discreet
—
and more successful.”

“No, that cannot be,” I said, immediately rejecting her theory. There was one obvious flaw. “It can’t be a vampire. They wouldn’t risk killing themselves as well as rest of the vampire population. Andre said so himself.”

“Andre?” Cecilia looked frightened. “You should trust him the least.”

“What?” Why was she acting this way? “He’s helped me since my Awakening.”

Cecilia crossed herself. “That long ago fire? Other than your family and me, Andre was the only vampire who knew the location of Santiago’s safe house, the same house you were raised in and that burned to the ground. Your father trusted him, but I fear he put his faith in the wrong man.”

My heart plummeted. Dread flooded my system, and my pulse beat loudly in my ears. That couldn’t be true.
Please let it not be true.

Dizzy from the adrenaline and the awful tightening in my stomach, I barely managed to voice my next question. “But why would Andre try to kill me?”

“My guess? Because you were born a vampire, and that calls into question the very foundation of his authority.”

“That seems unlikely.”

“Not when you’re quite comfortable with killing humans.”

The only sound in the room was the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall. I sat there, trying to comprehend her words.

Had last night been a lie? Nausea rolled through my stomach at the thought. I trusted him. And he might’ve played me this entire time. I almost had sex with him.

I begged myself not to cry.

“So, you think Andre killed my father? And now he’s trying to kill me?” I held my breath.

She sighed. “I don’t know. But even if he wasn’t responsible, he’s not completely innocent. Just be careful.”

Too late for that.

Andre might be trying to kill me. The realization finally sunk in, and it felt worse than dying. Worse than getting stabbed or shot. It felt like betrayal.

But could I trust Cecilia? I didn’t want to. My heart screamed that she must be lying. It was easy to jump to the conclusion that Andre was guilty. He’d already admitted to me that he’d killed before. But hell, I’d killed someone as well; that didn’t mean I’d do it in cold blood. What made Cecilia innocent?