“Thank you, Gentlemen.” John bowed his head and stood up. “I will take my leave while you deliberate.”
John came and stood beside me. I felt relieved since I was certain the inquisition was coming to an end, and I’d passed whatever test I’d just undergone.
“Come Bryn, we’re finished here, and you’ve got to get going. Although, I do apologize that I’ve sentenced you to two long days with your . . . what was the word you used?” John rubbed his chin with pleasure. “Cranky, wasn’t it? Yes, two days alone with your cranky professor.” A few low-strained chuckles came from the Council.
John looked at me with expectancy in his eyes, before pointing with them towards the Council. I understood his hint. “Thank you Gentlemen, it was nice to have met you.” Did I sound as convincing as I hoped? I was getting better at burying my true feelings, especially when it was needed to keep the person I loved safe.
The six remaining men at the Council table nodded their heads, and a couple even smiled their farewells. John turned me around and escorted me through the cavern. The spring returned in my steps, and my heartbeat changed from one of anxiety to one of anticipation. What could it be, one minute until I saw him again . . . maybe two?
Noting my hurried pace, and mistaking it for another reason, John leaned in closer than was appropriate given our relationship, and whispered, “I do apologize for the formality to this meeting, but it was necessary. The room is a little intimidating, as is the Council, but you have nothing to worry about now.” He affixed his hand to my elbow and fingered the surrounding skin in slow circles with his thumb. “Unless you do something to break the code.”
From the corner of my eyes, I saw the smile creep onto his lips and I could guess what code he was referring to me breaking. I didn’t respond, and focused on not shuddering under his malignant touch. I could see the door in front of us, and my pace quickened again. John pushed open the steel door, and I jumped onto the first floor in my excitement. He shut the door behind us and escorted me back to the foyer, replacing his hand on my elbow.
As soon as we entered the massive foyer, my eyes found him—they were drawn to him as a compass was to north. He was sitting on the last step of the staircase, slumped forward, and his hands were clasped around the sides of his head. He looked up when we approached, and while his body posture indicated something was wrong, his face took my breath away when I saw the despair written across it. I watched a hint of relief wash some of his worry lines clean when he saw me walking towards him, so I smiled, hoping it would eliminate the remaining worry from his face.
“I do apologize for keeping Miss Dawson from her studies this morning, but the matter was pressing,” John said, attributing William’s discomposure to something else thankfully. “Since you’re taking her away for a couple of days, it had to be attended to immediately. She is set to go now, so you’d better get going if you’re going to keep her on schedule with her studies.” John’s eyes searched the room. “Is Patrick here, as well?”
William’s eyes didn’t leave mine when he responded, “He’s pulling the car around front.”
“Well, you’re on your way then,” John announced, and released my elbow to grab my hand. “Have a safe journey.”
He raised my hand to his lips and pressed them to it. I felt nauseated, but did my part, and didn’t snap my hand away from his lips and smack him across the face like I wanted to. Done pressing their poison into my skin, he removed his lips, lowered my hand, and walked away. “Good journey to you Mr. Winters,” he bellowed, before exiting the foyer.
I walked over to where William sat motionless on the stairs, and kneeled beside him. I wanted to raise my hand to his cheek . . . to offer some kind of physical reassurance, but I knew I couldn’t.
His eyes wouldn’t meet mine. They just glared angry holes into the marble floor.
“Hey, look at me,” I asked softly. “Please, William. Look at me.”
His eyes shifted to mine slowly—as if trudging through waist-deep snow—and the anger and terror still held them captive, but I didn’t let them detour my courage. I smiled. “See, I’m alright. No harm done, I promise,” I reassured him. “So please, cheer up. You’re killing me with the way you look right now.” I nudged his shoulder with mine. “Don’t make me do something to you right here on the stairs that would get us into trouble. A lot of trouble.”
His face didn’t change immediately, but his eyes stared into mine—looking hard and deep like they had on so many occasions before. I held his gaze, allowing him whatever he needed right now.
The torrid emotions finally began to melt from his eyes, but I held his stare. The final remnants were swimming away when he jolted up, guiding me up with him at the same time. “Let’s get out of here,” he whispered urgently.
He reached for my hand, and despite the fear the Council had just impressed upon me minutes ago, I couldn’t shy away from his touch. At that moment when he touched me, I didn’t care. I didn’t think about the Council and their warnings, and the code admonishing the right for one Immortal to choose another of their own accord to spend forever with. His hand in mine made everything right, and any of the remaining dread from the Council and that awful room, followed by seeing William slumped in misery, melted away and I felt nothing but content.
He rushed me out the front door, still gripping my hand in his.
“My bag,” I reminded him, looking to the top of the staircase where I’d left it as he pulled me out to the front porch.
“It’s already in the car,” he answered, as my eyes continued to scan over my shoulder for anything that I might have left behind.
“Please, Bryn.” He screeched to a stop. “I need to get you out of here. Now.”
I startled at his abrupt response; there was so much urgency in his voice. Viewing my reaction, he softened some. “I don’t mean to alarm you.” He attempted his most convincing, mischievous smile. “I’m just eager—to put it lightly—to have you to myself the next couple days,” he said, and even though the smile wasn’t quite right, it still gave me crazy heart palpitations.
“Not completely to yourself, Professor.”
Patrick came out of nowhere, and was standing at the bottom of the stairs. He was dressed in his usual black three-piece suit—although today’s version was pin-striped. William’s Bronco was behind him and running—they were both in a hurry to get out of here.
“Holy smokes, Bryn,” Patrick exclaimed, letting out an exaggerated whistle. “No wonder William’s having a panic attack wanting to get you out of here.” His eyes appraised the dress I was planning to burn as soon as I got out of it.
“Were you trying to give all the Council members heart attacks?” His dimples were drilled deep in his cheeks from the huge smile on his face. “If death were possible for us, I wouldn’t mind going from the coronary croak caused by staring at you.”
William and I rushed down the stairs, and he threw a good punch into Patrick’s arm in passing.
“Oh, come on,” Patrick continued. “Don’t pretend you’re not trying your darndest to keep your eyes off her right now.”
William stopped, and his glare moved from Patrick, to survey me. “Are you planning on wearing that for the rest of the day?” he asked, his face looking undecided.
“I guess.” I shrugged. At least until I could change into the familiar cotton that had never betrayed me as today’s foreign number had.
He looked over at Patrick, and without hesitation, said, “You’re driving. I don’t think I could concentrate on the road with you beside me in that weapon of mass distraction.” He motioned at my dress with his hands.
Patrick let a sharp laugh out behind us. “I knew it! You’re not as focused as you let on.”
William rolled his eyes as he opened the door for me. He shut the door behind me and I buckled up automatically.
I smiled as I remembered William telling me how long it’d taken him to overcome his Mortal habits—like fastening an unnecessary seatbelt. I removed it and glanced in the back. My bag was there, along with two others.
William leapt into the backseat from the passenger side, selecting the seat farthest from me. When I gazed with confusion at the space between us, he smiled—understanding.
“Only temporarily, I promise—just until we’re safely away from the overabundance of watchful eyes here.” As if reminded, he scanned the grounds. “As soon as we’ve got a couple miles behind us, I’ll be right there”—he patted the middle seat between us—“faster than you can form that lovely lower lip of yours into a pout,” he finished, tapping my lips to prove his point.
Patrick jumped into the driver’s seat, and wasting no time, he hit the gas; leaving Townsend Manor and the Council in the dust.
“What did the Council want?” William asked me, but kept his eyes forward and stared unseeingly through the windshield.
“I don’t know . . . nothing, really,” I answered. I hadn’t yet processed what had been the reason for the formal interview, and as I did now, I could come to no solid conclusions. “They asked me a few things about my Mortal life, how I liked Townsend Manor, what I thought of my professor . . .”
William’s face remained burdened, and not being able to bear it any longer, I said, “Don’t worry, I told them you were the best professor I’ve ever kissed.”
That got both William and Patrick’s attention. Patrick looked at me through the rear view mirror with incredulous eyes while William’s eyes were amused. “You were much too generous,” he said, with sparks in his pale-blue eyes—reminding me of something.
“Why are John’s eyes . . .”—I stumbled, not sure how to phrase it—“. . . enlightened?”
William raised his eyebrows in disbelief, and Patrick snickered.
“I know why,” I emphasized quickly, shooting them both back with the same looks they were giving me. “But I’ve been told with severity two times in the past twenty-four hours what the consequences are for this taking place without a Union granted by the Council . . . so I’m assuming he must have had a wife somewhere along the way,” I said, watching William’s face go blank again. “Where is she now?”
“Six feet under,” Patrick mumbled, sounding grave.
William cast a warning look in Patrick’s direction before turning back to me, with the unreadable expression on his face he wore whenever he was about to edit certain information from me.
“If you’re not going to tell me the whole truth, I’d rather hear what Patrick has to say on the matter,” I said, crossing my arms.
“Bryn—”
“No, I’m serious, William,” I argued back, when he tried to calm me with his placating voice and expression to match. “I understand why you understate certain things . . . you don’t want to terrify me—but there’s too many things going on right now I need to know about. No more editing, underemphasizing, or half-truths . . . okay? I need to know what you know.”