J. Ward - Lover Avenged

Neat. Clean. iAm’s voice came over her earpiece. “Buyers just walked in.”

“Perfect. Let’s do this.”

She would get through both of the deals, and then she had a private job of her own to do. Now, that was something to look forward to. By the end of the night, she was going to get exactly the kind of release she needed.

Across town, in a quiet cul-de-sac in a safe neighborhood, Ehlena was parked in front of a modest colonial, going nowhere fast.

The key wouldn’t go into the ambulance’s ignition.

Having gotten what should have been the hardest part of the trip over with, having delivered Stephan safely into the arms of his blooded relations, it was a surprise that getting the goddamn key in the frickin’ ignition was more difficult.

“Come on…” Ehlena focused on steadying her hand. And ended up watching really closely as the slip of metal skipped around the hole it belonged in.

She sat back in the seat with a curse, knowing that she was adding to the misery in the house, that the ambulance parked right outside was just another loud, screaming declaration of the tragedy.

As if the family’s beloved son’s body weren’t enough of one.

She turned her head and stared at the colonial’s windows. Shadows moved around on the other side of gauze curtains.

After she’d backed into the driveway, Alix had gone inside and she’d waited in the cold night. A moment later, the garage door had trundled up, and Alix had come forward with an older male who looked a lot like Stephan. She had bowed and shaken his hand, then opened the ambulance’s rear bay. The male had had to clamp a hand over his mouth as she and Alix wheeled the gurney out.

“My son…” he had moaned.

She would never forget the sound of that voice. Hollow. Hopeless. Heartbroken.

Stephan’s father and Alix had carried him home, and just as at the morgue, moments later there had been a wail. This time, though, it had been a female’s higher-pitched mourning call. Stephan’s mother.

Alix had returned as Ehlena had pushed the gurney into the ambulance’s belly, and he had been blinking fast, like if he was facing a stiff headwind. After paying her respects and saying good-bye to him, she’d gotten behind the wheel and…not been able to start the damn vehicle.

On the other side of the gauze curtains, she saw two shapes cleave together. And then it was three. And then more came.

For no evident reason, she thought of the windows in the house she rented for her and her father, all of them covered with aluminum foil, sealing out the world.

Who would stand over her wrapped body when her life ended? Her father knew who she was most of the time, but he wasn’t connected to her more than rarely. The staff at the clinic were very kind, but that was work, not personal. Lusie was paid to come when she did.

Who would take care of her father?

She’d always assumed he would go first, but then, no doubt Stephan’s family had thought along the same lines.

Ehlena looked away from the mourners and stared out the ambulance’s front windshield.

Life was too short, no matter how long you lived. When it was their turn, she didn’t think anybody was ready to leave their friends and their family and the things that made them happy, be they five hundred years old, like her father, or fifty years, like Stephan.

Time was an endless source of days and nights only for the galaxy at large.

It made her wonder: What the hell was she doing with the time she had? Her job gave her a purpose, sure, and she took care of her father, which was what one did for family. But where was she going? Nowhere. And not just because she was sitting in this ambulance with hands that shook so badly she couldn’t work a key.

The thing was, it wasn’t that she wanted to change everything. She just wanted something for herself, something that made her know she was alive.

Rehvenge’s deep amethyst eyes came at her from out of nowhere, and like a camera pulling back, she saw his carved face and his mohawk and his fine clothes and his cane.

This time, when she reached forward with the key, the thing went in steadily, and the diesel engine came awake on a growl. As the heater blasted cold air at her, she turned down the fan, then put the gearshift in drive and left the house and the cul-de-sac and the neighborhood.

Which no longer seemed quiet to her.

Behind the wheel, she was driving and out of it at the same time, caught up in the image of a male she couldn’t have, but at the moment needed like crazy.

Her feelings were wrong on so many levels. For God’s sake, they were a betrayal of Stephan, even though she didn’t really know him. It just seemed disrespectful to be wanting another male while his body was being mourned by his blood.

Except she would have wanted Rehvenge anyway.

“Damn it.”

The clinic was all the way across the river, and she was glad, because she couldn’t face work right away. She was too raw and sad and angry at herself.

What she needed was…

Starbucks. Oh, yeah, that was exactly what she needed.

About five miles away, in a square that was home to a Hannaford supermarket, a flower shop, a LensCrafters boutique, and a Blockbuster store, she found a Starbucks that was open until two a.m. She pulled the ambulance around to the side and got out.

When she’d left the clinic with Alix and Stephan, she hadn’t thought to bring her coat, so she huddled into her purse and hotfooted it over the sidewalk and through the door. Inside, the place was as most of them were: red wooden trim, dark gray tile floor, with a lot of windows, stuffed chairs, and little tables. Over at the counter there were mugs for sale, a glass display of lemon squares and brownies and scones, and two humans in their early twenties manning the coffee machines. The smell in the air was hazelnut and coffee and chocolate, and the aroma wiped the lingering herbal bouquet of the death wraps from her nose.

“C’I help you?” the taller guy asked.

“Vente latte, foam, no whip. Double cup, double sleeve.”

The human male smiled at her and lingered. He had a dark brush-cut beard and a nose ring, his shirt splashed with graphics that spelled out TOMATO EATER in drops of what could have been blood or, given the band’s name, ketchup. “You like anything else? The cinnamon scones totally rock.”

“No, thanks.”

His eyes stayed on her as he worked her order, and to keep from having to deal with the attention, she went into her purse and checked her phone in case Lusie-

MISSED CALL. View now?

She hit yes, praying it wasn’t something about her father-

Rehvenge’s number came up, although not his name, because she hadn’t put him in her phone. She stared at the digits.

God, it was like he’d read her mind.

“Your latte? Hello?”

“Sorry.” She put her phone back, took what the guy held out to her, and thanked him.

“I double-cupped just like you wanted. The sleeve, too.”

“Thanks.”

“Hey, you work at one of the hospitals around here?” he said, eyeing her uniform.

“Private clinic. Thanks again.”

She left quickly and didn’t waste time getting into the ambulance. Back behind the wheel, she hit the locks on the doors, started the engine, and turned the heater on immediately, because the air coming out was still warm.

The latte was really good. Superhot. Tasted perfect.

She got her phone again and went into the received-calls log and fired up Rehvenge’s number.

She took a deep breath and a long pull on the latte.

And hit send.

Destiny had a 518 area code. Who knew.

Lash parked the Mercedes 550 under one of Caldwell’s bridges, the black sedan indistinguishable from the shadows thrown by the mammoth concrete supports. The digital clock on the dash told him that showtime was getting close.