“Not much about you that I’ve forgotten,” she said. “My life experiences were narrow. And painful. I kept hold of the good memories.”
The other man, Hunter, stepped forward. “You were tortured?”
She looked at him and asked, “Why are you here?”
“Instinct,” he said, in the same flat tone, crossing his arms over his chest, as if unwilling to give any information. But then, she was no different. She took a long slow deep breath, willing the pain to subside. Her hand inched around her body to the bullet hole. “Were you able to get the bullet out?”
“Hunter did,” Stefan said. “I was busy stopping the bleeding.”
“I lost a lot of blood,” she noted. “Thank you for not turning me away.”
Hunter said, “Yet all you asked about was somebody else who was with you.”
“That’s all right,” she said. “I heard from him. He’s fine.”
At that, all three of them stiffened, but she didn’t offer anything else. Her gaze went from one to the other, like they were on one side of this room, she on the other. Not the welcome she had expected.
Hunter stepped forward. “Why are you here?”
She gave a bitter laugh. “I was dying. I needed help.”
“Do you need other help?” Stefan asked quietly.
“Yes. But I don’t want to hurt you or to put you in danger.” That’s the last thing she wanted. If she could heal, revitalize her energy, then that was enough.
“And why would you think that would happen?” Hunter asked.
She rolled her eyes to the side. “I don’t like you.”
“Doesn’t matter if you like me or not,” he said, his tone hard. “I’m here for an unknown reason, and I suspect it’s you,” he murmured. “But what I don’t know is why.”
“None of us know the whys anymore,” she said, as she studied him. He was a couple inches over six feet, maybe more, and filled out, yet he had a panther-like grace as he moved. “You’re a hunter,” she whispered, “but why are you here?”
“I wasn’t hunting,” he said, “but now that I’m here …” And he let his voice hang.
She turned to look at Stefan. “I’ll leave now,” she said and slowly sat up, pushing the blankets to the side.
“Whoa,” Stefan said, “you can’t go anywhere.”
“Yes,” she said, “I have to.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re coming,” she whispered. “Thank you for healing me.” She didn’t even look at her wound to confirm. She didn’t have any doubt that Stefan had done what he said he’d do. She might not be 100 percent, but she’d take it. “I’m much better now.”
“Yes, you’re better,” Stefan said quietly, “but you’re not good enough.”
She stopped, looked at him, and said, “It has to be.”
“You weren’t this stubborn before.”
“Times have changed,” she said quietly. “Things got a whole lot worse.”
He winced at that, as he stared out over her head. “My God, it would have, yes,” he said. “I swear you weren’t there when I checked.”
“I was there,” she said, “being held somewhere else.”
“I’m so sorry.”
She nodded slowly. “I forgave you a long time ago.”
He seemed relieved but then doubt took over. “What can I do to help?”
“You’ve done it,” she said. “I’ll survive now that you’ve closed the wound.”
“Survival? Is that enough?” Hunter asked in a harsh tone.
She glanced at him and said, “Sometimes it’s all we have.” He seemed frustrated by her answer, frustrated by everything going on around him. She understood, but clearly he hadn’t come to the point in time where he accepted that some things in life one couldn’t change. She had come to that conclusion a long time ago.
“I want to help,” Stefan said.
She shook her head ever-so-slowly. “Nothing you can do.”
“That’s not true,” he said. “There has to be something. Otherwise why did you come? Besides to heal, tell us who shot you. Let us help.”
“Why?” she asked, not comfortable talking with the others here. “You could do nothing all those years ago. Why would that have changed?” It’s not the answer Stefan wanted, but the only answer she could give him. She slowly stood, happy that at least her body didn’t scream in agony, though she worried at the weakness, the lassitude that filled her. She staggered, taking one step and then another.
Stefan immediately stepped in front of her and said, “Beth, you’re not healthy enough to leave.”
Her gaze dark, so deep, she whispered to him, “And yet I’m too healthy to stay.” And, with that, she took another step forward. Stefan placed a hand on her shoulder. She immediately felt energy draining from her. She gazed at him, her eyes wide. “Why?” she whispered, her energy quickly withdrawn from her.
“You aren’t strong enough,” Stefan said.
“I have to.”
She collapsed, only to be gently positioned right back in bed where she had been. As Stefan tucked her under the covers, she stared up at him, some of the paralysis easing that he had instilled.
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Stefan said. “For tonight, just get some rest.”
She closed her eyes. “You’ll be sorry.”
“Maybe not,” he said. “We too have skills.”
She nodded. “They’ve been looking for you since you left. I didn’t want to lead them here,” she said, “but I may already have.”
And then the darkness claimed her once again.
*
Hunter stormed around the living room. “Jesus Christ, Stefan! What the hell is going on here?”
Stefan sat calmly in his chair, a cup of tea in his hand, as he studied the massive windows. “Events from my childhood,” he said. “I managed to escape before she did. I tried to find her, but no sign of her was anywhere. I was tormented for a long time because I couldn’t get her out, but I didn’t dare go back either. It never occurred to me that she would have taken the punishment for my escape. Then they all would have, I suppose.”
“Why would she have?” Hunter asked.
“Standard torture techniques there,” Celina said to Hunter, then gently turned to Stefan. “And you did what you had to do.”
“Of course I did,” he said, “but it cost somebody else I cared about a great deal. Did you see the condition she’s in?”
“She’s lost.” Hunter shoved his hands into his pockets, as he crossed the room once again. “She’s a lost soul, but that doesn’t mean that she’s your responsibility.”
“No,” Stefan said sadly. “I wish she were. Then I would force her to stay where she is, until she could heal. As it is, she has a certain amount of …” He stopped, shrugged, and said, “I don’t want to say bitterness, but maybe bitterness is the correct word.”