A Dance with Darkness
Page 18

 Courtney Allison Moulton

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I rummaged through my things and dumped out all of the currency I had—much of it foreign—onto the table in front of Constance. Every happy emotion in her expression compressed to surprise and trepidation. “This is all I have with me, but I have more at my home. You mustn’t tell anyone that I was here or what you discovered. I don’t want to threaten your life, but this is how dire my situation is now. I’d rather buy your silence than force it.”
“Child,” Constance said, “you already gave me a false name. No, don’t look at me like that. The next time you lie about your name, don’t hesitate.” She touched my chin to lift my gaze to hers as she smiled. “And you don’t have to worry. I’m a nurse. I likely have more secrets than you have. In any case, you’re going to need that money more than I do. You’ve got a baby coming.”
I stared at her until I confirmed the truth in her eyes. “Thank you,” I said, and scooped my money back into my bag, embarrassed by my actions.
“Whatever happened to make you so afraid right now, or whatever will happen once this baby arrives,” the nurse said, “remember that this is a gift. Many of our kind live hundreds of years without bearing a child—many never at all in their long lives.”
My gaze returned to hers and I held her eyes so that she could see the honesty in mine as well. “All life is a blessing and purposeful. If I am to have a child with the man I loved, then I regret nothing.”
“Loved? Not still?”
Her question stung just as Bastian’s hand on my cheek had, and I didn’t answer it. “Thank you for your examination and your confidentiality.”
I slid on my cloak and put the hood over my head to conceal my face and hair. Instead of moving into the Grim and taking flight, I chose to walk. I moved among the humans, clutching my cloak tightly, and my mind drifted away. I was with child. Bastian’s child, a child who would be born both angelic and demonic like his father.
I lost my balance and nearly tripped into a puddle, but a human woman caught my arm and held me up. I lifted my head to look at her dirt-splotched cheeks and tangled hair.
“You all right, miss?” she asked, peering into my face.
“I …” My gaze fell to the tiny child gripping the folds of the woman’s dress. He was thin and filthy and his eyes had grown huge as he shyly peeked at me from around his mother. I could not imagine myself with a child clutching to my own dress. I could not imagine holding a baby in my arms and dedicating every waking moment to his or her needs. I could not imagine being responsible for another life. I was a soldier, a warrior. I could not be a mother.
I staggered away from the woman and her child and stepped into the Grim. She cried out in shock as I vanished before her eyes without a care. I was desperate to escape, to disappear from everything, specifically my troubles. I wandered all day through London hidden and undetected, until finally I headed toward Nathaniel’s house. There was a light on, as there always was when I returned, and I smiled to myself. Despite my terror, I had the small comfort of knowing that I wasn’t alone in this. I had Nathaniel and I would have a child.
I pushed open the door, dragging my muddy skirts across the floor. “Natha—” But I stopped. Nathaniel was not here.
It was Bastian.
11
NEITHER OF US SPOKE FOR WHAT FELT LIKE AN eternity. He stared at me, still and silent and cold as a dark winter’s night with his blue eyes. His power leaked from him like inky fog and crept across the floor toward me. I expected him to be angry, but that wasn’t the impression I got. He was hurt, and the rawness was clear in his gaze.
I was the first to break the painful silence. “How long have you known where I live?”
“I’ve known for over a month,” he said. “I’m saddened that you never trusted me enough to tell me where you lived even after I invited you into my home. It was your home too.”
I swallowed hard, trying not to think of the way things once were between us. “It seems as if I was right not to trust you. You followed me, spied on me, to learn where I live. Now you hunt me down.”
His gaze fell on my mud-covered cloak and skirts, and he ignored my remarks. “You’re filthy. Where have you been?”
“Nowhere,” I replied.
“Nowhere was awfully muddy.”
“This entire island is awfully muddy.”
He made a low, impatient sound and sighed. “My love,” he said gently. “Come with me.”
“No,” I said. “You have to leave.”
“I know you took the book,” he said.
I lifted my chin. “Have you come to kill me for it?”
He exhaled and his brow furrowed as his lip trembled. “I love you. I have not come to kill you.”
My heart skipped a beat and tightened. “Then have you come to ask to have me back, or the book?”
“For you,” he murmured. “I want you back.”
“I don’t believe you,” I said. “You may want me back tonight, but tomorrow you’ll want that book. You’ve come too far to let it go.”
He took my hand and brought it to his lips. “I’ve come too far with you to let you go.”
I slipped my hand from his grip and held it close to my chest. “You hit me, Bastian. You struck me out of anger after you murdered my kin for something you will use to destroy the rest of my kin. Do not insult me by begging for my forgiveness. It is over between us, and that book is long gone. If you want it, then you can dig out its ashes in the hearth.”