Part 47 (1/2)

”No. I have not seen her,” Tatiana sighed.

Alice's spirit was still earthbound. Tatiana could feel it. But the presence had left them as they entered English soil. She wondered if Alice did not like coming home, as she herself did not like coming home.

Tatiana thought she would be happy to be back in England. But this was no longer the England of her youth. She saw it for what it was--for its flaws. No longer did she feel pride when thinking of her birthplace. It was like remembering a room from childhood, a room that was so big and so awed innocent eyes. To visit that same place years later, with the critical contemplations of an adult, the room could never compare to the image remaining from your childhood thoughts. After that moment, a bitter feeling would erupt from the disillusionment of childish dreams, the disappointment of adult memory. That is how Tatiana saw England.

”This place is not all flawed,bella mia ,” Marcello said quietly. ”You must learn to look for the beauty amongst the thorns.”

”It is in the winterand there is no beauty within the dormant grove of this city,” she whispered. She stopped in front of a house. The small structure wasn't special. It had an area set aside for a garden. White blanketed the ground, trampled by the running of little feet. Children had run circles and patterns in the snow earlier in the day. Now, their footprints glistened in a field that sparkled like blue diamonds in the moonlight.

Tatiana followed the trails with her eyes and felt sadness. She could almost hear the children's laughter in her head. This was something she would never have. Marcello stood, watching her in silence. Her gloved hand reached forward and brushed snow from a fence post.

”This is not the England of my girlhood. It pains me to see it, for I will never belong here,” Tatiana said. ”Never again.”

Marcello didn't answer. He didn't have to.

”Let us finish our business.” Tatiana sighed. ”I care not where we go from here, only that we do go.”

”We must find you a witch.” Marcello lifted his hand to her shoulder and squeezed. ”You must train.”

”Ah, yes. Tell me, why should I train to save all of this? Why save a world filled with so much?” Tatiana asked. ”Why save a world I will never belong in again?”

”You don't need me to answer that.”

Tatiana patted the hand on her shoulder. Turning to him, she gave a slight smile. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she lifted to place a small kiss against his cool lips. The snowflakes landed on her eyelashes and she blinked rapidly to see. ”Pay me no mind, Marcello. I am in a mood this night.”

He nodded, hugged her to his chest, and let her go. With a sigh, he offered his arm to her. She took it and they again walked, speeding faster as they moved.

”I understand,” Marcello said. ”We shared the same dream. You will go for him tonight.”

”Yes,” she whispered. ”Tonight.”

Three and a half years he waited for this night--the night he would avenge his sister's death. Thomas hugged his long, wool coat tight around his body, ignoring the holes in his elbows that couldn't protect him from the cold. His hunched shoulders lifted and fell as he sighed with weariness. He was tired, so tired. The shadowing of a beard marred his once boyish face. He knew he looked old for his age. h.e.l.l, he felt old for his age. His red brimmed eyes stared forward. Though his body reeked of liquor, his feet walked steady and sure.

Three and a half years. Three and a half years.

The words repeated themselves over and over again in his head. It was too long of a time to wait for vengeance. It was too long a time to image what Henry Sinclair had done to sweet, innocent Alice. At night he could still hear her laughter in his head. She'd been such a sweet girl, so happy no matter what life had dealt her. Such a good soul didn't deserve a harsh death.

He'd lost every woman he'd ever loved--Alice to a murder, his mother to grief after he'd told her the truth of Alice's death, and Tatiana to a monster. After he avenged his sister and his mother, he'd go for Tatiana. He would learn the truth of her involvement. He was torn with what he would do when he saw her. Alice had been her friend and yet she'd helped to hide the body? Every one of the dark creature's words filtered in his head.

'You can't keep her from me,'the creature had said to Tatiana's father.'I only let you have her back because I promised to let her say goodbye to you in return for her pledge to be my eternal slave. She traded her soul for the protection of your son. It was your boy who murdered the servant and, like a coward....'

”And like a coward, he'll die,” Thomas whispered, letting the rage kindle anew as his pace quickened. He knew the way well, had watched Henry Sinclair for months, waiting for the time he'd be alone.

'No,'Tatiana had answered the demon. He could still hear the sweet confusion in her voice. She was to have been his wife that night. He'd been so happy. She was all he'd ever dreamt about. But then, the demon had come for her. 'I never would've given myself to you. You lie. Henry would never murder Alice. You lie! You lie!'

”She didn't know,” Thomas said. ”It is not possible for her to have known. She loved Alice--loved her dearly. She wouldn't have allowed....” Thomas frowned, shaking his head in doubt. ”No, no, she couldn't have known, could she? But why bind herself to the demon? Why agree to go with him? She was tricked. She must have been tricked. She would never have helped Henry hide Alice, never, never, never....”

Thomas rounded a corner and continued to trudge up a small hill. His feet slipped, causing him to fall forward on the hard pavement of the sidewalk. His ankle twisted and he landed on a knee with a jolt of pain. He muttered in anger, pus.h.i.+ng back up. He kept going, trying to keep the same pace though he now unconsciously limped. The uneven clop of his boots was the only sound in the stillness of the city night.

”No, Tatiana loved her,” Thomas whispered, glad that no one was around to witness him talking to himself. Nevertheless, the sound of his whispered words eased him in his task and he felt a small sense of comfort in his reasoning. ”I will find her. She is not dead. I will find her. I will find her and make her my wife.”