“He’s patient. He likes that it’s something that can’t be done at regular vampire speed. After he gave it to me, we went to a bookshop, and he bought me a new book, Dodona’s Grove.” Meg loved reading. Amaia read only to increase her knowledge and prepare for the intellectual conversation she engaged in while working. Meg, though, had a love affair with the written word. She often told Amaia about whatever she was reading, growing as animated as any actor on the stage.
“Good. I bet you’re anxious to get to it.” Amaia’s blood felt as if it would break through her skin from the pull of the energy. Her body wanted to be somewhere else. Amaia couldn’t discern if her need arose from the energy itself or from her own curiosity.
“I can wait until we’ve had some fun.” Meg stood and dragged Amaia down the aisle toward Liam.
“That’s all right. I really don’t mind. Lawrence is going to want a full run down of what happened tonight.” She didn’t enjoy lying to Meg, but the thought of the conversation that would follow the truth was even less enjoyable.
Meg stopped walking and looked at Amaia. “Well, if you’re sure.”
“I am.” Amaia smiled and nodded at her.
“All right. But I’ll see you later.” Meg embraced her.
“I’m counting on it. I can’t wait to hear all about this new book.” Amaia gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and then went back to her townhouse to change into a simple dress. She didn’t want to explain a ruined gown to Lawrence after running through the night. Her cloak only protected her dress from curious eyes, not from the dirt of the countryside. Before she slipped out the door, she went to her vanity and retrieved the ring Michael had given her. The pearl and rubies felt at home on her finger.
She headed north. That seemed to be the direction that strengthened the connection. Each inch brought her closer to the source. She didn’t know what she would find when she reached her destination, only that she needed to face it. It was unlikely that this energy—that Michael—could threaten her, especially if he was simply a reincarnated human as Lawrence suggested. She was prepared to take her chances. The fear she had felt upon seeing Michael over two years ago drowned in her curiosity. Why would the energy return? Why had it stopped to begin with? She didn’t understand how Michael had ever come back. Too many questions lacked answers, and she worried that when she got where she was headed, she would only find more questions.
The moon hovered fully over the horizon when she stopped outside a manor house in Calais. The energy was precise and led her to the northeastern window on the upper floor. An external staircase led to the second floor, and from there it was easy to lift herself onto the roof. The rough, wooden shingles scratched against her hands as she lowered her upper body over the edge until she could peer in the window. A piercing cry rent the air. A baby. Michael had a baby. It was a strange thought.
Inside, a nursemaid rushed to the cradle. Amaia both hoped and feared to catch a glimpse of Michael. It was unlikely that he would be bothered to rise in the night to tend a crying child. The maid lifted the baby and rocked the infant in a nearby chair. All Amaia could see was a wide, wailing mouth in the middle of a scrunched face.
The maid softly sang a lullaby, the gentle undulations of her voice quieting the child. “There, there, sweet Jean. Go to sleep.”
It was a baby boy. Without the distraction of his cries, Amaia focused back on Michael’s energy. It was so close, but he was nowhere in sight. The nursemaid appeared to be alone with the child. From the red splotchy skin and white bumps on his face, Amaia suspected he was a newborn. His mother most likely lay resting from her labor. He’d probably been born within the last day. Right about the time Amaia first felt the energy.
Concentrating on the baby again, Amaia realized she had it all wrong. She didn’t feel Michael’s energy because of his excitement over becoming a father. The energy came from the baby. That baby was Michael.
Amaia sat on the roof. Of course. It made sense. There was no way the man she’d seen in the tavern outside of Vienna was the same man who owned this manor. Amaia took another glimpse at the child and left, finding it too strange to see a baby she knew was Michael.
She couldn’t go home yet, not before she gathered her thoughts. At the beach, she removed her shoes and walked in the wet sand. The cold water and rough sand calmed her and allowed her to think. Across the Channel, she could make out the white cliffs of Dover, where Michael had been born into the life she had shared with him. The entire situation was crazy. The man Amaia had seen in the tavern had been Michael, just as surely as this baby was Michael.