Anna Strong - Retribution Part 32

She is Warren Williams' mortal wife.

For the remaining hour of the service, she doesn't take her eyes off me. As it concludes, the color guard gives its twenty-one-gun salute and the mourners file past the coffin to pay last respects.

Brooke and her sister are among the last to leave the grave site.

Mrs. Williams stands off to the side. I do, too. The sisters glance over at us but don 't approach. When they've made their way to a waiting car, she turns to me.

"I know what you did."

Mrs. Williams is an attractive fortysomething, sophisticated, perfectly coiffed, attired in the proper ensemble for the funeral of a friend.

Her tailored suit is charcoal gray, probably Versace, her shoes chic but sensibly low-heeled to handle the gra.s.s, her shoulder bag dark- grained leather. She wears a simple band of diamonds on her left ring finger, diamond studs in her ears.

What doesn't fit the polished exterior is her expression.

Anger burns through her eyes. It's a dark shadow on her face, a clenched jaw. She's human, but she's projecting enough animal hatred to make me take a defensive step back.

She closes the distance. "Warren is at home. He almost didn't make it. I had to pull that bar out of his chest. He might have died in that warehouse, and you left him there. You chose the life of a witch over one of your own."

There's no point in reminding her that her husband is a vampire and wouldn't have died. Or in asking her if she knew why he'd gone to the warehouse in the first place.

She's beyond the point of reason. She looks toward the car, turning her face away from me. "No parent should ever suffer the loss of a child," she says. Her voice is sad, haunted.

I don't understand. Is she talking about Brooke? Did Brooke lose a child? Certainly, it couldn 't have been Ortiz'. Vampires can't reproduce.

When she faces me, I read the truth in her eyes. She's talking about Williams and Ortiz. Williams sired Ortiz. I should have realized it sooner, recognized the bond between them. Ortiz was a son to Williams, the only kind he could ever have.

The moment of melancholy is gone in the instant it takes Mrs. Williams to wipe a tear from her cheek. Rage once again hardens her features.

"I told Brooke that he was so broken up he had to get away, be by himself. But Warren is strong. He'll get better. And when he does, he'll come after you. It isn't over, Anna."

She starts to walk away, stops, turns. "It didn't have to be this way. Warren had such high hopes for you. You were supposed to be the one to make the peace. Instead, you wage war."

She shakes her head, looking older somehow, sadder, as if the weight of her words is a burden she can't put down. "Warren said you have only a few months left to accept what must be. Instead, you continue this useless fight. And you know who will suffer?"

She lets her gaze travel to the car, to the girls staring out at us. "They will be the ones who pay the price. The innocents. Well, Anna, you want a war? You've got one. And it's a war no one will win. I hope you're satisfied."

EPILOGUE.

A WEEK HAS Pa.s.sED SINCE ORTIZ' FUNERAL. A week filled with wonderfully ordinary things that didn't involve witches or spells or veiled threats.

Lance came home and we had a few days to enjoy each other before he was off to his next modeling a.s.signment. We took advantage of every moment. He listened to what happened, consoled and calmed me. I can't wait for him to come home again. I'm coming to realize how much I miss Lance when he's gone, not just the s.e.x.

Two days later, David returned from his vacation and we went right back to work. Thankfully, a declining economy doesn't translate into a decline in the number of fugitives who need apprehending.

Sophie called once to let me know the girls were adjusting well to their new home. Her voice was strained and formal. It was nice to hear her voice, good to know the girls were doing well, but I doubt she'll call again. I killed her sister.

I talked to Trish on her birthday and, as luck would have it, caught her during the fireworks display my folks had arranged as a special treat. For a few minutes, I could pretend to be there with them oohing and aahing over exploding sky rockets and Roman candles.

Now that I have use of a jet, who knows? I may fly over to celebrate my mom's birthday in July.

But as hard as I try to pretend everything is back to normal, I know it's not.

Mrs. Williams' words haunt me.

She accuses me of waging war.

Her husband drew the battle lines. Not me. All I've ever asked is to live on my own terms.

In a few months, I will have been vampire for one year. Is that what she meant about having only a short time to accept what must be?

That may be the biggest irony. Just when I decide to open up to the possibility that there might be something to this destiny thing, I have no one to help me discover what it might be.

Well, there's nothing I can do about that. I have my family, David, Daniel Frey and Lance. It's enough for now. If somewhere down the line a door opens and some mysterious destiny presents itself, I may hesitate. But in my head, in my bones, I know I 'll walk through that door.

I'll have to see what's on the other side.