Anne Brontë Nightwalker

Chapter 26

Savannah reaches out, placing her small hand over his fist. Her fingernails are painted in blue glitter. Under the truck's fluorescent lights, her hair flares red as a lit flame. That such beauty issued from this man astonishes me.

"Daddy," she says. "Don't be mad, Daddy. I'm sorry to cause trouble. It's not her fault, it's me." His eyes shift from mine to hers and I see them go soft. Deep. His fist loosens, opens and gently he squeezes her hand.

"Ain't your fault, pumpkin. Not one damn thing in this world your fault."

Suddenly, I remember my sister Maria. When she died, she was almost Savannah's age and had that same look of sacred innocence. Eyes luminous with kindness, always more worried about everyone else than herself, even on her deathbed. Maria was kissed by an angel, Charlotte said, infused with a loftier nature than the rest of us.

How God loves the good.

Together, Branwell and I watched Maria die. And a little while later, we bore witness to Elizabeth's death as well. Papa had sent his children away to school, keeping only Bran and me behind. At six, I was considered too young, and at nine, Bran too wayward to be allowed outside Papa's reach. But the rest of us he sent to Cowan Bridge, believing there is no greater legacy a parent can leave a child, even a girl, than an education.

When Maria was finally released from school, wasted with whooping cough, it was too late to save her. How shocked Papa looked when he carried her into the house. How furious. His rage could be a horrible thing. And when soon Elizabeth followed Maria home and then to heaven, he yanked Charlotte and Emily out of school faster than an angel can fall.

Branwell never seemed to recover. Maria haunted him his whole life. And Papa. Poor Papa. Only four years before he'd lost his beloved wife and now his two little girls were gone, back-to-back. It wasn't uncommon then and his faith endured, but his heart was shattered.

We all knew Maria was his favorite. She was our favorite too.

Looking down, I find the empty blood tubes crushed to shards in my palm. Before anyone can see, I toss them in the trash then lean back against the seat and stare out the small back window. Every muscle in my body is clenched. I force myself to sit and breathe. And when the tears threaten I breathe them in and hold them, while I gaze unmoving at the empty road unfurling behind me into the cold, dark night.

***

At the hospital, I plan to stay in the truck while Dana makes the patient transfer. I have no desire to see Dr. Webb again. Soon I will be gone. But as Dana begins to pull out the stretcher, Savannah grasps fast to my hand, startling me.

Her eyes are wide. "Aren't you coming?"

"Dana will take care of you." I force a smile.

She gives Dana a doubtful look. "But you're my doctor. I want you to come."

"I'm not a doctor. Just a paramedic. So is Dana. You'll be okay." Mr. Granger glares at me and shakes his head in disgust. Savannah holds tightly to my hand with a fierce strength I didn't expect. Her flesh is cool with fear.

"Is this your first time to the hospital?" I ask.

She gives me a worried nod.

With a sigh, I climb out of the truck. Tonight the ER is busy and I keep my head down as we roll the stretcher to an available room while Dana gives the patient report. I pray we don't see Dr. Webb. At least he can't accuse me of breaking protocol tonight. I give a quick glance around but he's nowhere in sight and I'm hoping we'll be on the road before he ever knows we were here.

As we transfer Savannah to the hospital bed, Dana slips away. Damn! No doubt, she's looking for Webb to ply him with her charms. I raise her on the radio. "We're leaving, Dana." As usual, she ignores me.

Savannah casts a worried look my way. "Do you have to go?"

"Yes, darling. Be brave. You have nothing to fear." Now is my chance to talk to her. Mr. Granger is filling out paperwork and we're finally alone. How do I find the words? What was it Aunt Elizabeth said to me when my time came?

"Savannah, I have something special to tell you." She sits up straight in anticipation. "In a few days, your moontime will come. Do you know what that means?"

She shakes her head.

"When a girl becomes a woman, her body syncs with the moon and her blood comes every month. This is your moontime. A time of heightened feeling and sensitivity. It grants you self-awareness and reminds you every month that you have the gift of life." Her little brow crinkles and I long to stroke it smooth with my fingers. "Blood is a blessing. Now you can create life as God does. You must be careful, but don't be scared."

She looks at me in awe, confusion drifting across her face. "I can create life?"

Why hasn't Mrs. Granger told her this? That's her job, not mine. "Yes, but only if you have sex."

Her shoulders slump in relief and it occurs to me I might have convinced her of the Immaculate Conception. "Do you understand what sex is?" I ask.

She stares at me. "I have five brothers and sisters, three dogs, two cats and seven kittens. I may be a hillbilly, but I ain't blind."

I laugh out loud. "Of course you're not." How long has it been since I laughed? I can't even remember. I brush a strand of hair behind her ear. If I had a daughter like this, I'd never want another single thing. She pats my hand as if she's comforting me. "Be brave and take care of your daddy," I say.

"I will. I always do."

I turn to go and pull up short to stop from careening into Dr. Webb. How long has he been standing here? How did I not hear him?

I nod coldly. He acknowledges me with a look before moving to Savannah. I don't want him anywhere near her, but his demeanor suddenly shifts to harmless helper and she smiles at him sweetly.

"Hello . . ." he studies my neatly written report ". . . Savannah. How are you feeling?"

"I'm better now."

"Glad to hear it." There's a tenderness in his voice I wouldn't have suspected. His edge drops away, revealing a nice, normal-looking guy. He might as well be the neighborhood mailman or the guy next door, so innocuous he looks when he stops waving his authority around like a bright, shiny badge.

Savannah relaxes a notch, which helps me relax, and as I start to slip away, she grasps my hand again. She presses it and smiles, and it's like a luminous moon has slid free from a cloud on a black night.

For a moment there is only her and me and Dr. Webb in a close circle around her bed and I can't help thinking what a beautiful family we all would make.

***

When Dana and I pull into the station Lucien is there, looking frightened and tired. Less than ten hours ago he was telling me about Claire, how she looked like a princess. Now she's dead and death has become intimate, personal. No longer is it a stranger lying in the truck. Now it's a girl he dreamed about touching, kissing. Perhaps even loving.

Murder is nothing new to me, and I try not to dwell on it. Claire is not my problem. There is nothing I can do for the girls of these cold, blue mountains. I am barely surviving myself.

It's time to make plans for my own survival. I must regain my strength. With an Alpha so near and travel imminent, my weakness is no longer tenable.

Tomorrow I will hunt.

Tomorrow I will kill.

At home, I drop my clothes and collapse into bed, locking myself in like a prisoner. Anyone could come upon me and where could I run? Nowhere. And yet I fall asleep immediately. The sun rises and bathes the world in light, while I slumber in a blacked out room, dreaming of a beautiful Alpha. I feel his fingers hard against my flesh. He's holding me by the back of the neck, pushing my face into the throat of a sweet young child, ordering me to make my first kill.