“There is a very, very old ritual. Most don’t know about it anymore. It is a chance, because if it doesn’t work you’ll be gone anyway. You won’t have any conscious memory of your past if it does work.” She detailed what she knew, and he turned from her. “But it has to be a willing sacrifice on the part of all three of you, Rafael. If you don’t perform the ritual correctly, it won’t work.”
“I don’t know if I could do that. I don’t know if she’d want to do that.”
“There is always the option of leaving, dear boy. At least with the ritual, you could live on, with them, the two that you love, that love you.”
He turned to her. “What about them?”
“Matthias is heartbroken. I don’t know how he hides the worst of it from Anastazia. I believe he would be willing to do anything short of sacrificing a life to give you this. I think you should tell him about her, that she is—was—Cassandra. Whether you tell him the rest is up to you. She is so grief stricken, so pained by what she did, she holds herself responsible for your death.”
He shook his head. “It wasn’t her fault. Please tell her that.”
“We’ve tried.” She paused. “They could get on with their lives if you do this.”
“Please don’t say anything to her about the ritual. When the time is right, I’ll talk to her. To them.”
She nodded. “I won’t. I must tell her you’re in here and she has to make contact with you. Be gentle with her, Rafael. She is still very fragile.”
An hour later, Taz opened her eyes when she felt Dame Agnew leave her mind. The older woman looked at her. “My dear, I’m so very sorry for what happened,” she whispered.
She looked down. “It doesn’t change anything. I still lost control.”
“I can’t say I blame you. Vampire soup? I must admit, that was inspired. Do you understand the implications of what happened the night Rafael died?”
“What do you mean?”
Dame Agnew reached across the table for Taz’s hands. “I’ve heard about this one other time, centuries ago, when two very powerful vampires were in battle and one was mortally wounded.” She dropped the bombshell. “The dying one transferred his conscious to the other.”
“What?”
“You bear Rafael not just in your heart, but in your mind. His soul lives on, within you. What you felt during your dreams the night he died was him. He knew he was dying, and he threw himself at you because he knew you were strong enough to take him.”
“What?” Taz stood so fast the chair tipped over. “No!”
“The lost time, the ride from his condo in the car? That was Rafael. He was able to come to the surface for a while because you’d almost put yourself into a form of hypnosis between the drive and his music. Karaoke. Something about an MP3 player and a car radio? When you escaped from Bartholomew’s house, that was him helping you. The flowers. There were other times. When you were shot at Yellowstone, he appeared to you, trying to keep you from choosing death. He’s come to you in your dreams, and he is the voice you’ve been hearing.”
“No!” Taz gripped her head and circled the room. “I can’t—he can’t be!” She worked the ring on her finger and then realized what she was doing. “No! I don’t believe it!”
“Then search my thoughts. You are far more powerful than I ever was, even in my prime. You can tell if I’m lying or not.”
She launched her mind at Dame Agnew, harder than she meant, and the older woman rocked back in her chair. “I’m sorry,” Taz apologized, pulling back, but she saw the truth.
It took Dame Agnew’s full force of will to conceal the secret she promised Rafael she would tend.
“All the times you heard his voice whisper to you, the dreams, those were all him,” Dame Agnew said.
Taz could barely speak. “Does he—does he know he’s in there?”
Dame Agnew nodded. “He’s fully aware of what happened. Had anyone else seen you when he was in control, they might have thought you were sleepwalking. He can think and feel and to a certain extent, he can send his mind outside of you. That’s how he was able to help you evade the guards at Torvald’s house.”
Taz’s voice shook. “Does he hate me? Does he blame me for what happened?”
Dame Agnew smiled, shaking her head. “No. He doesn’t blame you at all, dear.”
That did it. Taz collapsed where she stood, sobbing, grieving and relieved at the same time. No one else blamed her for his death.
Apparently Rafe didn’t, either.
Dame Agnew knelt beside her, holding Taz as she poured out her anguish. It wasn’t like pulling at an old scab because the wound was still fresh and raw. It was like opening a barely constrained floodgate of grief and anger and guilt, a tidal wave of emotion that threatened to wash her out to sea.
After she composed herself, Taz asked, “What do I do for him?”
Dame Agnew shook her head. “Unless you want him gone, there’s nothing you can do. Not at this moment. One day there will be a time, if you wish to help him. He’ll tell you what he needs.”
“Then he’d be gone for good?”
She nodded. “Then he would be gone for good.”
“Does he want to be here?”
“He’d prefer not to be dead, but other than that, he doesn’t have an opinion one way or the other. He is very worried for you.”
“Please don’t say anything to Matthias.”
“You have my word.”
“Can I talk to Rafe?”
Dame Agnew brushed Taz’s hair out of her face. “Yes, child. However, you must figure that out on your own. No one can do that for you. I think once you’re ready to face him you’ll work out the logistics.” She stood and held her hand out to Taz. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. Matthias will think I’ve been scolding you.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Gerard scowled, looking at his phone before answering. “Yes?”
The voice on the other end sounded timid, hesitant. “We’ve had a complication.”
He growled. “What complication?”
The caller cleared his throat. “Timon has been incarcerated.”
“WHAT?”
The caller talked fast, out of fear. “Apparently his role was discovered by Hawthorne. He is now in custody under the Tribunal’s control.”
Gerard almost threw his phone. “Where are you?”
“I’m on my way to Gatwick right now, booked on a flight to Berlin leaving in two hours. I can’t stay here. Timon didn’t have my name, but depending on what interrogation methods they use, they might be able to discover what I look like.”
“Do we have anyone else we can use?”
“No, sir. Not at this time.”
“I. Am not. Happy.”
“I understand that, but I am not the one who made the initial plans.”
“You will contact me immediately upon reaching Berlin, understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
Gerard hung up and screamed for his assistant. The man instantly appeared in the office doorway. “There is a flight from Gatwick to Berlin in two hours, and that operative is on it. I want his head on my desk in seventy-two hours, do I make myself clear?”
The assistant blanched but nodded and left to make the arrangements.
Only then did Gerard throw the cell phone against the wall. It shattered, leaving a dent where it impacted. He’d have to move up his alternate plans.
How could it be so difficult to get their hands on a single goddamn woman? Fucking cheap help.
He sat behind his desk and made a call on his secure phone. It took a moment for it to connect. On the other end, a man answered in Portuguese.