Broken (The Captive #5.5)(81)

Merle shifted in his seat and began to fiddle with his knife. It seemed as if something was on his mind but he appeared reluctant to reveal what it was. Finally he lifted his head to meet Atticus's eyes. "I ran into Camille."

Atticus's head shot up, for the first time in years a true smile lit his face. "How is she?"

Relief filled Merle's face, he relaxed and smiled jovially back at him. "She's doing well, looked as beautiful as ever."

"What is she doing now? Is she married?"

"She is designing women's clothing in Paris and is highly sought after. That's how I ran across her; Jane insisted we go to see her while we were in France. Though I didn't know who it was we were going to see at the time, and of course Jane has no idea who she is. She has chosen not to marry, though I'm sure if she met the right man she would settle down. She says she enjoys having control over her life, being free, and taking care of herself. She seemed happy enough but she told me she misses Genny every day and that she actually hides a little G in every piece of clothing she creates."

Atticus turned away as tears burned his eyes. He tried not to think about the wonderful life he would have had with Genny if she hadn't been killed, but between this news and the baby, he was flooded with images of her in ways he hadn't been in years. Her raven eyes swam before his face, his nose was filled with the scent of asters as her laughter rang in his ears. His head bowed beneath the piercing blade of sorrow that pierced his heart. A blade that hadn't dulled over the years but only sharpened with every day he spent without her.

"She told me to tell you that she says hello and that she misses you also," Merle continued.

"She wouldn't miss me if she knew me," he murmured unable to keep up appearances with the barrage his senses were taking. "I should have died that day."

Merle leaned over the table toward him. "Didn't a piece of you though?"

Atticus shuddered, his nostrils flared as those words caused knowledge to spark within him. "Yes," he confirmed and lifted his head to meet Merle's gaze. Though it was far more than just a piece of him that had ceased to exist but he would never reveal that. "Yes, a part of me died that day."

It seemed strange to confirm it aloud but once the words were out, he couldn't take them back. Merle sat back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. He didn't speak again as they sat together well into the night. It was the closest he'd come to making a connection with anyone in years and though he knew it wasn't much of one, he didn't want Merle to leave. The silent presence of another within the room actually made him feel almost alive again, but he knew it was a feeling that wouldn't last.

"She smelled of asters," he murmured.

"I remember," Merle said.

Maybe that was why he felt almost alive again, because he had someone else to remember her with him if only for a little while.

***

December 15, 1225

My dearest Genny,

Word arrived today that my second son was born on October 21. I knew she was to have the baby around then but I didn't return for the birth this time. Why would I? I was there for the birth of my first son; I found no reason to be there for the second. It's reported that he is healthy and that she has chosen the name Caleb for him. It's not a name I would have chosen, but who am I to judge? The children are simply a means to an end after all.

It's strange, people die so quickly within this desert that even though I've been here for some time, I haven't had to move about much in order to avoid detection. It would be a dream if the rest of the world could be more like this place.

***

May 30, 1227,

My dearest Genny,

The Council has called me back. I've just received word that my Uncle Nyles met his demise in a hunting accident and that they believe it is time for me to assume my place amongst them now that they are down a noble. I don't know how I'm going to handle going back to civilization. I don't know if I can go back to the charade that I've been avoiding for almost a hundred and fifty years.

***

Atticus sat and watched as his sons moved around the field. Even at their young ages he could see the differences in the two of them. The oldest had a kindness in him that Atticus was determined to rid him of. It was a horrible thing for Braith to possess, one that would only destroy him in the end. It was a weakness that Atticus could not tolerate. Not in the son that he planned to have become one of his strongest soldiers in the war that he would one day wage across this land. Even as he watched though, the eldest knelt to call forth a kitten that had been hiding in the woods. The kitten crept out cautiously but continued forward at Braith's urging. There was delight all over his child's face as the kitten finally came to him.

Atticus contemplated putting the child out of his misery before life destroyed him also, but he was aware of the fact that the staff of the villa didn't like the younger child. Some even feared him. Caleb was known to laugh as he bit, pulled the hair, or kicked and beat at those hired to take care of him. Atticus found this amusing; in fact it was something he took pride in. Whereas the oldest was every bit the clueless, hapless bastard he had once been, this younger specimen was every bit the heartless, savage monster he had become.

However, Atticus was old enough to hide the insanity and ruthlessness within him, Caleb was not. The youngest may be the merciless son he would need to one day crush the human race beneath his heel, but the vampires would not follow him. They were more likely to turn against him and put him down as a child when it would be easier to kill him, if they thought there was any chance he would rise to power.