Chapter 9
Bel walked Cerberus until she lost track of time, the mansion’s lights so far behind them she had to use her phone’s flashlight to keep from tripping on her pitch-black dog. Her body was numb, but she wasn’t sure if it was the frigid night air or the truth she’d fled. She knew who Eamon was. He’d never hid it from her. They’d met when he’d left her bleeding out on that lonely New York City street because of Alcina’s curse, but to learn he was the monster behind one of the most infamous killers history remembered? She was a police officer. She upheld the law and hunted down murderers, and while she was aware of his destructive past, she hadn’t expected the true scope of his brutality. Could she forgive that much bloodshed? And what did it say about her that she wanted to?
Bel sank to a seat atop a fallen tree trunk and watched Cerberus dig his way to some hidden treasure only he sensed. The freezing tears burned her cheeks, and she craved the warmth of her bed. She wanted to stop being cold, to stop being transported back to that nightmare of a mountain she’d thought she’d die on. She wanted to go home… only her cabin wasn’t the home that came to mind.
Her tears fell harder as she curled her legs against her chest to brace against the wind. How could his mansion be home now? How could she ignore the magnitude of his crimes? Or that his true nature might rear its insatiable head again? She was a hypocrite. She’d argued with Olivia that Eamon and Ewan were men worthy of love, yet here she sat, hiding among the ice to avoid associating the man she loved with the murderer history remembered. Bel hated herself for being a coward, for being no better than Olivia as she fled from the truth. In reality, she was worse because while Ewan had lied to her partner for months, Eamon’s honesty surfaced the moment her survival broke Alcina’s curse. They’d met with his teeth around her throat, and Bel had instantly understood he belonged to the darkness. He hadn’t even pursued a friendship with her until he confessed to scarring her. She’d entered their relationship with eyes wide open, and while he hadn’t told her everything, he’d warned it was terrifying. She knew the devil was in her bed, yet she welcomed him anyway, so how could she run away now? And how could she justify staying? Could she give her heart to a man who killed infinitely more people than the most heinous serial killers to walk the earth? She’d thought the Matchstick Girl Killer was a monster unmatched, but compared to Eamon, his dozens of homicides were child’s play.
Her phone rang, the trilling too loud in the empty darkness, and Bel almost fell off the tree trunk. “Hello?” she answered as she captured Cerberus’ leash. The cold had grown unbearable, and she suspected the aggressive frost and not the horror of Eamon’s birth was to blame for the new tears slipping down her cheeks.
“Hey… are you all right?” Briar asked through the connection.
“I’m walking Cerberus, and it’s freezing,” she lied.
“This weather is miserable,” Briar said. “But it sounds like you’re crying. Are you okay?”
“I don’t like the cold,” Bel said. “It deposits me back on that mountain, and my brain keeps preparing to freeze to death.”
“Oh, Isobel…” Her sister’s voice broke. Now they were both crying. “That’s actually why I called. I saw the news about that writer’s murder, and I wanted to check on you. After our last conversation, I realized I haven’t been doing a good job of that.”
“You’re busy with the kids. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not because I never knew my baby sister was almost blown up. I should know these things.”
“Why? So I can stress out yet another person in my life?”
“Yes!” Briar practically shouted. “For all intents and purposes, I am your mother, so yes, I want you to stress me out. It’s better than realizing I barely know you because you feel uncomfortable talking to me.” She paused, clearly waiting for Bel to speak. “Would you like to talk about it?” she asked when the line remained silent.
Bel opened her mouth to answer because she wanted to talk. Only not about the snow. She’d been unpacking her mountain survival with her therapist, but her discussion with Eamon was something she wanted to share with her sister. She wanted to ask how a cop could forgive such a bloodthirsty killer. Or why she still loved him despite the images of him impaling ancient armies on spikes. Or why her brain had started associating his mansion with the word home?
“Eamon and I had a rough conversation,” she blurted.
“Okay…” her sister dragged out the word. “You guys all right?”
“Yes… no… I don’t know.”
“Can you tell me what it was about, or is it personal?”
“Personal,” Bel answered.
“Okay… was it a rough you two will grow from, or the kind you don’t recover from?”
“He told me about his past, and his childhood was so different from ours. His family survived on hate, and it drove him to become someone I could never love. It was painful to hear, and I never want to meet that version of him. The man I know uses his body as a human shield to save my life. The man I love bought almost the entire pet store for my dog. He isn’t the heartless person he warned me he used to be, and I…” she trailed off.
“What do you mean, human shield?” Briar asked.
“He covered me during a shootout,” Bel said, keeping it vague for her sister’s sake, but her memory played out the real version. He’d used his own back to protect her from an IED. And he hadn’t hesitated to take a bullet for her when Wendy Darling’s lunatic husband tried to shoot her. How could the man who’d willingly been torn to shreds to save her be the Impaler?
“Oh my god, marry that man,” Briar said. “Also, that’s terrifying, and I’m sorry that happened to you, but he threw himself over you?”
“Yeah,” Bel lied. Better to let her sister think Eamon pulled a movie stunt and lay on top of her than to learn the blast had peeled the flesh from his bones to expose his lungs.
“Wow, that’s brave. I take everything I ever said about him being terrifying back. Thank goodness someone is watching over you.”
Bel wiped her eyes. Her sister had a point. Eamon might be the devil’s son, but he forever stood between her and death. The universe must have urged Briar to call because her words reminded Bel that Eamon had always been honest about his darkness. He was also a man of action, and he’d made a life-altering decision when he earned her affection. He’d chosen to be worthy of her love, and he’d proved he would go so far as to die or even leave to protect her.
“Okay, I’ll try to move past you getting shot at so I can help, but it seems you’re worried that whoever Eamon was before you met will resurface,” Briar said. “It sounds like he opened up about something painful and was incredibly vulnerable, which is saying a lot. He trusts you with the worst parts of himself. I don’t know the specifics, but from what I can see, it seems he genuinely wants to change. Why else would he confess the truth? By laying it out on the table, he’s given you power over him since you now have the opportunity to leave or use his past against him. It also ensures he can’t manipulate you. If you’re familiar with his old personality traits, you’ll recognize them if he reverts. It’ll be harder for him to gaslight you. I think he truly cares about you, and sharing his history is his first step toward accountability… Bel, why are you crying again?”
“Because my partner and I aren’t speaking, and I needed someone to talk to, and then you called, and I love you.”
“Breathe, Isobel,” Briar said.
“I just needed this,” Bel said as the mansion finally came into view. “I’ve spent so long trying to protect you guys from my mess that I started alienating the only people who can help. I don’t want to ruin things with Eamon, but I’m not good at romance like you are.”
“You think I’m good?” Briar burst into laughter. “Oh, Isobel, you should’ve heard Flynn and my fights when we first moved in together. There were days I contemplated smothering him in his sleep.”
“Really?” Bel paused in the driveway.
“Really,” her sister confirmed. “But we love each other, so we worked through it. Our disagreements didn’t break us. It made us stronger, and here we are, married with kids. Relationships start all warm and fuzzy, but then real life hits the fan, and it’s a mess. Couples who survive aren’t those who never fight. They are the couples that struggle and grow together. I admit, you and Eamon are going through growing pains earlier than most, but you’ve both been through hell. Kidnappings and murders force emotions and stress to explode, so you’re facing hardships faster than most. But hard conversations are healthy. Never marry a man you can’t argue with because one day you’ll wake up and learn he gaslit you by faking everything. Couples that are too perfect are bombs waiting to detonate…” Briar cursed. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right.” Bel smirked. Her sister stumbling into a cliche wasn’t triggering. If anything, the jokes made her reality easier to bear.
“Okay. Well, you know what I mean. You don’t want a partner who picks fights or demeans you, but you need someone willing to put in the work. Only you can recognize which Eamon is, but I think he’s trying to strengthen your relationship.”
“He isn’t picking a fight,” Bel said. “He’s being honest… painfully so, but not in a mean way. He just doesn’t hide things from me.”
“That’s a good thing, even if it’s sometimes painful,” Briar said. “He freaked me out when we first met. He is intimidating, but it’s obvious that you’re important to him.”
“So, we aren’t falling apart?” Bel started crying again. The past months had been fraught with terror and emotions, but these tears felt like a personal assault. Maybe she was getting her period, and her hormones were bullying her.
“I can’t answer that for you,” Briar said. “It’s your relationship, not mine, but you’re communicating, which is the healthy way to sustain a relationship. Have the hard conversations before you waste too much time because you’ll either learn you dislike each other, or you’ll realize you’re soulmates. Romance books paint happily ever afters as stagnantly simple happiness, but relationships aren’t fairytales. They’re gardens you cultivate, and with gardens come both roses and weeds. Pulling weeds can be excruciating, but when those flowers bloom, the pain is worth it. If you don’t pull the weeds now, your roses will choke to death.”
“Don’t let this go to your head, but you’re insanely smart,” Bel said as she and Cerberus pushed through Eamon’s front door into the heated foyer.
“It’s about time you realized that,” Briar laughed. “I may not solve murders, but I am happily married. I’m overjoyed you finally need my romantic advice. Do me a favor, though. Don’t wait until you’re crying to call. I want you to be happy, and I think you truly love Eamon. I hope you two succeed.”
“Me too.” Bel smiled, realizing she meant it. Eamon’s history had freaked her out, understandably so, but her sister was right. Hard conversations weren’t the sign of the end. It was how they would survive this life together.
“Do you feel better?” Briar asked.
“Yeah.”
“Good. And what did we learn?”
“Okay, okay, I’ll call more.”
“Mission accomplished. All right, I have to wrestle two little boys into their pajamas, so I’ll say goodnight… Before I do, what’s that banging?”
“Oh, that?” Bel laughed. “I tune it out, so I didn’t even notice. It’s Eamon with the renovations. He’s rebuilding the entire mansion himself.”
“Wow. Want to send him my way when he’s done?”
“Sure…. He’s designing the house for me, apparently,” Bel said, the girlish urge to share something romantic unexpectedly bubbling out of her. “He’s been paying attention to what I like and incorporating it.”
“Oh, that’s hot,” Briar said. “See, that man loves you. Mark my words, he’s planning to ask you to move in with him, and he wants you to feel comfortable.”
“Been there, done that,” Bel laughed as a child shrieked on her sister’s side of the call. “He asks me to live with him once a month.”
“Already? Isobel Emerson, you guys are fine—put that down right now… Because I said so—sorry, what was I saying? Right, communication is healthy. Don’t date a man who never lets you see his truth. You’ll end up married to a stranger you can’t stand or one who’s dangerous.”
Bel’s mind flashed to Olivia. Ewan had concealed a monumental truth from her, creating their relationship on a lie. Eamon hadn’t done that. He wanted her to love him with eyes wide open, and that took courage. He’d put everything on the table, risking her hating it enough to leave.
“Yes… yes, Mommy’s coming. Sorry, I need to go,” Briar said. “Bath time is getting out of control without me.”
“Thanks for calling,” Bel said as she climbed the stairs toward the sounds of demolition.
“I’m always here for you, so pick up the phone and call me.”
“Deal.”
“Okay, love you.”
“Bye.” Bel hung up, her chest infinitely lighter, and she thanked whoever her guardian angel was for inspiring her sister to randomly call so late on a weeknight.
The crash of a sledgehammer crashed against a wall, jerking her to attention, and she followed the thunder through the peeling halls until she found the source of the rage. Eamon’s back faced her, and while his heightened senses always heard her long before she entered a room, he seemed oblivious to her return. She read the tension in his muscles, the fear in the way they coiled, the agitation in his rigidity, and he was taking his frustration out on the crumbling wood of this forgotten level.
Bel crossed the floor and captured him in her arms, pressing her cheek against his sweat and dust-streaked back. He’d stripped his shirt off, his skin filthy from his exertion, but she didn’t care. She cemented herself against his spine, her fingers digging into his chest as she pulled him closer, and his body sagged. All the tension bled from his muscles, and for a long moment, he stood hunched before her, his relief at her return so palpable that it seeped through his skin and settled in her chest.
Bel and Eamon stood side by side, brushing their teeth before the colossal bathroom mirror in the perfect image of domesticity. He wore only boxer briefs. She wore only his tee shirt, both of their hair damp from the shower as they brushed in unison. Back and forth. Back and forth. They were just a normal couple readying for bed, ordinary people hovering over their his-and-hers sinks, and then Bel destroyed the facade.
“Why me?” she asked as she broke eye contact with her reflection and twisted to face the towering wall of muscle beside her. “You admitted to softening over the years, especially after your friendship with the World War II soldiers, but by your own admission—or lack thereof—you didn’t bury the monster until you met me. Why? And are you truly different, or will the beast rear his head when I’m no longer enough to inspire goodness?”
“You’ll always be enough,” Eamon said.
“So why me?” she repeated. “It’s about what you tasted in my blood that night we met, isn’t it?” When he didn’t speak, she had her answer. “What did you taste? What about my blood made you change your entire life? And if you say we’re some sort of fated mates, I will walk out of this house and never return because I refuse to be in a relationship where I have no say. I won’t be with a man like you because fate preordained our joining. If I’m with you, then it needs to be because I chose to forgive your past. Because I love you enough to make this work.”
“We aren’t mates.” Eamon put his toothbrush back in its holder. “There’s no such thing. At least not for the sons of hell. Do I believe you’re my soulmate? Absolutely, but in a very human way. A preordained path didn’t force us together. I think fate had a hand in our meeting, but you’re standing in my bathroom wearing my shirt because you chose me of your own free will.”
“Oh, thank god.” Bel sagged against the counter, rubbing her chest as if it might slow the thundering of her heart. “So, some irresistible magic isn’t demanding we love each other?”
“No,” Eamon said. “It might make you feel worse to learn you picked a man like me instead of fate forcing us together, but nothing’s controlling you. If you love me, it’s because you want to. Some might find that unromantic, but I’m of the opposite opinion. I think the fact that you choose every day to stand by my side makes you the most beautiful person in the world.”
“It doesn’t make me feel worse,” Bel said. “I’m relieved. I want to be here of my own free will.”
“You are.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the sink.
“So what did you taste?” she asked. “What about me made you love for the first time in centuries? What about me made you kill the half of you birthed by hell? Or is this just a reprieve?”
“I honestly don’t know, Isobel,” he said. “I’ll never be a good man. I’ll always be the worst of humanity, and I can’t guarantee that the murderer won’t rear his head again. All I know is that while I’m no hero, I can be the hero in your story because I like the man you see when you look at me. I want to be the reason your eyes light up and your lips smile. The devil my father bred into me left me hollow and angry. I can never purge hell from my veins, but for the first time, I feel alive, and that’s because of you.”
“Heroes sacrifice for the greater good.” Bel stepped closer to him, the warmth of his presence kissing her skin despite the fraction of air separating them. “Villains burn the world to save the ones they love. Maybe it’s okay that you’re a bit of a villain.”
“I would burn it all down for you.” Eamon closed the distance, capturing her face as he towered possessively over her. “Myself included. That much you can count on. I can’t promise that my true nature won’t fight its way to the surface, but I can promise that I’d die before I hurt you ever again. And that I’ll do my best to never re-inhabit the Impaler.”
“Thank you for being honest.” Bel slid her palms up his chest. “I realize that wasn’t easy, and I’m sorry I freaked out. I was expecting the killing-people-to-drink-their-blood bit, but I wasn’t expecting the rest.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. I’m no better than Ewan.”
“That’s not true,” Bel said, once again thankful that her eldest sister had impeccable timing with her words of wisdom. “And it’s why I stand by my decision not to tell Olivia. You didn’t trick me into dating you like Ewan tricked her. Unconventional relationships like ours are impossible without honesty, so if I’d told her, it would’ve meant nothing. Your teeth were on my throat the first moment we met, so I’ve always understood. You never pursued so much as a friendship with me until you confessed the truth about New York, and after witnessing Alcina’s magic force you to attack me in the woods, I was very aware of the man I’d let into my life. Your honesty helped me see past your darkness.” She rubbed his bare chest for emphasis. “My soul might be damned for saying this, but Impaler or not, you’re the person who makes me feel the safest. You’re who I want to be with.”
“Do you mean that?” Eamon tugged her closer.
“Yes… if I can forgive you for scarring my throat, I can forgive you for something that happened hundreds of years before I was born. I won’t pretend that I’ve magically flipped a switch and forgave all your sins tonight. It’ll take me time to come to terms with both your past and process my emotions.”
“But you aren’t leaving me?”
“No.” Bel caught his face in her hands. “You’re not allowed to leave me. I am bound by that same oath.”
“Then I don’t care how long it takes for you to forgive me.” Eamon’s forehead collapsed against hers, and each time she exhaled, he inhaled, filling his lungs with the breath that had once filled hers.
“You’re a good man below the darkness, Eamon Stone.” Her voice faltered as her throat tightened with emotion. History might condemn her for this belief, but she loved the Impaler. No matter the horror, she loved him, and with love came redemption. “It took a lot of courage to be honest with me, and you’ve been fighting for us since we met. You aren’t afraid to have hard conversations, either. I admit they hurt, but we need to fight.”
“I wouldn’t classify any of our conversations as fights. Disagreements or arguments maybe, but I never want to truly fight with you.”
“Semantics.” Bel swatted his chest. “The point is, I don’t want to wake up and realize you’re a stranger because we weren’t honest. This isn’t a fairytale where the couple meets and lives happily ever after. We exist in reality, and if we want a healthy relationship, we need to confront difficulties head-on. It’s why Ewan needed to tell Olivia himself. You can’t love a lie, and thankfully, I don’t. When I told you I loved you on Christmas, I knew who I was confessing that to. He’s the same man standing in front of me.”
“I love you.” Eamon pulled her lips to his, kissing her as his hands trailed down to her thighs to hoist her up his body. He wrapped her legs around his waist, and for a breathless minute, he showed her how desperately he loved her.
“But if we’re being honest, there’s one more confession I need to make,” he whispered against her mouth as he carried her to bed.
“I can’t take any more confessions today.”
“It’s not like that.” Eamon rubbed Cerberus’ head before pulling the sheets around the trio. “It’s about what I tasted in your blood. It’s what made me save your life instead of killing you that night in the city. It was love.”
“But you said we weren’t fated mates.”
“Not ours. Your parents.”
“My parents?”
“Little is known about it,” Eamon explained. “Mostly because people like you have an incredible power flowing through your veins. If you think hate is strong, you should see the strength of pure love. Unfortunately, most of what’s known about the offspring of true love is rumors because beings like me spent our lives hunting them down. When a couple’s love is unadulterated and pure, their children are born with the sweetest blood. It’s believed to be the strongest magic known to mankind, but there’s little proof. Witches hunted them down and slaughtered them as sacrifices. My kind sought them out to feed on them. Historically, humans like you don’t survive long enough to prove the rumors. I’ve killed every child of love I’d encountered and drank them dry until you and now your sisters.”
“Why me, though?” she asked, curling into the safety of his chest. “If you killed all the others, why did you let me live?”
“My friend from World War II,” he answered. “He thawed something inside me. For the first time in my life, I cared, and then I met you. Through my drunken haze, I realized you were special. You were the product of a love so rare it birthed a sort of magic, and I couldn’t kill you. I wanted to. Your blood is my drug of choice, but I couldn’t go through with it. All I could think was no one had ever loved me, and I fantasized about what being loved would feel like. I craved your presence. It was intoxicating… Why are you crying?”
“I can’t imagine living for centuries without someone loving me.” Her tears tickled her nose as they dripped down her face, but before she could wipe them away, Eamon drew her head against his chest, his cool skin erasing the dampness.
“You’re lucky in that respect. So many people love you.”
“Well, you’re not alone anymore because I love you… we’re the couple that makes it, right?” She gazed up at him in the darkness, desperate for him to agree, to confirm that every ugly truth and painful moment they’d suffered would lead to triumph in the end.
“Yes, we make it.” He pulled her into his arms, practically suffocating her against his chest, and for the first time all night, Bel relaxed. “I’ll make sure of it.”
“It feels so good being warm,” she whispered against him, her exhaustion shifting gears as her mind slowed, and she savored the way his skin twitched as her lips formed the words against him.
“I know, Detective.” Eamon tucked the blankets tighter around them, his muscles tense at her meaning. “It’s why you should live with me. I’ll keep you warm every night.”
Bel laughed, the stress from the past hours escaping her body with her voice, and she smiled at the realization that she never wanted him to stop asking her that question.
“You can’t go more than five seconds without suggesting that, can you?” She yawned. Without anxiety fueling her erratic heartbeat, she could barely stay awake.
“I figure if I keep asking, the answer might eventually be yes.”
“You keep telling yourself that,” Bel teased, falling into hazy oblivion, so she missed his response. “And Eamon?” She regained consciousness for a moment. “Talk to Ewan and make him fix things with Olivia because I stand by my belief. These secrets aren’t mine to tell. I love her, but I love you more, so my loyalty lies with you. I’m not responsible for Ewan’s mistakes, so talk to him. I want my friend back.”
“Based on the traffic, I take it the producers didn’t listen to you and cancel the fan events?” Bel asked Griffin the next morning as she leaned against his office doorway.
“No, they didn’t,” her boss groaned. “It’ll cost them too much money, and without proof that Orion Chayce is guilty or in town, they have no intentions of halting production.”
“I don’t understand why they don’t care,” Bel said. “Their writer was murdered.”
“On Eamon’s land,” Griffin said. “Not on set or in the bed-and-breakfast or at the hotel hosting the events. Her death unfortunately has no actual connection to the show. Until we can prove Chayce is here and guilty, we can’t force them to be rational.”
“I can’t imagine money being more important than a woman’s life.”
“Don’t ever let that change.”
“I have no intentions of letting it.”
“Good.” Griffin stood from his desk. “And we’ll just have to be vigilant. If Chayce is in town, we have to find him before he hurts someone else.”
“Olivia and I should look into Gwen Rossa,” Bel said. “If Chayce is here to exact revenge, there’s a reason he started with her. Did she cause the accident and blame it on him? Was she merely a witness? If we find a connection, we might be able to predict his other targets… if there are any. It also might help us locate Chayce.”
“Good idea,” Griffin said. “I’ll?—”
“Detective Emerson?” Officer Rollo interrupted him. “A package was delivered for you. I put it on your desk.”
“Thanks,” Bel said. “Did you see who it’s from?”
“No. There were no addresses on the box. Just your name and the station.”
Bel raised her eyebrows at the deputy. “Thanks, Rollo.”
“No problem.” He nodded as he left. “Let me know what the boyfriend got you.”
“It’s not your birthday,” Griffin said as they walked to her desk. “Valentine’s Day is coming soon, though. You think Eamon sent you something?”
“Maybe. Not sure who else would send me an unaddressed package.” She picked up the small brown box and undid the tape, but when she peeled back the lid, she froze, the blood solidifying in her veins until she couldn’t move.
“What’s wrong?” Griffin asked, but Bel couldn’t find her voice. She didn’t want to believe her eyes, so she merely tilted the package for the sheriff to see, praying he would prove she was imagining things.
Except the color drained from his face when he saw what rested inside the delivery, and she knew she wasn’t hallucinating. Her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her. They recognized what lay inside, and Bel wanted to throw up at the sight. For in her hands sat a tiny white gift box tied with a crimson red bow… just like the one found at Gwen Rossa’s crime scene.