Chapter 18
He hesitated at the door, his finger hovering over the doorbell but unable to make the one, small movement needed to bring him face to face with the people whose lives he'd destroyed. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the porch swing moving softly in the chilling breeze. Turning his head to look at it, he remembered the blissful scene he'd pictured there only a few months ago. But the image of the happy family sharing a glass of lemonade on a warm summer evening was gone. All he saw now was the hard, cold wood beaten into submission by the harsh weather it had endured throughout the years. He thought how like the swing he felt at this moment, beaten into submission by the harsh reality of what he was and the pain he caused others.
Closing his eyes, he turned away from the bleak reality. When he moved, the finger on the doorbell found the strength to summon the mortals inside the house. As he heard the ring, the frigid hand of dread reached out and clutched his heart. He felt the panic rise. How was he going to face them?
Nick heard the hushed voices from inside drift into silence when the sound of the bell echoed through the house. Heavy footsteps followed, and in the next instant, he was confronted with the solemn face of Jacob Simmons--the hollow look of pain in the mortal's expression giving strength to the fog of guilt that lay cold and thick over Nick's mind.
Dark circles under red-rimmed eyes told him of the tears and lack of rest his friend had suffered through the last 24 hours. Drawn, pale features deepened the lines on Jacob's face. In the passage of a single day, it looked to Nick as if his friend had aged a decade or more. The haze of guilt grew darker with the recognition.
"Nick." The quiet greeting held a note of relief as Jacob opened the storm door and motioned for the detective to come inside.
He hesitated at the threshold a moment before beating back the sudden rush of fear and entering the house. He watched as Jacob closed the door and turned back around. The professor seemed unsure of his next move as he captured his guest's eyes with his own. "Thanks...thanks for coming, Nick." Moisture started to pool in the hazel orbs. "I--" A drop slipped from an eye. "I--" As if unable to maintain the facade of bravery another second, he closed his eyes against the pain, tears spilling down his cheeks. "Oh God...." he whispered. "My boy...my little boy."
Nick froze, paralyzed by the anguish he saw before him, knowing that he was the cause of it, hating that he was the cause of it. The urge to run pulled fiercely at him as he stared at Jacob's devastated features, but the need to try and ease the pain he'd caused also pressed heavily on him.
Coming here was a mistake, a terrible mistake. The immortal groaned inwardly. Who did he think he was kidding? He couldn't ease his friend's suffering. All he could do was compound it, make it worse. He was a walking misery factory. Walking away was the only way to save these people.
But even as he berated himself, Nick couldn't completely bury the desire to comfort his friend. When he spoke, his voice sounded as if it came from some place far off in the distance, the low, mournful tone echoing in his ears. "Jacob-- I-- I'm so sorry."
The heartfelt words of apology appeared to snatch the professor from his own sorrow, and focus him on Nick's. Opening his eyes, he closed the gap between them and put consoling arms around his friend.
Nick tensed with the unexpected contact. He was too close. He was allowing himself to be drawn in again. He couldn't let it happen. He was moving away. He had to remember that. For everyone's sake, there had to be distance. There had to be.
He fought to keep his arms at his sides as the warmth of his friend seeped into his body and mind. Within a few ticks of the clock, however, the battle was lost, and Nick gave into both his and Jacob's needs. Returning the embrace, the guilt-ridden vampire once again asked for mercy. "Please forgive me. Please."
"Forgive you?" The tearful words were laced with confusion. Uncertainty was also reflected in Jacob's eyes as he pulled back from Nick and searched the detective's face. "Forgive you for what, Nick? I told you before, on the phone. This wasn't your fault." The hands still resting on the vampire's upper arms gave a reassuring squeeze. "You did all that you could to try and find him. There's nothing to forgive."
The ever-present desire to run came flooding back when Nick looked into the sad, trusting face of Jacob, a sadness he'd put there, a trust he didn't deserve. He would never be able to explain what he'd done, never be able to truly ask for his friend's absolution. For as long as he was here, in this life, the deception would have to continue. The distance would have to be increased. His heart would have to be hardened. The next thirty days suddenly stretched for millennia before him. He had to somehow get through it, even as his loyalties and needs pulled him in opposite directions. He had to try and focus. Everyone would be better off when he returned to his immortal family. Everyone. He had to be strong.
"I--" The lie caught in Nick's throat. "I know, Jacob. You're right."
"Nick?" A soft voice chimed from behind him, and Nick turned to see Elizabeth walk into the tiny foyer.
Like her husband, she was pale, evidence of the horror of the past day etched deeply in the somber frown hovering around her mouth. When Nick met her sad brown eyes, the pain of familiarity sliced through him as he was cruelly reminded of the sight of those same beautiful eyes staring up at him in the vacancy of death. But as he searched the haunting brown pools, he was surprised to see a spark of resolve, a flame of survival, living there. As expected, there was an acute grief, but there was also a light of strength, an unwillingness to surrender to the desolation, a conviction to fight the devastation. And when Nick recognized these things, he couldn't help but envy her courage, her strength. He knew there would be many days of sorrow ahead for her, but he also knew that she would make it, that she would suffer through and survive. But, Nick thought of Jacob's tears a few moments earlier, would her husband? And for that matter, would he himself have the courage to get through this?
"Beth--" Other than another plea for forgiveness, Nick couldn't think of anything else to say. Instead of trying to find the proper words, he moved to stand in front of Elizabeth, and, with a second's hesitation, drew her into a comforting hug. He felt her arms go around his waist as she rested her head on his chest. He didn't hear any tears, and they stood quietly for at least a minute sharing their sorrow in the silence.
Elizabeth was the first to disturb the stillness when she raised her head and looked into Nick's face, a sad smile lifting her lips. "Thank you for being here. It means so much."
Again, the unforgiving savagery of the guilt pounded at Nick's conscience, the bitter voice of reproach taunting him. What it means is that you're a hypocrite. If not for you, and the evil that surrounds you, you wouldn't have to be here at all. There wouldn't be any pain to comfort, any loss to console.
Loss.
Elliot. The name echoed in Nick's head.
Shutting his eyes to the tender expression on Beth's face, he battled the crippling condemnation of the insolent voice, the truth of it shredding the delicate fiber of his composure. The anger and tears surged forward in a forceful rush. He struggled violently to quiet them. The anger was only for himself, not to be thrust upon these already tormented mortals. And while the tears were for his human friends, the unnatural color of the tokens of sorrow could never be seen by the grieving parents. The scarlet droplets were a sign of his inhumanity, a clue to his affliction, a look at his black soul, evidence of his overwhelming evil. He would at least spare Jacob and Beth that hideous sight.
A light touch on Nick's arm prompted him to open his eyes. The gentle hand belonged to Jacob who had moved, and was now standing next to his wife, his voice still husky with tears when he spoke. "Come on, Nick. Give me your coat and we'll go into the living room."
As he slipped out of the long garment and handed it to the professor, his attention was caught by the sound of additional heartbeats in the house. When he was escorted into the small, cozy living room, he was confronted by two more mortals. They appeared to be in their late fifties or early sixties. Nick guessed them to be grandparents. The woman was seated on the couch while the man stood staring into the fire burning in the hearth. The immortal wasn't sure whose parents they were until the woman looked up to register his entrance into the room. Disturbingly familiar brown eyes questioned his presence, and Nick knew in an instant that the couple was Beth's mother and father come to offer support, share their grief and attend their grandson's funeral.
Funeral. Nick hadn't allowed himself to think about the last ceremony of a mortal's existence. The idea of watching young Elliot being put into the ground was.... It was....
"Nick, this is my mother, Edna Gardner." Elizabeth's introduction cut short his unbearable thoughts. "And my father, Paul. Mom, Dad, this is Nick Knight, a very good friend of ours."
Paul Gardner stepped forward and offered his hand in greeting. He was a very tall man. Nick put him at about 6'2" or 6'3". He was slender, and looked to be quite athletic underneath the dark blue sweater and black slacks he wore. His head was covered with a healthy mass of light-brown hair that distinguished him by showing a generous amount of gray at the temples. Solemn blue eyes caught Nick's as his and the mortal's hands met in a friendly shake. "A pleasure, Mr. Knight. We've heard a lot about you." He paused a moment as a deep frown shifted the mask on his face. "Elliot...Elliot told us all about his friend Nick, the police detective."
Nick's grip on Gardner's hand tightened when he heard him say the boy's name. Up until that moment, it had been as if everyone, including himself, had been reluctant to speak the name aloud for fear of somehow making the pain more intolerable than it already was. But Paul Gardner seemed to come to terms with the necessity of facing the fear in his second of hesitation.
His wife, however, didn't appear as prepared for the reference. As Nick loosened his grip on her husband's hand, preparing to release it, Edna Gardner let out a soft moan of distress. The immortal looked over at her in time to see her close her eyes against the raw pain, and slowly shake her head while the tears spilled down her cheeks.
Paul quickly released Nick and went to his wife. Sitting beside her on the couch, he put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, whispering gently to her. "I know, dear. I know."
Nick watched the anguish of two more mortals play out before him and felt the guilt rip a little deeper into his mind. He'd done this. He'd caused this torture. He was the one who'd torn their lives apart. What could he say? What could he do to make it easier?
Nothing. Nothing but leave them alone. The voice spat back at him.
"Mom." Elizabeth's quiet plea pulled Nick's attention away from his unrelenting conscience. He looked on through tormented eyes as Beth joined her parents on the couch and put tender arms around her mother. A tarnished stillness followed while Edna Gardner allowed her grief to flow freely with the tears that seemed never-ending. But, after a few moments, the older woman pulled away from the support of her daughter and husband, and appeared to find the strength to stem the tide, for now. Her bloodshot eyes looked up at Nick before quickly dropping to the floor. With a shaky, self-conscious hand, she reached up to wipe away the tears on her face. Taking a handkerchief from his pants' pocket, Paul handed it to his wife. She took it and continued to dry her face as she spoke. "I'm sorry. I just can't.... I can't...."
"Shhh...it's all right, Edna. It's all right." Paul Gardner tried to console his wife.
Nick stood rooted in place, but the desire to escape throbbed in the back of his mind. He didn't know how much more of this he could take. How much more of this destruction he could witness.
"How--" Jacob's broken voice sounded from the doorway. "How 'bout I make us some coffee? I make the best home-brew in all of Toronto." A half-hearted smile skirted across his mouth as he attempted to lighten the moment. The professor's eyes met those of his mother-in-law. She returned the quick smile and nodded.
With an answering nod, Jacob disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.
"Please, Nick, have a seat." Beth motioned toward the faded, wingback chair sitting next to the fireplace.
The immortal fought to overcome the stifling urge to retreat as he blinked, the tight fists at his sides turning into white-knuckled conviction. His eyes focused on Elizabeth's gentle expression, and the tenderness he saw there soothed a little of the returning panic. As he gazed into Beth's soft eyes, he felt some of the tension leave his hands. From somewhere, he didn't have any idea where, Nick conjured up the will to once again crush the impulse to run. Turning, he took the offered chair, his muscles still stiff with the storm that raged inside him.
The next few moments passed in a smothered silence as Mrs. Gardner continued to try and pull herself together, her sorrow, like a stale perfume, hanging heavily in the air.
"So...." Paul Gardner flashed Nick an uninspired smile as he tried to start a subject-altering conversation. "Are you a native of Toronto, Mr. Knight?"
"Nick, please." The vampire quickly returned the smile. "No. I've been here about six years."
"Oh?" Paul's eyebrows lifted in subdued surprise. "Not in town too long, eh? Where are you from?"
"Oh, here and there. Nowhere in particular." Nick's answer was blatantly evasive, but that's all he was going to say on the matter.
A confused crease knitted Gardner's brow, but he seemed to quickly shake off the vague response and tried again. "Where were you before Toronto?"
"Chicago."
"Chicago?" Gardner repeated. "Great city. I've visited there many times over the years. So, you were a policeman there too?"
Nick nodded. He had no desire to sit through a third degree, but if it would keep things settled, he would endure the questioning as best he could.
"And you're a detective in the Toronto department. Homicide, right?"
"Yes."
"Well," the bitter voice of Edna Gardner interrupted the polite, useless conversation. "Have you learned anything, Detective?"
The force with which the accusing question shot from the older woman caught Nick off guard. She didn't strike him as a very aggressive person, but then grief did strange things to people. As he stared at her, he saw an angry spark flare in her brown eye, rage beginning to seep through the debilitating sadness.
"Do the police know anything about the monster who took my grandson's life? Do they have any leads on the fiend who stole Elliot from us? Any idea who the ghoul is that would cut a little boy's throat?!"
The last question was very close to a hysterical scream as Edna Gardner all but jumped to her feet, the hand holding her husband's handkerchief shaking in the air with her fury.
The emotional outburst rammed headlong into Nick like a runaway locomotive, his entire body tensing with the impact. Monster, fiend, ghoul. Yes, those were all accurate descriptions of what had taken Elliot from her; accurate descriptions of what, unbeknownst to Mrs. Gardner, sat right here in her midst.
The nauseating guilt churned in Nick's gut. What could he tell her of the creature that had murdered her precious grandchild? What could he tell any of them? His silence would be one more cruelty visited upon them. They would never know the satisfaction of seeing the guilty punished. There would be no sense of justice or vindication when the killer was caught and made to pay for what he'd done. There would only be a dark, empty void--forever waiting, forever wondering. He would never be able to tell them that their loved one's killers had paid for their crime, one paying with his life while the other paid with what was left of his soul. It was one more agony Nick would be forced to bear, the responsibility for the mortals' painful frustration.
Oh, God. What could he say? What could he possibly say? Nick's jaw tightened as he wrestled with the overwhelming guilt. She was venting her anger in the right direction, but that was also something Nick would never be able to admit. The need to escape came flooding back as he confronted the condemning passion in Edna Gardner's eyes.
"Mom?" Beth, a shocked frown on her face, stood. Putting an arm around her mother's shoulders, she tried to calm her down. "Mom, please." Elizabeth's voice faltered a moment as her own raw emotions came back to the surface. "They're doing all they can."
"Edna, please, take it easy," Paul stood next to his wife.
At that moment, Jacob appeared in the doorway, tray in hand. "Well, here we--" The announcement died in his throat as all eyes turned in his direction. The strain in the room was nothing short of a physical entity holding everyone in its unrelenting grip. As Nick looked at Jacob, it was obvious the mortal had been strangled by the tension the moment he'd returned. The vampire watched the professor's smile fade into startled confusion, a perplexed frown turning his mouth.
"What's-- Is everything okay?" Jacob stammered as he walked into the room, his eyes darting to each occupant before he set the tray on the coffee table. Straightening, he looked back at his wife. "Beth?"
"Everything's fine, Jacob," Edna answered for her daughter before taking a deep breath. "I-- I'm letting my grief get the better of me." Her attention focused on Nick. "I'm sorry, Detective. I didn't mean to fly off the handle like that. I know the police are doing all they can."
Nick tried to concentrate as the walls closed in around him. Why was he here? What did he think he could do for these people?
Shaking his head, he attempted to pull himself away from the edge of despair, and pay attention to what was being said to him. Meeting Edna's eyes, his effort at a reassuring smile was an utter failure as he finally found his voice. "No...no need to apologize, Mrs. Gardner. I understand."
More than you could possibly know, he added silently.
With a mystified frown still etched on his face, Jacob started to pour the coffee.
The three mortals standing by the couch took their seats again as Nick rose from his chair, the need to escape finally overcoming his weakened resolve. "I'm sorry, but I've got to leave. I have to get to work." He knew Reese probably didn't expect him at the precinct tonight after what had happened, but the vampire couldn't sit by calmly and watch his friends sip their coffee in tactful agony knowing he was the cause of that agony. He'd seen too much already.
No, he quietly corrected himself. That was a lie. It wasn't that he'd seen too much, but that he hadn't seen nearly enough. A chilly shard of fear pierced the back of his mind. There would be so much more to come, so much more he should have to face. This was what he'd sown, this suffering. He'd planted the seed of misery. He'd planted it the night he'd agreed to be a guest in Jacob's home. He'd nurtured it every time he made contact with the mortal and his family, feeding it with the misguided belief that he could be a part of their lives. Now the fruits of his hideous labor towered before him, and he was too frightened to confront them. No, he hadn't seen nearly enough, but he'd already seen more than he could stomach. This was part of his punishment, his penance, but he was too weak to face it, too much of a coward.
"Nick?" Elizabeth's hurt eyes focused on the detective, the disturbing sight battering his conscience.
"Mr. Knight, please," Edna spoke. "If what I've said...."
"No, Mrs. Gardner," Nick tried to reassure her, the lie coming a little more easily than he would have liked. "It's not that...really. I have to get to the precinct and...well, I think I should leave you all alone for a while. I should have waited before I came. A family needs some time to themselves."
At least the last part was true.
"Now, Nick, you're a part of this family." The professor swallowed hard as if fighting back more tears. "Elliot--"
"No!" Nick's impassioned denial startled everyone in the room, including himself. He hadn't meant to react so harshly, but Jacob's encouraging words only served to rip further into Nick's already shredded resolve. He could never be part of this family, part of this world. He came from a darker place, an inhuman place. Taking a deep breath to try and steady himself, the immortal slowly shook his head.
"No, Jacob. I really should go. Mr. and Mrs. Gardner, it was a pleasure meeting you." Bowing his head to both the parents, Nick walked into the foyer and pulled on his coat.
Moving to the door, he heard someone else enter the small space. Elizabeth. He knew it before he turned around.
She stood silently for a moment, the fingers of her hands threaded through one another as they hung limply in front of her. She gazed intently at him, and he found it impossible to look directly into the warm, brown depths. There was too much pain there. But more than that, there was too much sympathy there. Sympathy for him. Sympathy that he didn't deserve. Sympathy born of innocence. If she knew what he was and what he'd done, there would be no tender feeling, no sympathy. She would hate him for the monster he was, and rightly so. He deserved no more.
"This wasn't your fault, Nick." The words left Beth in a hushed plea.
He heard them resound in his head as he looked into Elizabeth's face. 'This wasn't your fault....' How many times had Natalie said it this morning at the loft? He couldn't remember. How many times had Jacob told him the same thing? He didn't know. How many times would he have to hear it before he started to believe it? He didn't think he could count that high. He would never believe this tragedy was not of his making. Never.
"You did all you could to find him." Beth's voice cracked with her brimming tears. "Please don't blame yourself."
Nick closed his eyes against the pain, and against the understanding he saw in the woman standing before him. Tears beckoned again, but he pushed them back.
"Nick."
He opened his eyes to find Elizabeth standing directly in front of him, no more than a foot away. A worried empathy still shone on her face as she reached out to put a comforting hand on his arm. She appeared to be struggling with her next words, opening her mouth only to quickly close it again. "The funeral--" After another second or two of hesitation, she spat out the words as if they were a poison she had to purge from her body. Tears still misted her eyes, one spilling down her cheek as she continued. "The funeral...is going to be day after tomorrow." She sighed as another tear journeyed down her face. "It's during the day so I know you won't be able to come, but-- I-- We're having a small...gathering at the...funeral home tomorrow night. I hope you'll come."
Funeral. The funeral. The final ceremony loomed before him like some all-encompassing, black storm cloud, a storm which had the power to tear him apart, to shred what little composure he had left. Elliot in a coffin. Elliot placed in the cold, hard ground. The guilt continued to pummel his badly battered resolve. He couldn't.... He just couldn't.... Oh, God. Elliot.
Nick's eyes had never left Beth's face, and the sorrow that stared back at him was a brutal reminder of what the idea of the funeral was doing to her. What the result of his failure to act was doing to her. With a low, agonizing groan, he pulled Beth to him and hugged her tight. He felt her arms go around his waist as she returned the embrace. Much like when he arrived, they stood together for several seconds. Only this time, Nick endured the sound of his friend's pain as she allowed the tears to flow freely. The gentle crying tore through his heart and, after a short while, it was more than he could bear. Pulling her tighter, he whispered in her ear, "I'm so sorry, Beth. Please forgive me. Please forgive me."
Unable to look at her again, Nick released the grieving mother and quickly turned to the door. Without another word, he made his escape. As he ran to the Caddy, he ignored Elizabeth's tearful plea as she called his name.
End Chapter 18