Part 50 (1/2)

”Mary didn't tell me,” he said, raising his hands in defense. ”She's a good woman, Henry's wife ... widow.”

William tensed, a wave of grief pa.s.sing over his face. Tatiana felt it as well. He looked at Marcello then Tatiana. Tatiana tried to turn away in shame. Her father's words stopped her.

”You did what I couldn't,” he said. ”Your brother ... I couldn't cover up for him anymore. He was mad.”

Tatiana frowned. She stepped closer, her eyes glimmering as she read into her father's mind. She found his love for her and his fear of what she was, though he was trying hard to overcome it. She also found his shame over his son. She saw how her father discovered Henry's pa.s.sion for prost.i.tutes, a pa.s.sion that ended in violence and death. But he had no proof of the crimes, only his suspicions, gathered together by little facts and clues--a bloodied glove, an odd comment, a l.u.s.tful look.

Suddenly, Tatiana tensed, feeling the heat of a vision swimming before her eyes. She saw a woman's body, strangled by Henry's hand. She saw another beaten b.l.o.o.d.y like Alice. Another still stabbed. Another hung. Another ... another ... another ...

endless.

”How long have you known?” she whispered in horror. ”How long?”

”After Alice, after you left us, I went to London to speak with him. I mentioned you and he seemed relieved. I looked into his eyes and knew. A father should know his son, but I didn't know mine. I had him followed, watched.” William began to sob, running his hand in his hair as he fell to the ground in grief.

Tatiana went to kneel beside him. She felt Marcello moving away to give them privacy. She watched him stroll down the long line of gravestones before turning to her father once more.

”How did you find me?” Tatiana hesitated before reaching out to touch him. She ran a light hand over his shoulder.

”I was at Henry's home. I saw you through the front window. This morning, I saw my grandson and knew by Mary's face you'd been there.”

”How is William?” Tatiana asked softly.

”Well. Very well.” Her father smiled. ”Strong. Handsome.”

To Tatiana's surprise her father darted forward and gave her a big hug. She felt his s.h.i.+ver as he pressed his warmth to her cold.

”I've missed you, girl. Please, come home. I don't care what's happened to you. I don't care. So help me, I don't. Just come home. Come back to Eastwich.”

Tatiana looked at Marcello. Their eyes locked from across the distance. Slowly, he nodded his head at her.

”Yes,” she whispered, realizing that was what she wanted. She couldn't have a little family of her own, or a normal life. But this was her family. This is what she wanted. She wanted her father nearby. She wanted to watch baby William grow to be a good man. She wanted Marcello.

William's face broke out into a smile. He grabbed her face in his hands, kissing her cheeks in enthusiasm. ”I've kept your room, just as you left--”

”I am a vampire father and a witch. I can't live at the house with you.” Tatiana motioned meaningfully to the graveyard.

”Oh, yes,” William said, a little disconcerted. Then, shaking himself, he swore, ”It doesn't matter. We'll make arrangements. I just want you home.”

Tatiana kissed his cheeks, urging him to his feet and back to Henry's home before he caught an illness from the cold air. She watched in silence until he faded from sight. Then, silently she drifted toward Marcello, who waited patient and still for her.

The blue moonlight cast shadows of the graves. Tree limbs stretched and danced along the dark sky in eerie streaks. Stopping before him, she felt her heart break.

”I release you from your bond to me,” Marcello said softly. He didn't move to touch her. ”You're free to go home.”