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Still unable to calm down, I curled my fingers into his shirt. Sucked in his scent as if it were my salvation, my cure.
Gently, he breathed a feather-light kiss on the crown of my head, and I felt him bury his nose in my hair for a brief moment.
“You’re going to drive me crazy,” he whispered, quivering against my ear. “I can’t lose you again.”
How was I supposed to understand that now? The memories from the night on the beach washed over me. I wanted to ask him exactly that, but my voice did not obey me. My vocal cords were too damaged to form a sound.
“Don’t say anything. Save your voice until it recovers in a few days.” Once again, sadness settled over his gaze, clouding it and hurting deep inside.
In the meantime, he had arrived in my room. Without hesitation, he headed for the bed. I reluctantly released my fingers from his shirt when my body touched the mattress. One last time, he looked at me. Longingly, desperately, anxiously. Then, without a word, he got up and left the room while Aza and my family rushed toward me.
I still stared toward the door through which he had disappeared for a long time, wanting to call him, although I knew he would not return.
CHAPTER 43
It took several days before my voice was functional again, and the hoarse croak became clearer.
The strangulation marks on my neck had run through all shades of blue-purple to green-yellow, and now nothing held me in my bed anymore. What happened in my backyard shocked the family but left them more united than ever. Even the staff seemed to be drawing closer together, and loyalty in the Johnson household, except for Stephen's still very obscure role, was, according to Aza, without any doubt, seamless.
Most of the time, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling and thinking about everything that had happened in the last few weeks. I was hard on myself, ruthlessly holding the mirror up to myself and trying to accept that being that represented the dark side in me. My anger at Tanael was great, but in the end, I had to admit that I was not one bit better than him. This realization hurt almost as much as the broken heart in my chest. But what Mr. Baldur had done to me was in no way inferior to what I did to Alex. It was imperative that I talk to Alex and talk openly before I made things worse.
In the meantime, Chris kept me updated regarding our research and observations at the docks.
Alex, Chris, Edward, and Aspasia pursued all available literature about Lilith's history and the Holy Grail. Unfortunately, the yield had been very meager. That of the literature as well as that of the clues which resulted from it.
Aspasia's Lilith legend, handed down from her grandmother, was still the most detailed source on the subject. About the Holy Grail, the group had found only superficial information. Any reports about those crusades, which were supposed to have been a Grail quest simultaneously, were untraceable. Nothing on the subject was kept in the university's libraries among the hidden books in the basement of the campus, nor in the modest collection of St. John the Divine church books. It was almost as if someone wanted this history chapter to be forgotten.
We all found this very strange and, at the same time, suspicious. But it also showed us that we were on the right track.
Four days after the incident with John Adam Nash, Stephan took me by limousine to confession with Chris for the first time again. Training was impossible, but I wanted to be there for the research.
“Miss Myrina, I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Stephan greeted me coolly as always, his icy eyes glaring at me from the rearview mirror.
"Yes, Stephan. Thank you, I'm fine," I answered quickly, hoping he would leave me alone for the rest of the ride.
"What a happy coincidence that Mr. Baldur showed up unexpectedly. Don't you agree, Miss?" his gaze became even more penetrating, and I shifted nervously back and forth in the back seat.
"Yes, absolutely. A happy coincidence," I murmured, trying to avoid his eyes. Tanael had not contacted me or my family since my rescue from John Adam Nash. He didn't seem to careabout my condition or well-being. Therefore, I had decided that I didn't have to be interested in him and had very cleverly avoided the subject.
But here in the car, I could neither run away nor pretend to be asleep due to the shortness of the drive. That made me nervous, and the memories carefully packed into a box now threatened to burst it.
I was not allowed and did not want to think about him.
"Did you know that Mr. Baldur …" Stephan again started to turn the topic to my rescuer, but I interrupted him directly this time.
"Stephan, why don't you tell me where you bought that delicious bread you served this morning?"
Piqued, the butler looked at me. "At the Deli around the corner, Miss."
"And the eggs?" I asked further so he wouldn't get a chance to talk about Mr. Baldur again, although I didn't understand why he was harping on this subject so much.
"Also at the Deli," he growled indignantly. I could literally see him grinding his teeth.
“And the juice?” I continued unperturbed and with a sugary smile.
“Deli!” he said, annoyed. From a distance, the church could already be seen.
“And the coffee?” I tormented him one last time. Silence fell as Stephan turned onto Amsterdam Avenue and stopped in front of the cathedral.
