Field of Blood by Wilson, Eric (pdf e book reader .TXT) 📕

Rembrandt’s, on High Street, and I’m told you were traveling down the hill from the museum.”

“I don’t want any problems. My record’s been clean all these years.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“I reported what happened to the police, and that’s God’s honest truth.”

“I know, Zach. I have a friend in the department.”

With that established, the man’s demeanor changed. He bent for-ward, pupils wide with concern. “Is your girl okay? I tried to help, but she wanted none of it.”

“That sounds like my Gina.”

“If there’s a hospital bill or anything, I’ll do my best to sort it out,” Zach said. “But you’re coming to the wrong person if you’re hoping to sue me. I’m not a rich man. Wish I was, wish I could do something, but that’s just the way it is and the way it’s always been.”

“Rest assured, that’s not why I’m here. Gina seems to be okay.”

“Not that I can make any sense of that.” Zach looked down into his orange juice, swirled the glass. “She should’ve been dead. I was squinting into the sun, and then there she was, just like that. By the time I hit the brakes, she was up and over my hood, leaving a crack in my windshield.” He took a deep breath.

Nikki took one of her own. “Go on.”

“Well, it scared me to my bones. I was traveling a good thirty-five, forty miles an hour. I’m not a young man, and I remember a time when hurting a white woman—no matter whose fault—why, that could be a fatal mistake, if you know what I’m saying.”

“Yes, I understand. So you stopped to see how badly hurt she was?”

“Did indeed. I slammed on my brakes and ran back up the street. Saw a person or two already ogling the scene. Well, your girl, she’d been tossed through the air and come down near the curb, twisted like a rag doll. She had blood in her mouth, just a bit. I wasn’t sure what to do. Had lots going through my mind. I don’t get to church as often as I should, but I know a miracle when I see one, and there’s no way on God’s green earth that girl should’ve survived.”

“What’d she do? Was she conscious?”

“She stood up.” Zach shook his head at the thought. “Got right to her feet.”

“Were there any visible injuries?”

“Sounds strange, I know, but I swear I heard bones popping back into place. She straightened up, her eyes all out of focus, and I told her she should wait for an ambulance. Told her she should sit down, and said how sorry I was. I hadn’t even seen her there. She didn’t say anything, just looked at me like I was a ghost, then pushed away and went lurching down the road.”

“And you let her go?”

“Tried to stop her, but she was having none of it. That’s when I saw the angel tattooed on her back—not that I was staring inappropriately, ma’am, but there it was—and I figured it was best to just leave her in the good Lord’s hands.”

“If only it were that simple,” Nikki said.

“I believe it is. Eternal life and salvation, free gifts from above.”

Nikki had faced this sort of simplistic reasoning in some of her sessions. “Zach,” she said, “that sounds a bit irresponsible. Don’t you think we each ought to do our part?”

“Oh, I won’t argue that. But anything I do, it’s just my way of saying thanks to the heavens above. There’s no need to go paying for a gift. Listen.” He reached into his pocket and pushed a business card across the table. “You call if there’s anything you need. I’ll try my best to help, and I do mean that sincerely.”

“That’s thoughtful of you.”

“And I hope you’ll accept my apologies for what happened. Never seen anything like it. Just glad to know your daughter’s all in one piece.”

Nikki hurried back through the deluge to her Acura. She locked the doors, gripped the steering wheel, and sank into her seat. As a mother, she’d always known her daughter was unique, but what were the ramifications of this?

She should’ve been dead . . . a miracle . . .

Sometimes Nikki, in darker moments, imagined her daughter following in her footsteps, wielding that same awful Power of Choice, corrupting the world about her and ushering in Final Vengeance.

Long ago, Nikki Lazarescu had sinned. A mere teenager herself, she’d crossed boundaries and destroyed her relationship with the man she adored. A man with immortal blood. Twins were birthed from their for-bidden love, but her son had been taken from her, and only Gina remained at her side.

Gina knew nothing of her sibling, of her bloodline.

For her own safety.

If the Collectors determined her identity and whereabouts, they might try to destroy her in hopes of cutting off the Nistarim.

To avoid detection, Nikki had moved Gina from Seattle and the Puget Sound area to Romania and now to Chattanooga. She had misled her daughter about certain facts—her birthplace, for example—though, again, it was all for her protection.

Was Gina herself immortal? Had she inherited an immunity to the grave?

Nikki had nursed the hope that such was true, yet never summoned the courage to test it. What was she to do? Poison her own child and wait for a recovery?

Except now, she had her conclusive answer.

Gina had walked away from a head-on collision with a moving vehicle. She had also demonstrated, through the decades, an anomalous aging process. She showed a clear resistance to the effects of time, physically developing maybe one year for every two that passed.

Nineteen sixty-five: Gina’s birth date.

Not that anyone would believe it.

These days, Gina’s peers were fighting the first signs of getting older, while she seemed to be growing stronger, healthier, and more mature. She looked fifteen, maybe sixteen, and her birth documents were forgeries based on a mother’s lies. Even the unavoidable brushes with medical professionals had stirred no suspicions. Based on her own academic progress, she believed she was nearing her nineteenth