Meadow's Keep (The Gatekeepers Series) (24 page)

Chapter Eleven

Eryk turned onto the side road that would take him down the narrow lane that stretched along Atlantic Avenue’s “gold coast” in Virginia Beach. These were the summer beach houses of the very wealthy. A fine sprinkling of yellow-tan sand dusted the street, with heavier patches strewn about from a recent wind. He turned into the driveway of the multi-story building. The place hardly resembled the beach houses that dotted the road closer to Atlantic Avenue. This place was brick and concrete, a clean modern sweep of deck surrounding vast expanses of glass, sitting on a dune overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. As he stepped through the tall gate, security lights flashed on. He made his way up concrete steps and rang the bell beside the double teak doors.

He’d barely stepped back when the butler opened the door. “Mr. Eryk
! It’s good to see you. It’s been a long time.” The initial rise in voice was the only step out of character the older man allowed.

“Hello, Daniel,” Eryk smiled and held out his hand. “
It’s good to see you, too.” Daniel was tall and slim and had to be seventy, if he was a day. Ever loyal to the family, he’d spent his life always being where they were, generally leaving after they did and yet being there waiting for them when they arrived. Growing up, Daniel had been more father to Eryk than his own and the simple handshake spoke volumes.

“How’s your mother?” Eryk stepped into the wide foyer.

Daniel smiled and shook his head. “She just got back from Colorado. I’m just grateful she didn’t try skiing.”

Eryk laughed. “Give her my best.” He’d sen
t her beignets from New Orleans’ famous Café Du Monde for her birthday—her 89
th
birthday. He adored Gloria. She was spry, brilliant and enjoyed life more than anyone he’d ever met. When he was in his teens, he’d gone to stay with her and she’d taken him to a ranch in Wyoming where he’d learned to ride a horse and lost his virginity to a neighboring rancher’s daughter.

“I will,” Daniel said. “
She inquires after you all the time.”

“Did she ever come to one of the shows?”

Daniel shook his head. “She said why should she pay money when she could see you
perform
any time she wanted.” There was a twinkle in the old man’s eyes. Daniel and his mother had always known about Eryk’s
talents
and always treated him as though he was the most normal kid in the world. Eryk loved them for that.

“You’re right, of course.” He glanced around the great room
, off the foyer. “Is my father around?”

“He’s in his study. Will you be staying for dinner
?”

“I doubt it, Daniel. I’m sorry.”

“Another time, perhaps.” There was a hint of sadness in the voice.

Eryk reached out and patted him on the arm. “Definitely. I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

Daniel lifted a brow. “A woman, perhaps?”

“Yes. A woman,” he said and found himself wishing he could sit in the kitchen with a cup of coffee and talk about Jasmine.
“You’d like her.”

“Then I look forward to it.”
With that, Daniel turned and made his way to the kitchen.

Eryk
walked down a wide corridor off the great room and knocked once on the door before opening it. His father sat behind the massive mahogany desk, working. He was the only man Eryk knew that kept his suit jacket on at home. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen him in really casual clothes. Ironically, they didn’t suit him at all.

“Daniel, I’ll eat lat
er,” he said without looking up, his head bent over the papers.

“I’ll let him know,” Eryk said and stepped into the room.

The man’s head jerked up. “What are you doing here?” He looked past his son at the door Eryk had left open.

“It’s nice to see you, too
,” Eryk commented as he walked over to a narrow set of carved doors, pulled them open to reveal a fully stocked bar, poured a general splash of scotch into a short tumbler, walked back to his father’s desk and set it in front of him.

“What the hell’s that for?” the old man snapped.

“What? We’re gonna have a meeting without you getting a drink first?”

“I don’t have to put up with this crap from you.” He pushed his chair back. “
But since you’re here, why don’t you tell me what the hell you meant by your comment the other day.”

Eryk sa
t in the chair across from his father, leaned back, studying him. He’d always figured he resembled someone on his mother’s side and, since he’d never met them, he never worried about it. His father was shorter, stockier, with nondescript brown hair and brown eyes. His mother had blue eyes and black hair, a striking woman, and, although taller than her husband, carried herself with elegant grace. No one would ever suspect she’d come from the wrong side of the tracks—thus, her complete break with her family. Eryk had figured a long time ago that the two of them didn’t have a single heart between them.

He’d thought hard about how he would approach his father. Now, it just seemed he wanted the truth. Eryk held up his hand and let a small ball of energy form—let it dance above the palm of his hand.
He watched it, then shifted his gaze to the man across from him and watched the beads of sweat glisten on the old man’s forehead and the hand tremble as he reached for the scotch. “Why don’t you just tell me who I am?” Eryk asked.

Donald Vreeland took a long drink of
scotch, took the handkerchief that he never used from his breast pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Eryk let the ball disappear with a pop. Donald
flinched. Eryk leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “Well, I don’t have your DNA and I do have a twin brother. Why don’t we start there?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Eryk watched the man who’d claimed to be his father visibl
y slump. The shoulders sagged and, for the first time in Eryk’s memory, the man had no presence. The suit seemed to hang looser on his frame. He could almost feel sorry for him. Almost.

Donald finished the scotch and leaned forward, letting the glass rest between his hands. He stared at it as he spoke. “You know, I’d never had a drink until the night you were born.
”

Eryk said nothing, just waited.

“Your mother went into premature labor. Probably all that damn effort on her part to look like a debutante while pregnant. Anyway, the child—a boy—was stillborn. I was devastated. Someone approached me in the hallway. A woman had come into the charity ward and had given birth to twins. She was strung out on drugs but the babies seemed fine. For a price, she would switch our dead infant with one of the living babies. I stroked a check for $30,000.00, the switch was made, and no one was the wiser. Everyone acted like Martha had given birth to a healthy baby boy. She’d been unconscious so she had no idea what had transpired. I was so sure she’d know that I went out and got lit. Funny, she didn’t appear to be aware of anything unusual.”

Donald rolled the glass between the palms of his hands, watching
the scotch move along the edge of the bottom. “I had no idea what happened to the charity case. I assumed she took her baby and went back to wherever she’d come from and spent her portion of the money on drugs. When your mother didn’t show the natural affinity toward you, I figured she just wasn’t maternal by nature. Then, you started doing…,” he waved his hand in Eryk’s direction, “…whatever that is and I drank.” He raised his glass in salute and finished the last of it before lifting his gaze to Eryk. “I set up a trust,” he said in self-defense. “I fed it faithfully so you’d never lack. I did everything I thought was right.”

“Except be a father to me.”
The hardness in Eryk’s voice put a chill in the room.

Donald didn’
t answer.

Eryk rose and walked to the door.

“Does the other boy…?”

“Yes.” Eryk stated and walked out the door, not looking back.

Daniel was at the front door. Eryk stopped. “I’ll call you.” He took the older man in an embrace and felt the strong sinewy arms hug him back. He’d never once acted afraid of Eryk’s powers.

“I can’t wait to hear about the young woman.”

He nodded and opened the door, stepping silently into the night.

****

“Okay, okay…I’m trying
not
to drop the damn thing. Maybe if we got some more help.” John groaned under the weight of the equipment.

“No
! The fewer the people that see the set-up, the better.”

Jasmine stopped at the sound of the shouting and winced when she heard a crash and a few
well-chosen expletives. She pulled open one of the heavy doors to the auditorium and stepped inside, watching Eryk dragging a large crate across the stage with John now shoving the other end, all the while mumbling.

“Boys. Boys.” She tried to keep the laughter out of her voice. “Eryk, have you thought about trying to use your…you know….” She wiggled her fingers. “I mean, if you can levitate me or yourself, surely you can give an assist to John here.” Both men turned and glared at her
.

“Actually—” Eryk
stared at the crate and, with what looked like it took very little effort, pulled the huge piece across the rest of the stage.

“Now you use it!” John moaned, rubbing his hand against his lower back.

“Don’t be such a baby,” Eryk hissed.

Jasmine stopped on the second step
leading up to the stage. Talk about déjà vu. How many times had she watched Dorian and John go through the same motions over something inane. If she didn’t know it was Eryk standing on that stage, she would have sworn it was Dorian. From the look on John’s face, he’d just realized the same thing.

“Wow.” John turned to her.

“I know.” The spell broke as she approached.

“What?” Eryk was applying leverage to a
crowbar, trying to open the crate. “Magic doesn’t work on everything.”

She decided comparing him to Dorian at this moment might not be her best option. He looked ragged. Dark shadows emphasized his green eyes, giving them an almost sinister
gleam. His shirt was still damp from the sudden cold shower that had appeared out of nowhere, drenching him before he got inside. Jasmine could sense, and she wasn’t sure how, that he was straining to maintain whatever little congeniality he possessed at the moment and that wasn’t much.

“Jasmine…,” Lily called from the door, stopped when she spied Eryk, turned, and without saying another word, fled back out the door.

Eryk stared after the girl.

“Okay. That leaves no doubt. What is it about you that sends her into hiding?”
Jasmine approached Eryk, watching as his eyes narrowed in concentration.

“My guess is that she thinks I recognize her. And I do. I think. I just don’t know from where.”

“Really? You need to tell Jenn whatever you can. The girl is obviously scared. Try to remember.” She turned and headed back down the steps.

“Wait,” Eryk followed, taking her arm. “Let’s not.” He hurried on when he saw her expression. “I don’t mean Jenn. I mean let’s let Lily think I don’t have any memory of her. Maybe if I can be around her a little, I’ll remember.”
He walked with her up the aisle.

“Hey,” John called. “What about
all this stuff?”

With a wicked grin at Jasmine, Eryk called over his shoulder. “Oh, just put it anywhere.”

They let the door close behind them, shutting out a few more expletives from John.

****

The plan had worked. As soon as Jenn had approached Lily, supposedly concerned that Eryk’s eyes were the problem, letting her figure out for herself that he didn’t know her, Lily was all over the stage, actually hinting that she wanted to be in the act. Jasmine put Lily in charge of costumes and, under Eryk’s direction and a few quick sketches by Lily, she was off to wardrobe, a huge smile showing her chipped-tooth grin.

It took until
midafternoon to get the stage set up just the way Eryk wanted it. Every piece had a precise place and he worked from the drawing and scene mark-ups he’d done earlier. Apparently, with such a small stage, placement was essential, not only for effect, but for ease of transition. He made her walk through the steps several times, once or twice rearranging part of the set. He finally called it quits—but only after Bask had called, telling them to get a move on—he wanted a report on Meadow’s Keep sooner rather than later.

****

Eryk turned down Atlantic Avenue, heading toward Fort Story, before Jasmine realized he wasn’t using the GPS. “You’ve been here before.”

“I’ve never been to Meadow’s Keep,” he said and she watched as
he glanced toward the ocean side, over and over.

“Know someone on the
Gold Coast?”

He seemed distracted. “Huh? Oh, yeah. I do. My parents—the Vreelands
, he corrected—have a place there.”