Page 8 of Upon Blooded Lips (Vengeance #1)

THE UNSEEN

Thirteen Years Ago

S unlight sparkles through the canopies of the tree-lined streets, creating one of those mornings that makes you happy to be alive. My Harley moves through one neighborhood after another, as if guided by my Heavenly Father Himself.

Cathedral towers rise over the tree line, drawing me to them like a moth to a flame. My parents instilled in me since birth to attend Sunday Mass, and I never miss it if I can help it.

After parking and clipping my helmet to the handlebars, I shade my eyes with my hand and look up at the Gothic building in front of me.

It stretches into the sky like it’s trying to reach heaven, its ornately carved finials and niches a testament to the designer.

My lungs fill with the clean morning air, and my heart soars with the sound of pealing bells calling worshippers to Mass.

Not wanting to miss a single minute, I hurry up the stone stairs and through the vestibule. I dip my fingers into the font and make the sign of the cross before ducking into the last pew at the back.

It’s just as beautiful inside as out, with arched ceilings, magnificent stained-glass windows, and a candlelit altar.

My eyes flutter closed, and the silence pours over me, the smell of candles and incense a balm that soothes my soul and makes me feel at home.

It’s a feeling I get nowhere else, due to what I am.

I am an Unseen. I navigate through life like a living ghost, condemned to never be seen or acknowledged.

People’s eyes slide right over me, a dismissal they don’t even realize but which cuts me to the quick every time.

Even my parents often forgot my existence—unless it was to punish or use me—often leaving me in stores or neglecting to feed me.

It’s a curse I’ve come to accept over the years, even if the loneliness becomes more than I can bear.

At times, the depths of it are so crushing that thoughts of ending it all consume me.

But suicide is a sin, and every time the thought crosses my mind, I’m reminded the Lord has a plan for me. I just need to be patient.

Sometimes, though, I worry He has forsaken me.

He saw me through my childhood, holding me up when I might have fallen.

He was there when I meted out justice to my parents.

When guilt overcame me, He accepted my blood sacrifice as repentance.

He stood beside me through each of my obsessions, guiding me away from the sinful whores when they refused my offerings of love.

All I want is for someone to look beneath the mask and truly see me. To witness the man beneath the monster and love me despite it.

Perhaps I am not worthy. After my last obsession ended in a bloodbath, I spent months roaming from one state to the next, lost in despair.

Every night, I dreamed of ancient knights, of sacrifices and oaths, heroic deeds and quests.

Every one ended with the woman of my dreams in my arms—but only after I completed a quest.

And each morning, I set my bike east, riding into the morning sun like Don Quixote, following the invisible path God laid before me. Willowmen holds the answer—I can feel it in my bones. A quiver of excitement slips down my spine, a sense of rightness settling over me like a cloak.

Please, Lord. Give me a sign.

The heavy wooden doors open behind me, and I glance over my shoulder.

A young girl, perhaps five years old, comes stumbling in, her mother’s hand squeezing her shoulder.

A single beam of sunlight arcs through the stained glass, lighting up the child like some sort of ethereal angel.

Her golden head turns, her eyes meeting mine, and a tiny smile lifts the corner of her mouth as she passes.

Thank you, Father.

The mother shoves her into a pew a few rows ahead of me, and she pops up from behind the seat, her gaze meeting mine once more. In a world where I’m invisible, this little cherub sees me.

I raise my hand and smile. She grins and returns my wave before her mother forcefully yanks her back. The sight causes my brows to furrow, and rage heats my blood. How dare she treat an innocent child so roughly?

A wave of protectiveness fills me. I may not know His reasons, but I am His humble servant and will do as He asks.

Perhaps, once my quest is complete, I will finally find the love I’ve spent my life yearning for.

Five Years Ago

Gentle waves rock the fishing boat while heavy clouds churl and tumble in the sky. I drag the struggling boy to the edge of the boat and peer down into the gray water. It reflects the mirrored mask I wear, distorting my image and mocking my damaged soul.

Ryder Washington fights my hold, begging me to let him go.

My conscience pings, reminding me I don’t hurt children.

But he’s thirteen and old enough to know right from wrong.

He’s spent the past year waging a vicious bullying campaign against Tessa.

I repeatedly warned him to leave her alone, but he ramped up the abuse instead.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

Tessa hid in a supply closet and attempted to overdose on pills she stole from her father. If I hadn’t gotten her unconscious body to the hospital in time, she would have died. He has to be stopped. His next target might not have an Unseen protecting them.

But I cannot outright kill a child. I need my Father to remove this burden from me, to take the choice from my hands.

Just then, a ray of light bursts free from the clouds, creating a sparkling line in the choppy water.

The frigid autumn air burns my lungs as I draw deeply of it, the sign from above cementing my resolve.

I haul Ryder into the air and throw him overboard into Lake Michigan.

It is in God’s hands now whether Ryder survives the five-mile swim back to shore. If he does, I’ll never touch a hair on his head again. If not, well, it’s not up to me to question His motives if He decides to call Ryder home.

Now

She’s in the fucking hospital. Again. I punch a hole through the wall, my rage threatening to obscure all reason.

Father, forgive me.

Why does it seem like the universe is against me?

I’ve spent thirteen years doing my best to protect this child, to see her to adulthood safely.

But obstacles and setbacks keep hindering my process, and I can’t help but wonder if I’m on the wrong path or if some malevolent force is hellbent on stopping me.

All good heroes face hurdles in their quest to rescue the maiden. The Lord tests the strongest of His warriors with the hardest of tasks. Keep your eyes on the prize. No one said the road to true love was easy.

I blow out an annoyed breath and jam my helmet over my head before swinging my leg over my bike, my one indulgence.

Maybe a drive will help clear my head. The engine roars to life, the vibrations running through my body.

I tear out of the garage with a squeal of tires, my sour mood instantly lifting as freedom sluices through my veins.

I allow my subconscious to take control, temporarily freeing me from the heavy cloak of responsibility. My fists tighten on the handles when I find myself in the hospital parking lot, and I sigh. Even my subconscious won’t let me take an hour off.

As I drive through the lanes of parked cars, movement at the entrance catches my eye. The Lord surely does work in mysterious ways. Stephen pushes Tessa in a wheelchair through the electronic doors, and the worry etched on her face makes my heart thump.

I need to let her know I’m here, that she’s not alone.

Stephen senses the threat the first time I pass, watching me warily while I pretend to ignore them and keep driving. The second pass reveals Tessa hiding in the SUV. Her gaze locks on me, seeing me even under the helmet.

It’s okay, little cherub. I’ll keep you safe.

Stephen comes at me from between cars, and I rev the engine and speed away, only to turn back and follow them out of the parking lot. I tailgate them back to the gated community, and once I’m assured she’s going home, I continue on my way.

I have a date with Jacob, Nash, Michael, and Oliver. Those boys need to learn to keep their hands to themselves.