“Then I suggest we find it fast.”
“I will be in touch,” the Dark One said and then was swallowed by the shadows in the corner.Chapter 16The days sped by thanks to Roarke’s company. He always had a tale to tell or an interest to share, and Mary, having finally regained her voice, was ready to converse about anything.
She did, however, miss Michael more than she had expected. It had been almost a week since he had taken his leave, and she had watched the edge of the woods every day, hoping to see the dark shadow emerge into the light.
“He should return any day now,” Roarke said, busy cleaning his sword.
“I hope he does; I miss him.”
“I have come to realize this past week how much you care for the Dark One.”
“You doubted my love for him?” she asked with a smile and shook her head. “I have never doubted. My love for him is bold and strong and forever.” She threw her arms to the heavens as if inviting their blessings.
“Bold and strong is what you will need to deal with what you will face.”
“You have continued to warn me of my feelings for him. I think you know something that you do not share with me.”
He shrugged. “I know the Dark One’s life is difficult, and love, on its own, may not be strong enough to overcome the obstacles you will meet.”
“I would like to believe that love is strong enough to perform miracles.”
Roarke stopped his work on the sword. “I suggest then that you hold firm to your belief, for you will need it.”
A chill raced through Mary and the old seer’s words echoed in her mind.
You will be the demise of Decimus.
She walked off toward the woods, her mind burdened with thoughts. A shout from Roarke reminded her not to go far. She acknowledged him with a wave and kept to the edge of the woods.
She had thought on her problem while Michael had been gone and had realized there was no easy solution. She was a hunted woman and that would not change, but then Michael was also a hunted man. What kind of life would there be for them? But what kind of life would there be without him?
She also realized the importance of Michael’s work. He would not simply walk away from so many tortured souls. He had made a vow and it seemed unfair to ask him to forsake it for her love.
With so many obstacles in their way, how then could she possibly believe they had a future together? How did she conquer evil so that she and Michael could be free?
Love will be your only weapon.
Her father’s warning was just as clear now in her head as it had been in her dream. How love could be a formidable weapon she did not know, but she would remember and hopefully strike with it when the time was right.
Mary enjoyed a good meal and a good conversation with Roarke that evening. They discussed many things but for some reason shied away from any talk of the Dark One. Mary sensed something was on his mind concerning Michael, and though she wished to question him about it she decided he would tell her in good time.
He did.
Just when Mary bid him good night, Roarke spoke up.
“I will be gone when you wake in the morning.”
“I will miss your company,” she said with sincerity and a twinge of joy, for his departure surely heralded Michael’s return.
“And I yours, but I know you miss Michael very much and will be happy with his return.”
She grew excited. “Will he arrive with your departure?”
“Within a short time of my leaving he will arrive. He would not feel it safe for you to be alone for too long.”
“How do you know of his return?”
“Do not ask me what I cannot answer,” Roarke urged.
“Michael remains cloaked in darkness in more ways than one.”
“You would do wise to remember that, Mary.”
“I find ignorance a foolish mask,” she said.
“Sometimes masks are necessary; they protect.”
“Who?”
“The innocent.”Mary had difficulty sleeping. She would have thought anticipation of Michael’s return would rob her of sleep, but it was Roarke’s last remark about the innocent that had her thinking most of the night.
Who did he mean?
The innocent victims of Decimus’s persecution or did he refer to Michael’s innocence? And if so, what innocence did he speak of? She sensed there was more to Roarke’s warning than she understood, a clue of sorts, possibly to his identity.
She turned and tossed, her mind refusing to let go of her chaotic thoughts, and it was near to sunrise when, finally exhausted, she drifted off to sleep.
Waking to the smell of freshly cooked fish, she yawned, stretched and, grinned wide.
Michael will be home today.
Home?
Home, Mary realized, was where Michael and she were together. It did not matter if a sound roof covered their heads or the land beneath their feet belonged to them. What mattered was that they were with each other, sharing their life, their love.