Heaven Sent

Chapter Three

Cassandra

It's nearing sundown when we're scaling the steps to the tribunal, finding a line of vampires impatiently waiting our arrival. Elijah's carrying a paper bag of medicine from the pharmacy, items that are sure to restore me to functionality. Paris and Damien filed into the bedroom just after Elijah did when I resurfaced, but Erika was holding a meeting. She's here now, and pushes through Elijah's sons, scaling the steps to engulf me in a tight hug.

"Careful with her," Elijah reproaches softly, placing a steadying hand on my back to prevent her impact from sending me flying down the stairs.

She squeezes me, ignoring Elijah completely. I don't mind. "God, I missed you so much."

"I missed you too."

Pulling back to look at her, I smile, noticing her hair has grown considerably since I last saw her. Her dark skin warms under the setting sun, and her smile is no less radiant than that first day I met her in Ireland. She rests her hands on my arms, overlooking my body with intense study.

"You're in a great deal of pain, aren't you? Your energy feels distressed."

I shake my head, wrapping my arm around her back to beckon her indoors. "I'm perfect. I'm here."

Paris sweeps up into my left side, so we're all walking in together. "None of us can believe it."

"Yeah, well once Elijah gets his mind around something..." Glancing back to where he strolls behind us, my grin widens at Elijah's exasperation.

"Yes, jest about my pain. That's comforting."

"He was unbearable, Cassandra."

"Was he?"

"A real rogue. Duties be damned so long as you were missing."

"Keep talking and I'll rid you of your tongue, Damien."

Erika's head falls onto my shoulder, and seconds after, Paris' hand is in mine. Their attachment, so loving and propelled by hundreds of memories, is an unfamiliar crutch I suddenly can cling to. These people know who I was, back when I was a woman without a sense of purpose, just glad to be loved by a vampire in proposed exile. I have to hide who I've become to them now, pray they cannot see through me to my sins.

Elijah may be able to understand them... maybe. But they couldn't.

"Cassandra needs to rest," Elijah says, once we reach the courtyard. All of the outpouring emotion he had for me at dinner has dissipated somewhere in the past ten minutes. It's the walls probably. These cold walls that effortlessly become prison bars.

"Aren't we going to convene on next steps? Is there a plan in place?"

Elijah flashes Erika a judgmental glare. "She's been conscious less than twelve hours, Erika."

"We have three months."

"She's hardly standing." Elijah's eyes meet mine, a silent understanding passing between us both as he pushes the hoards away. "Once she's healed, we will decide on a plan, alright? We just got her back."

Paris lays a calming hand on Damien's shoulder, quelling his partner's rising anxiousness. "We understand. Of course, Cassandra's been through enough. Go on, dear. We'll be here when you wake."

As Elijah grabs me, guiding me towards the path leading to our bedroom, it's impossible not to notice their confusion and curiosity regarding my silence. I look away from them quickly, diverting my gaze to the floor.

"They know I know nothing."

"They're just anxious."

"I would never back down from a fight, weak or not. They know that."