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Whispered Bonds
Whispered Bonds

Tally Adams
 © 2019 Tally Adams All rights reserved. No part of this book
may be used or reproduced in any manner without written
permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical
articles or reviews. This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real
persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the
author. Whispered Bonds Saphiire Shadows
publicrelations@tallyadams.com Names: Adams, Tally. Title:
Whispered Bonds / Tally Adams. Series: An immortal romance series
novel Identifiers: ASIN Subjects: LCSH: Missing persons--Fiction. |
Sisters--Fiction. | Vampires--Fiction. | Werewolves--Fiction. | LCGFT:
Fantasy fiction. | Romance fiction. For more information or to
contact the author, please go to www.tallyadams.com.
 Chapter One

"This place won't be the same without you," said the middle-aged
Bradley Campbell with a sigh and a touch of regret. He leaned one
heavy elbow on the bar and gave Lyric a sad little smile. Her last
paycheck was in his hand, held out for her.
Lyric untied the strings of the hideous green apron she'd worn
while waitressing nearly every night for the last few years. She
threw it on the bar in a puddle of fabric and took the envelope with
a nod of thanks. "You'll have a new girl hired in a week and forget all
about me," she said with a chuckle.
He fixed her with a serious stare over his small glasses. "I'll hire
someone soon enough," he agreed. "But there's no forgetting you."
"Hard to forget about the crazy girl, huh?" she teased, trying to
break the solemn atmosphere.
She hated goodbyes. Her eyes already stung with the threat of
tears.
This was a good thing, she reminded herself.
She was leaving this horrible town behind and starting fresh;
giving herself a clean slate. She was going where no one knew she
heard a voice in her head.
Bradley's face slid into a disapproving scowl. "You're not crazy,"
he said. "You hear voices because you've been through a lot. A hell
of a lot," he amended. "And these small town, big mouths didn't
help matters."
"That's the thing about small towns," she said with a shrug that
was supposed to be carefree but came out closer to dejected. "They
have memories that go on forever and nothing spreads like gossip."
 He gave a snort of agreement and lapsed into a protracted
silence. "Just promise you won't take it with you," he said a moment
later. "Your brother's grown. You did your duty and raised him into a
good man. You were still a kid yourself. That's something to be
proud of."
He waited for her weak smile of acknowledgement. Tears were
stinging worse than ever, and she knew she wouldn't get through
this with dry eyes. Sure enough, a single tear slid down her cheek.
She brushed it away impatiently.
"Don't take the words of these idiots with you. You lost more
than your parents in that accident. You lost your free years of being
a young girl with nothing more to worry about than-" he hesitated
uncertainly and gave a small chuckle. "I don't know," he admitted.
"Hair and boys, I guess."
Lyric laughed with him through her tears, thankful for the small
bit of levity.
"Go reclaim your life," he continued. "Leave the past here and
never look back."
"I won't," she promised, and meant it.
"Good. Take care of yourself." He cleared his throat and gave
her a fatherly smile.
"Thank you," Lyric said, reaching out to grip his hand earnestly.
"For everything."
"It was my pleasure," he said.
Lyric gave him a final smile and a nod of thanks, then turned
and walked away.
It was surreal to hear the little bell chime above the door and
know she'd never hear it again. For five years she'd been listening to
the annoying sound so often, she sometimes heard it in her sleep.
Knowing this was the last time seemed discomforting, somehow.
Not that she was having second thoughts.
Since her younger brother, Sean, had gone off to college, there
was nothing left for her in the little town except bad memories and
rumors. God knew, she'd had enough of those. More than enough.
Besides, she couldn't shake the urgent feeling something was after
her and it was closing in. Fast.
 Sometimes, she could swear she was being watched.
Her doctors were convinced it was just the paranoia acting up,
but she was sure it was something else. For nearly two weeks, she'd
been on the edge of panic with no obvious cause. Changes in her
routine hadn't helped, and she wasn't going back to the hospital.
Never again.
Sean was gone. Her responsibility was fulfilled. If it was insanity
stalking her, she'd fought the good fight. It was time to see where
insanity would lead.
Her beat-up, dilapidated car waited for her, loaded down with
the few things she was taking for the trip. Everything else was in
storage. She made her way across the darkened parking lot,
listening absently to the crunch of gravel underfoot. The driver's
door gave a familiar, reluctant groan when she opened it.
She slid in, tossed her purse into the passenger seat, closed the
door with a squeaky-slam, and started the engine. The headlights
came on and cut through the darkness directly in front of her.
Something bright caught her attention and she stopped, staring
through the windshield.
In the grassy field behind the parking lot, several pairs of amber
eyes glittered in the darkness. She couldn't make out the shape of
who—or more likely what—they belonged to. The figures blended
too well in the night and her headlights weren't bright enough to
give her more than a vague shape.
But whatever they were, they were big.
For a long moment, she sat frozen like a rabbit in a snare. All
she could do was watch those eyes, her brain unable to process
what she was seeing into something that made sense. None of them
moved or seemed to blink. They just stared at her endlessly. After a
couple of tense heartbeats, she gave a small, nervous laugh and
shook her head slightly without taking her eyes from the ones
looking back.
It had to be something simple and silly.
A weird trick of light—ok, really weird—or maybe the small-town
locals messing with the crazy girl her last night in town; trying to get
a good show before she left. Hadn't she seen something on
Facebook where someone put big, scary eyes on an old tree and
frightened a bunch of people? It had to be something like that.
Surely her mind wasn't cracking up, once and for all.
The doctors warned her it might get worse at some point.
She swallowed the thought.
No, she told herself firmly, dragging her eyes away from the
scene and back to the inside of her car. Sitting around worrying
she'd lose her sanity was a surefire way to make herself go insane.
She was not a full-blown basket case. Someone was clearly trying to
play a prank. Cautiously sure of her reasoning, she pulled the car
into reverse and backed up a little more quickly than usual under the
flickering light of the single street lamp.
Without warning, something hit the passenger door with
enough force to rock the little car. Hard. She yelped in both fear and
surprise and stomped the brake, jerking to a sudden halt.
Her heart jumped into her throat. She scanned around
frantically, but her vision was limited to the small, illuminated space.
She squinted into the darkness but couldn't see anything. A sinking
feeling gathered in the pit of her stomach when she realized she
couldn't see the eyes in the field any longer.
With slightly unsteady hands, she pulled into drive.
A flash of movement in the rearview mirror caught her
attention. She turned to look but saw nothing through the back
window that didn't belong there. For a few seconds, she continued
to stare, trying to stay calm. There had to be a rational explanation,
she tried to convince herself.
She turned back toward the front of the car and found herself at
eye level with something huge and hairy. Glistening amber eyes set
into a massive dog-shaped face stared at her through the driver's
side window.
Her mouth opened in a high-pitched scream of sheer terror.
Without taking her gaze from the creature, she hit the gas and the
car lurched forward. Something heavy landed on the hood with a
crunch.
She looked up to find another one staring at her through the
windshield; impossibly long teeth bared. With a vicious snarl, it
threw itself against the glass. The windshield gave a horrifying crack
and spider-webbed. Lyric slammed the brake and sent it flying.
Suddenly, her car was being hit from every direction, rocking
wildly until it threatened to overturn. She didn't have a clue what
was happening and had no intention of sticking around to find out.
With a light thump, the gas pedal hit the floor. Her tires squealed in
protest as the car moved with far more speed than she'd known it
was capable of.
 Chapter Two

Lyric! cried the all-too-familiar voice in her head.

Her imaginary man.
Her psychosis.
What's happening? he demanded, sounding almost as panicked
as she felt.
On the advice of her psychiatrists, Lyric hadn't allowed herself
to acknowledge him for more than a year. They were convinced if
she didn't interact with the voice in her head, it would go away in
time. Doubt had crept in when months of stringently adhering to
their orders had failed to yield any result at all. Still, she'd stubbornly
stuck to their dictates in the hopes of reclaiming her sanity. It took a
great deal of energy and willpower and often left her tired and
irritated by her lack of ability to silence him. He was nothing if not
persistent. This time, however, she didn't even hesitate.
Dogs, she answered. Even in her own head, she sounded
breathless and scared. The biggest dogs you could imagine. A bunch
of them just attacked my car. You wouldn't believe the size of these
—Her words broke off when she noticed that, although she was
flying down the narrow town street fast enough to cause the scenery
to blur, the amber eyes were still beside her window, looking in.
Nothing separated her from the beast except the small pane of glass
in the driver's door. Her mouth opened in a silent scream.
Get out of there! the voice commanded, but she barely heard it.
Normally, she'd have a great retort for such a ridiculous order.
Something along the lines of 'No, I thought I'd stop and stargaze
awhile.' But just now, she was too scared to even process the words.
Her eyes were glued to the glowing amber ones beside her. Every
few seconds, sporadic streetlights washed over them and she could
make out the flash of glistening teeth.
I am going to die, she told the voice with a calm certainty, still
unable to tear her eyes away from teeth that looked nearly as long
as her forearm.
Like hell you are, was snarled in her head viciously, and she was
filled with impotent rage. You're in a car, right? Keep moving, he
went on without waiting for an answer. Find a church and wait for
me. I'm coming for you.
What? she asked confusedly. Why a church?
Because, he answered slowly, as if weighing the words carefully.
They aren't dogs. They're werewolves.
That didn't get a chance to sink in because the beast at the
passenger side slammed into the car with enough force to push her
speeding toward the edge of the road. She drove up and over the
curb with a loud thump. Another embarrassing squeak escaped her,
and she maneuvered the steering wheel wildly to bring the car back
under control.
A church, a church, her mind chanted. She needed to find a
church.
Then it hit her.
There was an old, abandoned chapel only a few blocks from her
current location. It was in a part of town that had given over to
industrial sites years ago and had since started to crumble and been
condemned, but it was still a church. With a plan—somewhat of a
plan, anyway—in mind, her nerves steadied a bit. She blocked
everything else out and focused her thoughts on getting there.
Even with the extra speed she managed to coax from the
engine, her pursuers kept pace, refusing to allow her to put any
distance between them. Which meant she wouldn't be able to park
and run to the property without being eaten alive. That left only one
alternative. She'd have to drive right up into the yard.
Oh well, she resigned herself. Nothing like front door service.
Drive through the front door if you need to, said the voice
impatiently. Just get onto consecrated ground.
 What do you think I'm trying to do? she snapped in return,
taking the final turn so fast her wheels let out a squeal loud enough
to wake the dead and threatened to leave the road.
Her haven loomed in the distance. Abandoned, dirty, and falling
apart. She'd never been so happy to see a derelict building in her
life. Where there had once been a welcoming porch for the
parishioners, now there was simply a big drop from the door to the
ground. The double front doors stood slightly ajar, with one hanging
crooked. Both side entrances were boarded up with plywood and
most of the windows were covered with wooden planks. It was the
sort of place people avoided like the plague and kids made up
stories of it being haunted to scare each other.
To Lyric, it looked like salvation itself. She'd happily take
theoretical ghosts over man-eating monsters any day.
Her wheels hit the curb without slowing down and basically
launched her onto the front of the property like a shotput. The car
let out an ominous crack and squeaking of shocks when it landed,
and the impact sent her flying forward. Her head hit the steering
wheel hard enough to steal her vision and stun her. For the briefest
of moments, everything went black. Then, with a gasping cough and
a wince, she slowly leaned back against her seat and waited for the
world to stop spinning. In the back of her mind, she thought it
would be just her luck for the church to be desecrated; a possibility
she'd failed to consider.
Don't even think like that, the voice said sharply. Don't put it
out there in the universe.
She ignored the words and held perfectly still, straining to hear
any sound. With a hard swallow and a deep breath, she turned her
head to look through the driver's side window. No glowing eyes or
giant, snarling teeth met her gaze. Only inky darkness. A quick
glance through each car window in turn found no hint of her
attackers. She closed her eyes and gave a deep sigh of relief.
They're gone, she told the voice. Her body started to shake with
the letdown from the adrenaline rush. She couldn't even
comprehend what had happened.
Werewolves?
 Maybe she really had cracked up completely, after all. It was the
only thing that made sense.
You're not crazy, and they're not gone, floated into her head. I
don't think I can make it to you before sunrise. There was a bite of
frustration in the tone. I'm sending a woman named Emily for you.
She's on her way. Werewolves can be out in the daylight, so don't
step off the church grounds until she gets there.
A small bubble of slightly hysterical laughter escaped her. An
imaginary man in her head was telling her she wasn’t crazy. Why
was she not convinced?
Wait, she said as his words sank in. What do you mean they're
not gone?
They can't be on consecrated ground, but I doubt they've gone
very far. Just don't leave that property until help arrives, he
answered.
What do they want with me? she asked. It seemed like a
reasonable enough question, considering she was likely to have
nightmares for the rest of her life.
Nothing good, he said after a pause. Some things are best
explained in person. Please know I never would have left you alone
if I'd known this was coming.
If you'd known what was coming? she demanded sharply, her
temper flaring as the situation seemed to make less and less sense.
Now that the emergency was over, she was beginning to
question herself. Was she really talking to someone in her head, or
was she as crazy as the doctors claimed? Admittedly, it was a little
on the abnormal side to be parked in the middle of a church yard,
convinced man-eating werewolves were waiting to rip a person to
bits, but she had seen them with her own eyes.
Hadn't she?
A war. We're at the beginning of a war, and you've landed right
in the middle. With me. Because of me, he corrected, and she could
have sworn she detected a touch of self-loathing.
She said nothing. She wasn't in the mood to soothe someone
else's guilty conscience. If there was a someone else. Aggravated by
her sudden uncertainty, she opened the car door just a crack,
listening. She didn't hear anything outside of the ordinary sounds of
night. Except—she held her breath and strained her ears. Something
was moving a short distance away. It didn't sound like it was getting
any closer, though. She closed the door quickly and turned backward
in her seat to peer through the rear window. In the dark, she could
just make out blurs of movement by the sidewalk.
So there really was something there. Unless she was trapped in
a delusion.
She gave an irritated sigh, turned back around and slid down in
the seat.
Her eyes caught and held on the broken windshield.
With nervous fingers, she gingerly touched the cool, cracked
glass to prove to herself she wasn't seeing things. It felt solid and
real, cracks and all.
"You can't hide there forever," a male voice called, breaking the
silence.
 Chapter Three

In a flash, Lyric was back on her knees looking through the rear
window of the car, trying to make out the speaker. Her eyes still
couldn't penetrate the blanket of darkness. She hesitated, unsure of
what to do. Her first instinct was to ignore him and hope he'd go
away. But somehow, she doubted that was a viable option.
Someone's talking to me, she informed her only source of
comfort.
Can you see who it is?
Of course not! she snapped, struggling—and failing—to remain
calm. It's pitch black out here. All I can see is a busted-down
building and a lot of shadows!
You're doing great. His encouraging tone did nothing to boost
her morale. Can you get them talking?
What? Why? She didn't feel like she was doing great. In fact,
she felt like she was about to have a full-blown panic attack at any
moment. Or suddenly wake up to find she was really on a street
corner, mumbling to herself like all the other crazy people.
Werewolves. Of all the ridiculous…she groaned. Only she could
come across a group of werewolves!
Information is power. We need to know as much about them as
possible, he said with enough calm to irritate her.
If you're real, I'm going to strangle you when I find you, she
informed him hotly. She glanced out at the surrounding darkness
and decided there was no way she was getting out of the car with a
whole group of werewolves waiting to eat her.
Forget it, she said flatly.
 "Come out, come out, wherever you are," the unseen man sang
mockingly.
She didn't respond.
"Are you connected to him right now?" It sounded more like a
taunt than a question. "I hope so. Tell him how scared you are.
Remind him you’re his. It was his responsibility to protect you." He
laughed. The sound was slightly shrill and made her cringe. "He
failed."
With a mental shake, Lyric reminded herself she was safe. Safe-
ish, anyway. After all, if they could get to her, they would have
already done so. Knowing he was just trying to scare her, however,
didn't make it any less effective.
What's happening? asked the voice that reminded her she
wasn't completely alone.
Lyric absently realized how ironic it was to have the same voice
she considered a curse become her only source of comfort. But this
night, she wasn't going to fight it. Who cared if he was real or not?
In her current situation, it didn't matter in the slightest. She let the
comfort of the familiar sound wash through her and offer a measure
of strength.
Cowering in the darkness wasn't an option, she decided. A
disembodied voice left too much room for the imagination to work.
She needed to see who was talking; to give her tormentor a face.
With a new determination, she squared her shoulders and quickly
pulled the car in a circle to see the speaker, careful not to let even
the edge of a tire leave the church grounds.
Her headlights spilled across the face of a man who looked to
be in his mid-twenties. His hair was dirty blonde and greasy,
plastered against his head in matted clumps that framed a thin
trickle of blood that ran down from his forehead. His eyes sparkled
with a frantic excitement, and his mouth was pulled back in a sneer.
His chest was bare, exposing a gaunt, fragile-looking frame. With
the background of darkness pressing around him, his pale skin stood
out like a candle. He wore what looked like cut-off sweatpants and
nothing else. Even his feet were bare. Four enormous wolves stood
around him; two on each side.
 Lyric swallowed hard, her eyes riveted to the beasts.
Werewolves, she reminded herself. One of them took a threatening
step forward and crouched down, as if about to pounce. Smoke rose
from the most forward paw and the wolf jerked it back with a
startled yelp.
The man in the center snarled something at it, then turned his
attention back to Lyric. "Come to us willingly and we won't hurt
you," he said.
"Yeah, right," Lyric muttered, feeling significantly braver now
that she'd seen for herself they really couldn't get to her.
A look of anger flashed across the man's face and gave her
pause.
There was no way he could have heard her. The car windows
were rolled up and the engine was running. It was impossible.
Wasn't it? She snorted aloud, taking in the werewolves she was
watching from the front lawn of an abandoned church. Possible and
impossible no longer held sway this night.
"Come to us, Lyric," the man said, his voice going strangely
gravelly. Far different than before. It almost sounded like a growl.
"You can't stay there forever. The longer you make us wait, the
worse it's going to be."
How does he know my name? she asked, hating the edge of
fear she couldn't quite hide.
It's my fault they know who you are. I'm not sure where to
begin explaining everything that's happened. There was a pause
before he went on. When I couldn't find you, I went to the rulers of
my world for answers. It's a long story. The short version is one of
them turned on us. He's probably the one who sent beasts after you
tonight. A group of us were dispatched to hunt him and his
followers, but they're hunting us right back.
What do you mean, when you couldn't find me?
"I'm getting impatient," the man in front of her said, his voice
back to mocking. "You don't want me to run out of patience."
Enough time lapsed she didn't think the voice was going to
answer. Do you remember what I told you the night we met? he
asked.
 Lyric's frustration mounted. What night we met? Who are you?
I'm Paoli, he answered, his voice now sounding as confused as
she felt.
Is it possible you have the wrong-um-number? she wanted to
know. I've never met anyone named Paoli. Yet it seemed familiar
when he said it. Like something in a dream that's too faded to bring
into focus.
The man in front of her growled in anger; a weird, animal sound
coming from his human throat. "Stop screwing around and come
here," he demanded. The werewolves around him paced at the edge
of the property, watching her with their creepy eyes.
We met after your accident, years ago, Paoli said slowly. You
were bleeding. I offered to help you, but warned you there was a
price.
Lyric's blood seemed to freeze in her veins. She didn't want to
think about the accident. Not with everything else going on around
her. In fact, she refused to think about it. Ever. The memory was too
painful. Her parents both died in that car accident; her life changed
forever.
I don't want to talk about that night, she said sharply, pushing
away the haze of memory trying to creep up on her. She needed to
stay focused on the monsters just feet away, not on things in the
past that couldn't be changed.
Lyric, you need to remember. Our relationship and your entire
future hinges on that night, he insisted, but she forced his voice
away and ignored him.
"I'm going to kill you slowly," the man outside was saying with
apparent relish. "If you don't come to us now, I'll make sure you
suffer. Maybe we'll eat you while you're still alive." He bared his
teeth threateningly.
Lyric swallowed hard at the thought. Those werewolves had big
enough teeth to do it, no doubt. But she wasn't going to sit quietly
and listen to his threats. If knowledge was power, it was time to gain
a bit. She rolled her window down just enough to comfortably speak
through it.
 "Since you know my name, it's only fair I know yours. I mean,
since you're going to kill me and all," she called with a passible
nonchalance. She was quite proud of how unconcerned her voice
sounded. Nothing like a little false bravado to straighten the spine.
The man squinted against the headlights and smirked. "Does
my name really matter?"
"It does to me. I should at least know the name of my killer,
don't you think?" she asked.
He gave a humorless laugh. "If it makes you feel better," he
shrugged. "My name is Derick. These," he waved his arm in a
gesture to encompass his furred companions, "are my hunting
party."
"Delightful," she grumbled under her breath. "Why are you
determined to kill me? There's a lot of other people you could," she
hesitated, then plunged ahead. "I don't know, eat?" She grimaced at
the sound of that.
Did werewolves actually eat people, or was he just trying to
scare her? She racked her brain trying to think of what she knew
about werewolves, other than they weren't supposed to exist. Her
knowledge was sadly lacking. Apart from what she saw in a couple
of old horror movies with bad special effects, she knew nothing else
about werewolves. According to her movies, they were supposed to
be half-wolf, half-human, and only change under a full moon.
Apparently, the movie director didn't have a lot of information, either.
"We didn't come hunting for meat," Derick called in a voice that
was hard and flat. "We came hunting for you."
Goose bumps formed on her arms and she gave a slight
shudder. "Then come here and get me," she dared, determined not
to let him know the effect his words had on her.
"You'll have to leave eventually," he returned angrily. "And we'll
be waiting when you do."
In response, she rolled her window up and made a show of
settling back in the seat for a long night. She folded her arms
stubbornly and met his eyes with an insolent stare. Aside from the
fact her backside was going numb, she could wait forever. It might
be a stalemate, but at least she was still breathing. For now.
 Chapter Four

Hours crept by at the speed of smell and Paoli remained silent. Lyric
couldn't remember ever living through a longer night. Her mind
raced with scenarios of the werewolves building a ramp to reach her,
or using a slingshot in a cartoonish plot to hurl themselves onto her
hood. Every sound gave her another rush of fear, and the weight of
too many hours awake—coupled with a glorious headache from her
contact with the steering wheel—started to drag at her. Eventually,
the darkness faded from black to indigo, shot with traces of
lavender.
She breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the dawn. It meant
one of two things. Either help would arrive and get her to a safe
place where she could sleep, or the light would destroy her delusion
and she'd check herself into a psych hospital.
They've arrived, Paoli said at last, breaking into her musing. I'm
sorry I can't be there myself, but sunrise has started. Trust them to
keep you safe and bring you to me.
Why does the sunrise matter? she wanted to know.
There was a pause, and she could have sworn she got the
impression of a long sigh. It matters because I'm a vampire,
remember? Sunrise isn't exactly my friend.
The words barely registered before she caught a hint of
movement on the sidewalk across the street. As if melting from the
depths of the shadows, three figures moved silently behind the
werewolves. One was a large man with dark hair; one was a slightly
shorter man with a broad build and a black-and-grey striped beanie
on his head; and the one in the middle was a woman with hair so
black it shone blue.
 Lyric rubbed her eyes briefly and shook her head to clear it,
then looked back. Yup, they were still there and advancing on her
tormentors. The werewolves didn't seem to realize they were no
longer alone until the newcomers were very close.
Derick suddenly stood stock-still, clearly on alert. He turned, and
the woman met him unceremoniously with a weapon that looked like
a long staff with a bladed end. A gentle swooshing sound rent the
air and Derick's head was severed from his body. The force sent it
bouncing forward like a grotesque ball until it rolled onto the church
grounds and ignited into flame.
Lyric was so shocked, she forgot how to breathe. A tiny squeak
escaped her as she watched the head, unable to tear her eyes away
from the flaming ball. Not even the sound of growling and singing
metal could pull her attention from the macabre sight that came to
rest mere feet away.
By the time she finally managed to look up, she'd missed the
rest of the battle. All four wolves lay dead, their heads apart from
their bodies. The three mysterious figures stood in a small huddle
amid the gore. They appeared to be having an entirely calm
discussion, as though nothing out of the ordinary was going on. The
dark-haired man said something and motioned toward the church,
and the other two nodded.
Having evidently come to an agreement, the three moved
around and began hefting the bodies onto the church grounds,
where, one by one, they burst into flame. A few minutes later—with
their grisly task completed—the trio stilled. As one, their attention
fell on Lyric.
She had to fight the urge to grin nervously and reach out to lock
the car door. Not that it would have helped much. Or at all.
They stood side by side in almost the exact place the
werewolves had been. None of them moved or spoke. They simply
stood there looking at her, as if waiting for her to do something. She
stared right back at them.
"I'm Emily," the small woman announced at last. Her voice was
soft and kind. "This is my mate, William," she said, indicating the
dark–haired man on her right. "And this is Empusa," she pointed to
the guy in the beanie, who was standing on her left. "Paoli sent us
to get you."
Lyric sat there, her mind spinning with everything that had
happened since she left the restaurant. Could it really have been just
a few short hours ago? Her gaze flicked briefly to the charring piles
of werewolf remains that lay strewn across the ground and she had
to fight back a wave of nausea.
"What do you want from me?" she asked the woman.
"You need to come with us. You've been marked by the
werewolves and they aren't going to stop. Paoli and our flock will
keep you safe," Emily said.
Empusa looked at Emily, then at Lyric. "She means our pack will
keep you safe," he said.
"But why me?" Lyric asked.
"You're Paoli's. That makes you one of us," Emily said.
Lyric stared at the three of them, considering her options. If she
was really being targeted by werewolves and this wasn't an isolated
event, she didn't stand a chance against them. If these people were
willing to help her, what choice did she have?
But Paoli said he was a vampire. If that was true—and she
didn't have any reason to doubt it, since she was surrounded by
roasting werewolves—it didn't bode well for her longevity, either. She
wasn't sure it was any better than taking her chances with the
werewolves.
What do you want from me? she asked Paoli.
I want to keep you safe. Come to me now. His voice was a
whisper in her mind. A caress.
She thought long and hard. Willingly heading to a vampire didn't
seem like a great decision, but waiting alone to be devoured by
werewolves was worse.
I'll come to you, she said slowly. Because I don't have a lot of
options right now. But if you kill me, I'll haunt you forever, she
promised darkly.
Agreed, he said, and there was clear amusement in his voice.
With a deep, resigned breath, she called, "All right, I'll go with
you. Now what?"
 "Now bring your car onto the road and we'll go," Emily
answered.
It dawned on Lyric none of them had touched the church
grounds. "You're not human, either, are you?" she asked hesitantly.
"No," Emily answered simply.
The single word hung heavy in the air.
"The sun is up, so I guess you can't be-" She broke off, unable
to bring herself to say 'vampires'. It just seemed too unbelievable.
"Are you werewolves, then?"
"We're," Emily hesitated and exchanged a look with William,
"complicated," she finished, and there was no mistaking the silent
laughter in her words, though Lyric didn't understand the humor.
"It's a long story, and this isn't the place to tell it. Please come here
and we can talk on the way."
"Are you going to kill me?" Lyric asked. Not that she expected
an honest answer if that was their plan. But she had to ask, anyway.
Emily's gasp of surprise was audible, even with the entire
church yard between them. "Of course not. We're trying to keep you
alive," she said. "You're more important to Paoli than you know, I
suspect. Especially if you think there's a chance he means you
harm."
Lyric didn't know if she liked the sound of that. She hated
feeling like everyone else knew something she didn't. It put her at a
serious disadvantage. After the night she just had, what she wanted
was answers. Enough with the spooky cloak-and-dagger crap.
Still not sure she was making the right decision, she pulled
forward, off the safety of the church property and onto the street.
No sooner had she shifted into park than her door opened. She
looked up at the dark-haired man now looming over her and
swallowed nervously.
A sense of danger seemed to radiate from him. Up close, he
looked even bigger. His eyes were steel gray and cold, without a
trace of life in them. There was no expression at all on his face; like
it was carved from solid stone. She'd never seen anyone look so
intimidating, and she was seized with the certainty she'd made a
deadly mistake.
 "I'll drive, since I know the way," he said brusquely.
Lyric nodded agreement and slid out from behind the wheel
without saying anything. She wasn't going to argue. Not with that
man.
Emily waited for her in the backseat. Lyric opened the door and
hesitated, her eyes on the weapon she'd seen behead Derick only
moments ago. It was lying across the floorboard—thankfully blood-
free—but still deadly-looking.
Emily followed her gaze and sighed a little regretfully. "Believe
me, I know what you're going through right now."
Lyric gave a slightly disbelieving sound and made no move to
get in the car.
"Well, not exactly," Emily conceded. "But I know how
overwhelming it is when your world suddenly gets a whole lot
bigger. All I can say is it gets easier once you wrap your head around
it all. Come on," she patted the seat beside her. "You're safe with
us."
Still full of reservations, but aware her choices were sadly
limited, Lyric climbed in. She closed the door with a soft thump and
watched as Empusa got into the passenger's seat. Without a word
spoken, they pulled away from the curb and set off into the dawn.
 Chapter Five

"I'm so sorry they found you before we arrived," Emily said once
they'd traveled a short distance. "We headed this way as soon as
Paoli could pinpoint your location. Lycaon has a longer reach than
we anticipated."
"Lycaon?" Lyric asked.
"The original werewolf," Emily clarified. "He was the king of the
immortal world until recently."
It struck Lyric how strange it seemed for someone to
offhandedly use words like 'king' and 'immortal'. But she supposed it
was a normal thing for this group. "I just can't believe this is
happening," she said quietly, her mind racing with the events of the
night. "What does any of this have to do with me?"
"Did Paoli explain our situation to you?" Emily asked, scooting
sideways to face her.
Everything Paoli had said ran through her head in a jumble. "He
mentioned a lot of stuff but didn't go into enough detail for it to
make much sense," she said.
"Then let's start at the beginning. What do you know?" Emily
asked.
Lyric thought back, trying to figure out where to start. "I know I
left work tonight and was nearly eaten alive by werewolves. The
voice in my head apparently belongs to a vampire, and there's a war
going on that I'm somehow involved with," Lyric said. "That's about
it."
Emily's face fell into a frown. "That's not a lot for you to go on.
How long have you known Paoli?"
 Lyric made an aggravated sound. "I don't know Paoli at all. A
few years ago, I was in a bad car accident. When I woke up, there
was this male voice in my head. Until now, I thought it was just a
manifestation of mental stress from the wreck. It never occurred to
me there was a real person connected to it."
Emily gaped at her. "What?"
Empusa began to crow with laughter. He turned in his seat to
face her, as well. "I'll give you a hundred dollars if you let me be
there when you tell him you forgot him."
"Shut up, you too," Emily snapped when William joined in
laughing. She slapped Empusa lightly on the shoulder. "This isn't
funny." But her own face was starting to crack into a reluctant smile.
"I'm sorry," she said to Lyric when she failed to stop her own grin.
"It really isn't funny."
"But she doesn't even remember him!" Empusa cried, still
laughing.
Lyric glared at him, not seeing the humor in the situation.
"I'm sorry," he gasped, trying to get himself back under control,
but only being about half-successful. "It's just that-"
"It just never occurred to us you wouldn't know Paoli," Emily cut
in with a warning look at Empusa.
But Empusa clearly missed the hint. "He connected his fate to a
woman who doesn’t even know who he is," he said as another gale
of humor overcame him. "It's too perfect." His voice climbed an
octave as he tried to talk and continue laughing at the same time.
"You'd better get yourself under control before Paoli rises
tonight," Emily advised him crossly. "Or he may decide that blood
bonds or no, a werewolf would make a lovely jacket."
"Excuse me," Lyric interrupted sharply. "What do you mean
'connected his fate'?"
Empusa's laughter died abruptly. He looked at her, then at
Emily.
"I think that may be a discussion you should have with Paoli,"
Emily said carefully, giving Empusa another look.
"To hell with that!" Lyric snapped, looking back and forth
between them. "Someone needs to start explaining all of this."
 Emily paused and gave her a considering look. Then she nodded
slightly and waved toward Empusa as if to say, 'go ahead, big
mouth'.
He grimaced and took a deep, resigned breath. "I'm not a
vampire, but I can explain the general idea," he said after an
uncomfortable silence. "You see, werewolves have mates, just like
timber wolves. Vampires don't have the same kind of mate bond, but
sometimes they claim a human as their own and forge a different
type of bond. Are you with me?"
Lyric gave an impatient shrug because he still wasn't making a
great deal of sense.
"The only way for it to happen is for the vampire to intervene
when the human was fated for death and alter Fate's plan for them."
Lyric thought about that. "So, you're saying the night of the
crash, Paoli did something to me and changed my fate?"
"Yes," Empusa said simply. "After that night, he should have
been able to find you at any point. But for some reason, he couldn't.
When he wasn't able to communicate with you, he went to the
Coven-"
"A witch's Coven?" Lyric interrupted. Lord, she didn't want to
hear witches were real, too.
"The Coven is the name for the immortal government," Emily
chimed in.
"Anyway, he went to the Coven heads and explained what he'd
done, but they weren't able to give him any answers, either,"
Empusa went on.
"Then how was he able to find me tonight?" Lyric asked.
"A lot's changed in our world recently," William said from the
front seat.
"The Coven used to have two rulers, or Coven heads," explained
Emily. "Lilith represented the vampires and Lycaon did the same for
the werewolves. Recently, Lycaon turned on Lilith and destroyed her,
then went through the castle demanding allegiance from the
werewolves." Emily paused, as if thinking back. "William brought a
group of werewolves and vampires together into a single flock-"
 Empusa made a sound of annoyance. "We are a pack, not a
flock, Emily," he said with exasperation.
Emily ignored him. "And Paoli was able to use the combined
power of the flock," she looked at Empusa pointedly, then back to
Lyric, "to track you."
"But right now, our government is without a ruler and Lycaon is
causing as much trouble as he can. He's honed-in on us, and by
your connection to Paoli, on you," Empusa said.
"Why's he after you guys?" Lyric asked, thinking it was strange
to target specific people if overall allegiance was the goal.
"Because in this car are the only two people who could bring
werewolves and vampires together into a single pack where they
could fall under one ruler. Which makes them invaluable to him,"
Empusa answered, nodding at William and Emily.
"We're special," Emily said dryly when Lyric just stared at her.
"Until now, there's never been a group of both species united by
blood."
"Our eventual goal is to gather as many people as possible for
our side and somehow bring Lycaon back to stand judgement before
the remaining committee," William spoke up again. "But first we
needed to manage Paoli's primary goal, which was finding you."
That 'somehow' didn't sound overly optimistic, which made Lyric
ask, "Can you guys do that? Bring this guy, Lycaon, in?"
"William and Paoli have been executing misbehaving immortals
for centuries," Empusa said in a light tone. "And now they have the
pack to help. It's going to take time, but we'll find a way."
Centuries? The word seemed to vibrate around inside her head.
Centuries. "How old are you guys?" she heard herself ask, as if her
mouth was no longer connected to her brain.
"Old by human standards," William said.
Emily opened her mouth and closed it again.
Lyric sat back in her seat, her mind reeling with information
overload. How was it possible there was this whole other reality
happening and people didn't even know about it? The idea was
simply incomprehensible. She looked through the window and
watched the world go past; saw the blissfully unaware people going
about their usual morning routine, confident and secure in their
knowledge of the world.
The rest of the trip was spent in thoughtful silence. Lyric may
have dozed a bit because it seemed a very short time later the lack
of car noise brought her more aware of her surroundings. She sat up
and looked around to see they were parked in front of a roadside
motel just off the highway. The doors opened as everyone got out of
the car, and Lyric followed suit.
Emily approached her with a room key. She took it with a slight
smile of thanks.
"I know it's a lot to take in," Emily said, walking her toward the
door of her room. "It really does get easier after the initial shock
wears off."
Lyric didn't say anything. She was too tired to think anymore.
"Will you be all right on your own today?" Emily asked when
they reached the faded red door.
Lyric managed a slightly jerky nod. "I just need some sleep, I
think."
Emily gave her a look full of understanding. "William and I are
right next door. Let me know if you need anything."
"Thank you," Lyric said, opening the door to her room. "I'm
hoping some time and sleep will do the trick."
"I'm sorry you got dragged into this the way you did. I really do
know how hard it is when the rug gets pulled out from under you."
She turned her head to watch William unlock the door beside them
and a slight smile touched the corners of her mouth. "But believe it
or not, you may find it's all worth it in the end." She gave Lyric a sly
smile and a wink and turned to follow William into their room.
 Chapter Six

Though she'd been awake more than a full day, Lyric's racing mind
wouldn't allow her settle enough to sleep. She paced the room while
she ran through endless questions. At one point, she walked to the
motel window and pulled back the blinds to peer out into the parking
lot, but something about the reflection on the glass brought the
werewolf's face to her mind and she pulled the curtains again
quickly, wondering if she'd ever get the image out of her head.
The question that most frequently repeated itself was: What in
the hell is happening?
She pulled her phone from her back pocket and stared at it long
and hard as she considered calling Sean. What would he say if she
called and told him her situation? She scoffed and put the phone
away. He'd say she needed to go back to the psych ward and might
even have authorities track her down to that end. No doubt he'd
think she'd finally gone off the deep end. All things considered, she
really couldn't blame him if he did.
Which gave her an unpleasant pause. How sure was she that
she hadn't? Granted, she'd never had delusions or hallucinations
before, but there was always a first time, right? Could she be sure
the stress of leaving her home hadn't caused her to finally lose her
grip altogether? It wasn't a pleasant thing to contemplate, but she
couldn't ignore the possibility; hell, maybe even probability that she
was just nuts. When considered objectively, which was more likely?
Was it more likely that a diagnosed schizophrenic was having a
delusional episode, or that vampires and werewolves were really
after her, of all people?
 The realization crashed over her and stole her strength. She was
truly insane, after all. Her knees gave way and she sank numbly
onto the bed, her face in her hands. How could this have happened?
It was as if her own brain had become her worst enemy.
You're not crazy, Paoli chided gently. Now, clear your mind and
sleep, so I can.
His voice was too hypnotic and soothing to ignore. She lay back
and closed her eyes, her mind blissfully blank.
She woke just as the sky was starting to burn with the beautiful
colors that signaled the approach of evening. It wasn't a slow,
languid wakening, but a sudden return of full consciousness and
near-panic. Dusk was coming.
She needed to get away.
If there was one thing sleep had brought, it was clarity. She
wasn't crazy and a war was starting between two groups of
monsters who both fed on humans. Which meant the worst place for
her to be was here; with one group of them who were hunting
another group. The werewolves only found her because Paoli had
told them about her. Doubtless he'd mentioned her location. Which
meant, as far as she was concerned, if she put distance between
herself and her starting point, she should be safe.
In one swift movement, she threw the blankets off and vaulted
from the bed. She went into the bathroom and splashed cold water
on her face, used her finger as a toothbrush, and dragged her hands
through flyaway brown curls in an attempt to flatten the mess
somewhat. She glanced in the mirror and started at her own
reflection.
She looked terrible. Her hair was a nest of snarls from tossing
and turning in her sleep. Her face was pale. Dark circles ringed
brown eyes that were pinched with exhaustion, and there was a
spectacular bruise where she'd hit her head.
She stared at herself for a second, then pulled a face and
shrugged.
So, she looked like a hobo.
It couldn't be helped and was the least of her worries. Orange
streaks were appearing outside, which meant the sun was setting
fast. If she wanted to leave without incident, it needed to be done
now.
It wasn't until she tried to open her car door that she
remembered William had driven last night. And he still had the keys.
Dawning horror creeped into her chest. There was no way for her to
leave unnoticed; to just disappear into the night like she'd planned.
She groaned and leaned her head against the car, pulling uselessly
at the door handle.
With a string of uttered curse words, she turned her face to
stare at the motel door to the room where her keys lay like the holy
treasure. Such a simple thing, keys. One of those everyday items a
person never notices unless it's gone. Her keyring had a pink plastic
bunny with eyes that popped out when she squeezed it. The thought
of a man like William carrying her girlie keys around almost made
her smile.
A heavy sigh that was more of a moan escaped her as she
dragged herself off the locked car and forced her feet to walk toward
the door. It loomed larger and larger in her field of vision while she
moved forward, feeling like she was headed to her own execution.
She paused in front of it for a final, resolved breath before giving a
quick, tentative rap that was answered quickly by Emily.
"Is everything all right?" she asked with a look of concern when
she saw Lyric's face.
"I need my car keys," Lyric said, trying not to feel like a traitor.
She wasn't doing anything wrong. She wasn't.
Emily gave her a concerned look. "All right," she said hesitantly,
turning away to disappear into the room before coming back a
moment later, keys in hand.
"Thank you." Lyric took the keys while carefully avoiding eye
contact.
"Are you going somewhere?" Emily asked, her voice tinged with
suspicion.
"I can't stay with you guys," Lyric said. "Thank you for helping
me last night, but I need to go." She tried to give Emily an
apologetic smile to soften the blow.
 Emily's eyes widened in alarm. "You can't leave Paoli," she said
earnestly.
"I'm sorry," Lyric said firmly, retreating a step. "But I don't owe
Paoli anything."
"She's right," Lyric heard William say just before he stepped
behind Emily and put his hands lightly on her shoulders. "This is
between the two of them."
"I'm sorry," Lyric mumbled again, turning away.
Dusk was in full-force now; the last of the daylight having been
leached out into a dull, dusky gray. If she hurried, she might be able
to get back to the highway before full blackness descended and
obliterated her ability to navigate unfamiliar territory.
The walk to her car seemed eerily quiet with her jangling keys
the only sound.
She unlocked the door and jerked it open with the familiar
reluctance it always had. Her elbow bumped something behind her,
knocking the keys from her hand. She spun around with a gasp to
find herself face to face with the most beautiful man she'd ever
seen. For an instant, she could only stare at him in stunned, silent
fascination.
His face was too perfect to be called handsome. It was
masculine, with wide features and perfectly-chiseled cheekbones,
but held an exotic sensuality no man had a right to claim. An
aristocratic nose was set above perfectly-formed lips, and long, dark
blond hair was pulled away from his face. But it was his eyes that
held her silent. They were ice blue and had haunted her dreams
more times than she could count. Just now, they sparkled with
humor. But in her dreams, they were filled with pain. Such soul-
wrenching pain as no one person could ever bear.
"I've been looking for you," his voice said, and it was as familiar
as his eyes.
Lyric shook her head unconsciously. "No," she breathed, moving
away in slow-motion. "This doesn't make any sense." The words
were thick, trying to come from a throat that was too tight.
Her mind was racing. She didn't know him. She couldn't know
him. Yet somehow, she did. Those eyes were almost as familiar as
her own.
Paoli watched the emotions play across her face with interest,
drinking in the sight, the scent, and reality of her. She was finally
here. After years of struggling fruitlessly to locate her, he'd found her
at last. Granted, her reaction to him wasn't exactly what he'd hoped
for, and it was clear the reunion he'd been anticipating—where she
ran into his arms with tears of joy—was not going to happen.
Well, there was one fantasy shot to hell. Still, she was here;
within reaching distance should he dare to try it. As much as his
arms ached to hold her, the look on her face was wary; even scared,
so he opted for a different tactic.
He'd almost forgotten the beauty of her delicate features; the
chocolate of her eyes, the pert little nose, high cheekbones, and
stubborn chin. She was exquisite. Everything he remembered and
more. Without a doubt, she was worth all the wait and work he'd put
in.
"Until last night, I had no idea you'd blocked our connection
out," he said, moving with her, but not trying to get any closer. His
hands were held at his sides; nonthreatening, but her fear and pulse
level skyrocketed anyway.
"What?" Lyric breathed, continuing to backpedal around the
trunk of the car and half-tripping over the wheel in her reverse
flight. "What is this?"
"I forgot how," he paused, searching for the right word,
"cautious the human mind can be when it comes to trauma. But you
need to remember the night of your accident because a lot
happened."
Lyric automatically shook her head. "I don't want to think about
it," she said, even as the memories began to swim to the forefront
of her mind.
Paoli's answering smile was gentle and compassionate. "You
can't understand what's happening now until you remember what
happened then. Until you face what had to be done to save you that
night."
Try as she might, she couldn't stop the broken pieces of
memory starting to fall into place; slowly at first, then faster, like a
carefully-constructed dam had broken. The crash, the night her
parents died. The evening had been cloudy; raining against the
windshield. She remembered the sound of the wipers slapping, her
mother's gentle laughter interrupted by the squeal of tires as her
father lost control and the car careened off the road, hitting an
embankment with a screeching, crunching noise.
Pain.
There had been so much pain. Her legs were damaged. Every
beat of her heart sprayed more blood from the huge, gaping
wounds. She'd used her arms to pull herself from the upside-down
wreckage of the family's car. Fragments of broken taillights had cut
into her palms when she struggled to drag herself through the
window.
Then he'd been there, reaching in to drag her clear. He'd
cradled her in his arms. At the time, she thought he was death,
coming to take her. His face had been contorted and terrifying, but
his eyes were full of suffering. She'd reached out to offer him what
comfort she could, despite her own impending doom. She
remembered him murmuring to her and forcing her mouth over a
bleeding wound in his own throat before she lost consciousness. And
his voice had been in her head ever since.
Her eyes widened in shock at the memory, then narrowed in
pure rage. "You," she hissed with such accusation and fury, his smile
vanished and he went very still.
 Chapter Seven

Five years she'd spent in hell. It was all because of him. He'd
happened upon her when she was absolutely helpless and done
something to be able to speak in her head, then spent the next half
a decade essentially haunting her! Because of him, she'd undergone
painful and humiliating medical tests, been poked and prodded with
needles, and looked at with fear and pity by everyone in the town
that had once been her home. Her name was whispered by gossips,
and what they didn't know for sure, they made up until she was
ashamed of everything about herself and racked with guilt for the
way people viewed her brother; the poor child trapped with only a
lunatic to raise him.
Now, the cause of her problems stood before her, looking
perfectly composed and handsome in a plain black tee shirt and
form-fitting jeans, apparently without a care in the world. It was too
much to be borne. He had no right to look comfortable and at ease;
not after the pain he'd caused her. Blind fury blotted her vision,
clouding out rational thought. She wanted to tear him, limb from
limb; to make him feel some small measure of the pain she'd
suffered as a result of his actions.
Two steps closed the distance between them. His face was
somber and slightly wary, but he held his ground at her approach.
Without giving a sign of warning, she launched herself at him
furiously, attacking with every ounce of strength she had. Years of
frustration and humiliation lent power to her blows. She swung
wildly, connecting with his entire torso in a barrage of rage-ruled
violence. She wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp.
 "Hey!" Paoli cried in surprise, raising his arms to protect himself
from her sudden onset of bloodlust. "What the hell?"
"You miserable son of a bitch! What did you do to me?" she
screeched, still pummeling away at his thick arms and chest, but
doing little more than stubbing her own toes and fingers. He was
hard and lean, and her blows seemed to have little effect on him,
which only served to feed her anger to the point she didn't have
enough control to stop herself. She swung for his face, determined
to feel his perfect nose break beneath her fist; already envisioning a
massive flow of blood from the damage she intended to do.
He dodged the blow easily and used her own momentum to
swing her around. With an arm about her waist, he hoisted her off
her feet and tucked her neatly under his arm as if she were nothing
more than a wayward child. The movement was so unexpected, she
just hung there starting dumbly at the ground for an instant, trying
to make sense of what had just happened.
Then, indignation joined her other emotions and she proceeded
to claw at the imprisoning band of the forearm tucked around her
ribs. When that didn't seem to have any effect, she kicked at his legs
with enough speed to look like she was riding a bicycle in mid-air.
Low-level snickering reached her ears and she halted, horror
dawning to push everything else away. Too late, she realized there
were witnesses to the spectacle she was making of herself. She
silently prayed it was just a passerby; someone she'd never have to
see again, although the dread in her chest told her otherwise. She
wriggled and maneuvered herself to peer around Paoli's arm, holding
her breath and hoping she was wrong.
Sure enough, all three people she'd met last night were
gathered around them in a loose circle. They'd been joined by
another dark-haired man she didn't recognize. He was the one
laughing aloud, though the others all wore suspicious smirks.
Heat crept across her cheeks.
"Shut up, Sekhmet," Paoli grumbled.
The man Lyric didn't recognize—apparently Sekhmet—raised his
hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I'm just watching the show," he said,
grinning unrepentantly. "I've never seen you work your magic with
the ladies."
"Put me down," Lyric hissed, squirming ineffectually. Her back
bumped against his leg when he turned slightly, ignoring her
demand.
"Lycaon either knows we're here, or he soon will," Paoli said to
someone she couldn't see from her position. "We need to start
toward Louisiana. Can everyone be ready to head out in the next
thirty minutes?"
There were some murmurs Lyric didn't catch while the group
discussed it among themselves.
"We'll be loaded and ready. How about the two of you?" William
said, and there was laughter in his tone that did nothing to alleviate
Lyric's feeling of embarrassment.
"Don't worry about us," Paoli said lightly. "I always provoke this
reaction in women."
He was a dead man, Lyric decided.
As soon as he released her, she was going to claw his face off. It
was the one thought she held onto while he toted her across the
parking lot and back to her room.
With a heavy, booted foot, he kicked the door closed behind
them and just stood there with her dangling like a rag doll.
"Put me down," she demanded, swinging her feet for emphasis.
"I'm concerned about my personal safety," he said—and damn
him—he sounded amused. "So, I think I'll hold onto you until you
calm down."
"Then we'll be here forever," she hissed. "Because the longer
this goes on, the angrier I'm getting."
To which he gave an exaggerated sigh. "If I put you down, are
we going to have a calm and reasonable conversation?" he wanted
to know.
"Yes," she snapped angrily.
"See, now why don't I believe you?" he asked in a voice of
mock-concern.
"If you put me down right now, I'll be calm. I can't make any
promises about two minutes from now," she threatened.
 "All right," he agreed hesitantly. "But if you resume your attack,
I warn you. I'm not above carrying you all the way to Louisiana if I
must."
A moment later, he let her slide down the thick column of his
well-muscled leg until her feet were back on the ground. She stood
up and found herself pressed against him, very aware of his arm still
at the small of her back. Her anger seemed to drain away to be
replaced by something far more concerning.
For a heartbeat that seemed to go on forever, she just stared at
him and he stared right back at her. He felt alarmingly familiar and
comfortable, which filled her with enough nervousness to break the
spell of the moment. With more effort than it should have taken, she
stepped back, out of his embrace.
He let her go with only the slightest reluctance and watched her
as she put considerable distance between them. When he spoke, his
voice was gentle and understanding. "I can't imagine what you're
going through right now," he said. He shifted his weight and leaned
on the doorframe casually, assuming a relaxed posture.
"No, you can't," Lyric agreed, turning away to sit at the small
table and give herself a minute to recover some of her lost dignity.
When she sat down to face him, she felt relatively in control of
herself again. Her eyes studied him without conscious thought,
taking in everything from his combat-style boots to the perfectly
molded jeans he wore. He was a big man; probably close to six feet.
His shoulders and chest were broad, leading into a flat stomach and
narrow hips. As she'd already learned, he was all hard muscle.
"I can't believe you're real," she admitted when he raised his
eyebrows in silent inquiry at her perusal. She glanced around and
gave a humorless laugh. "That any of this is real."
Paoli didn't move, but his expression became guarded. "I really
had no idea you didn't remember," he said. "The events of that night
altered both of our lives permanently. It never occurred to me you'd
block our connection."
Lyric stared at him. "Excuse me?" she said. "I spent the last five
years thinking I was insane because of that night. My entire life was
destroyed because of someone," she threw as much accusation as
possible into the word, "chatting away in my head. I had to leave my
hometown because people kept acting like I was Typhoid Mary or
something." Her anger was returning quickly and she was getting
louder with every word she spoke, but she didn't care. "That's what
the events of that night did to me. Please, tell me how it altered
your life."
"I should never have allowed you to remain on your own after
that night," he said bitterly.
Lyric almost choked. "Allowed me?" she demanded angrily.
"Yes, allowed you," he confirmed. "I did it against my better
judgement, and it was clearly the wrong choice. Once you were
bound to me, I should have kept you at my side, where you belong."
Lyric gaped at him. "Now you listen to me," she snarled. "No
one allows me to do anything. This is my life, and I make my own
choices. Only I decide where I belong."
Paoli opened his mouth to retort, but closed it again. They
glared at one another from across the room; Lyric's brown eyes
flashing anger while Paoli's blue ones were unfathomable.
"If you wanted to take me with you then, why didn't you?" Lyric
finally asked, breaking the stalemate.
"You're joking, right?" Paoli said.
When she gave a sarcastic little shake of her head, he groaned
aloud in aggravation and looked away in an obvious bid for patience.
His jaw was clenched and his hands were balled into fists. "Do you
remember anything of our conversation that night?" he asked
impatiently, facing her again.
"No," she said defensively, more in response to his tone than
anything else.
Stunned disbelief showed in every line of his body. He gave a
long sigh and briefly closed his eyes, either thinking hard or praying
for patience. "You need to stop fighting back those memories," he
said at last. "Our entire relationship was determined that night and
you need to know what happened in order to understand."
She raised her chin defiantly and met his gaze. "I don't want to
remember that night," she said stubbornly. "I lost my parents, my
life, everything in that crash. Hell, I almost died! The last thing I
want is to relive the worst moment of my entire life, thank you very
much. And I don't need to remember our relationship because I'm
not interested in having one with you."
 Chapter Eight

His nostrils flared. "Well, too bad," he growled. "Because you're

stuck with me, and you may as well get used to it."
Lyric gave an angry snort. "I don't know what it's like where
you're from, but around here, people are free to do whatever the
hell they want. Which means you don't get to decide I'm stuck with
you and I don't need to get used to a damned thing."
"I hate to break it to you, but our situation is a little different,"
he ground out between clenched teeth.
"How do you figure?" she returned hotly.
"If you'd stop blocking your memories, you'd already know the
answer to that," he said impatiently.
Lyric glowered at him but said nothing.
He pushed away from the wall and began to pace slowly,
moving with such grace she was grudgingly reminded of beautiful,
wild animals in cages. His energy seemed to fill the room, making
the atmosphere feel charged.
He blew out a breath and clapped his hands together. "Okay,"
he said in a voice that suggested he was starting the conversation
over. "What do you know about the Fates?"
She hesitated, thrown by the sudden change in subject. Then,
with the suspicion he was about to try claiming they were fated to
be together, she scoffed, "I don't believe in fate."
Instead of the return of temper she expected from him, he
grinned. It was a mischievous, boyish grin that lit up his entire face.
Her heart seemed to flip at the sight of it, which she didn't like at all.
"You're so modern," he said. "Let me guess, you don't want to
consider the possibility that someone else is in control of you, right?"
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
actions. If, however, he should neglect to do so, a judgment shall be
rendered by the court in favor of the plaintiff, without prejudice to the
rights of the minors to have the matter reviewed, when they shall
become of lawful age. If the party who made the claim should lose
his case when the minor has reached his majority, he shall be
compelled to restore to the minor, or to his relatives, or to any one
who may have a right to it, whatever property he obtained under the
judgment aforesaid, along with any income it may have produced,
and any profits which may have accrued from its possession; and he
shall be compelled to pay ten solidi in addition, because he has
prosecuted a claim which was not valid in law. Where a guardian
desires to defend any action brought against his ward in court he
shall have full authority to do so; but if the rights of the ward should
be affected, or his property impaired or lost through his neglect, the
guardian shall afterwards be compelled to make restitution.
THE GLORIOUS FLAVIUS RECESVINTUS, KING.
IV. Guardians shall have no Right to Exact from Wards in
their Charge any Instruments in Writing whatever.
As minors are unable to care for themselves or their property, it
has been wisely provided by the laws that they should be subjected
to the authority of guardians, and that their business should be
transacted for them for a stated number of years. For the reason,
however, that certain guardians, by means of either persuasion or
threats, defraud those whose interests it is their duty to carefully
protect, and compel them to enter into agreements that they will not
demand an accounting of their property, or exact bonds or other
written instruments from their wards, by means of which they seek to
prevent inquiry into their actions: therefore, that our solicitude for the
rights of such wards may the better appear in all matters where such
rights are involved, we hereby decree that the following law must be
strictly observed, to wit: that in the case of such wards, even when
they have passed the age of fourteen years, where the guardian or
guardians who had charge of their persons and property shall be
found to have caused the execution of any bond or written
instrument of any description, which enures to the benefit of said
guardians or any person designated by them, then such bond or
instrument shall be void, and of no force whatever in law.
When the time shall come that he who has been under
guardianship shall have the right to assume the management of his
own affairs, the guardian shall give a complete account of the care of
his ward’s property, in the presence of a priest or a judge, and shall
receive from his former ward a full discharge from all obligations; so
that, all restraint being removed, the said ward may come into full
possession of his property, and have the right to dispose of it at his
pleasure. But if it should happen that, while the guardianship is in
force, the ward should be attacked by a dangerous illness, and
should wish to dispose of his property by will, he can do so, provided
he has completed his tenth year, according to the provisions of a
former law.
If the guardian, while living or dying, should give any of the
property belonging to his ward to his own children, or to any persons
whomsoever, and no account of the same was made to the wards,
according to the terms of the inventory which was made at the time
the guardianship was accepted, and proof of this should be legally
established, those who received said property from the guardian
shall make full restitution to the wards. All wards shall have the
benefit of this legal remedy, except where, by the lapse of time, and
having passed the age of fifteen years, their rights shall be
extinguished by law.
 TITLE IV.—CONCERNING FOUNDLINGS.

I. Where Anyone Casts Away, or Abandons, a Freeborn Child, he shall

Serve as its Slave.
II. Where a Male or Female Slave shall be proved to have Cast Away a
Child, with, or without the Knowledge of his or her Master.
III. What Compensation for Support anyone shall Receive for the Bringing up
of a Child committed to his Care by its Parents.

I. Where Anyone Casts Away, or Abandons, a Freeborn

Child, he shall Serve as its Slave.
If anyone, induced by compassion, should rescue, and care for a
child, of either sex, who has been abandoned, and such child, after
having been brought up, should be acknowledged by its parents;
where the latter are freeborn persons, they shall either give a slave,
or the price of one, as compensation for the service performed. If
they should neglect to do this, compensation shall be made by order
of the judge of the district; and the parents who have been guilty of
such wickedness shall be condemned to perpetual exile. Where he
who casts away the child has not sufficient property to redeem it, he
shall serve as its slave; and he whom the pity of others has
preserved, shall enjoy complete freedom. It shall be lawful for the
judge both to prosecute and impose sentence for this crime
whenever committed.

II. Where any Male or Female Slave shall be Proved to have

Cast Away a Child, with or without the Knowledge of his or her
Master.
If a slave, of either sex, in order to defraud his or her master,
should expose and abandon their own child, without the knowledge
of said master, and anyone should bring it up, the latter shall be
entitled to receive the third part of its value; but, under such
circumstances, the master must swear or prove that he was ignorant
that his slave had abandoned the child. If, however, it should be
shown that the master was aware of the fact, the child shall become
the slave of him who reared it.
 III. What Compensation for Support anyone shall Receive for
the Bringing up of a Child committed to his Care by its Parents.
If anyone should accept from its parents a little child to be reared,
he shall receive as compensation one solidus every year, until the
child has reached the age of ten; but he shall be entitled to no further
compensation after it has completed its tenth year, because after
that time the services of the child should be sufficient to pay for its
support. And if he who seeks to take the child again should be
unwilling to pay this sum, it shall be held in slavery by him who
reared it.
TITLE V. CONCERNING SUCH PROPERTY AS IS VESTED BY THE LAWS OF
NATURE.

I. Concerning the Disinheriting of Children; and What Disposition Parents

should make of their Property.
II. What Part of her Dowry a Woman has a Right to Bequeath.
III. What Property Parents should Bestow upon their Children, at the Time of
their Marriage.
IV. Concerning Children Born of Different Parents; and What Distinctions
Parents may Make in the Disposition of their Estates.
V. Concerning such Property as Children may have Acquired during the
Lives of their Parents.

I. Concerning the Disinheriting of Children; and What

Disposition Parents should make of their Property.
As soon as we have ascertained that any unlawful acts have
been committed, it behooves us to prevent, by legal measures,
similar occurrences in the future. For many persons living reckless
lives, squander their property upon strangers, either on account of
riotous living, or through the unwise counsel of others, and, as a
result of this, leave their inoffensive children or grandchildren weak
and penniless; for those cannot be of any benefit whatever to the
community upon whom the duty of labor has not been enjoined by
the example and virtues of their parents. And, in order that, under
such circumstances, the rights of the community may not be
sacrificed, or children or grandchildren be deprived of the benefits of
that natural affection which should be bestowed upon them, the law,
by which a father or mother, or grandfather or grandmother, have the
right to give their property to a stranger, should they wish to do so, or
a woman to dispose of her dowry in any way that she pleases, is
hereby abrogated; and we decree that the following more equitable
law shall be observed by all, to wit: that neither parents nor
grandparents shall have the absolute right to dispose of all their
property, nor that children nor grandchildren shall, through an unjust
will, be deprived of the inheritance of their parents and grandparents;
therefore, any father or mother, grandfather or grandmother, who
wish to bestow any of their property upon their children or
grandchildren, must observe the following rule, viz: that in the
bestowal of said gifts upon their children or grandchildren they do not
exceed the third part of their property; nor shall it be lawful for them
to transfer any of their property to any stranger, unless they should
not have any legitimate children or grandchildren living.
The following, however, we decree shall be observed, as being in
accordance with the dictates of reason: that if the father or mother,
grandfather or grandmother, should decide to bequeath, by any
instrument in writing, any portion of the third part of their property, as
aforesaid, to their children or grandchildren, in compliance with the
laws governing inheritances, all such proceedings shall be forever
inviolable; and whatever bequest concerning said property may be
made, shall have full and uncontrovertible validity. Nor shall it be
lawful for the child or grandchild who has received any of the said
third part of the estate from their parents, to claim anything more,
unless they should prove to be entitled to it by some former bequest
of their parents or grandparents.
If those having children or grandchildren, should wish to bestow
anything upon the Church, or upon freedmen, or upon anyone else,
they shall have the right to dispose of the fifth part of what remains,
after the said third part has been reserved. The authority of such
persons to dispose of the said fifth part is indubitable; but, in such
cases, either the third part of the property which is to be bequeathed
to the children, or the fifth part which is to be otherwise disposed of,
as aforesaid, must be separated from the remaining property, and a
proper estimate made of the same. But whatever anyone has
received through the generosity of the king, shall, under no
circumstances, be included in the estimate of either the third or the
fifth parts of the estate aforesaid; for, according to another law,
whatever anyone has acquired through the royal bounty shall be
absolutely at his disposal.
It has been already provided that children and grandchildren
cannot be disinherited by their parents for any trifling offence. The
grandfather and grandmother, as well as the father and mother, shall
have the right to chastise and restrain their children and
grandchildren, as long as they remain members of the family. And if
a son or daughter, grandson or granddaughter, should attempt to
inflict any serious injury upon their parents or grandparents; that is to
say, if he or she should give any of them a blow with the fist; or a
kick; or strike them with a stone, or with a scourge, or with a whip; or
should insolently seize any of them by the foot, or by the hair, or
even by the hand; or be guilty of any shameless assault upon them;
or should publicly accuse them of crime; then, any child or
grandchild convicted of such an offence, shall receive fifty lashes
with the scourge, in the presence of the judge, and shall forfeit all
claim to the inheritance of its grandparents or parents, should the
latter so desire. But if, repenting of its conduct, it should implore the
pardon of those whom it has offended; and, through the love of its
parents, it should be again received into favor, and designated as an
heir; it shall not be deprived of its inheritance, or be accounted
infamous, on account of the punishment which it has received.
FLAVIUS CHINTASVINTUS, KING.
II. What Part of her Dowry a Woman has a Right to Bequeath.
For the reason that many women to whom the privilege was
granted of disposing of their dowries as they pleased, have been
found to have bestowed them upon persons with whom they were
living illegally, to the injury of their children or grandchildren;
therefore, we declare it to be both necessary and proper that those
for the rearing of whom the marriage was celebrated, should receive
some benefit from said property. In pursuance whereof we decree
that, if any woman has children or grandchildren, and should wish to
bestow a gift upon the Church, or upon freedmen, or upon any other
person or persons; she shall not have the right to dispose of more
than the fourth part of her dowry in this manner. Three fourths of it
shall be left, without question, to her children or grandchildren,
whether there be one, or many of them. On the other hand, a wife
shall have full power to dispose of her entire dowry, in any way she
pleases, when she leaves no legitimate children or grandchildren.
Nevertheless, it shall not be lawful for any woman who has married
two husbands, or more, to give the dowry she has received from one
husband, to the children or grandchildren of another; but the children
and grandchildren born in a certain line of descent shall, after the
death of their mother, have the entire dowry given by their father or
grandfather.
FLAVIUS CHINTASVINTUS, KING.
III. What Property Parents should Bestow upon their
Children, at the Time of their Marriage.
Wherever wrong is done by parents to the interests of their
children it must be remedied by law. Therefore, because the duplicity
of parents sometimes prompts them to deprive their children of what
they have given them at the time of their marriage, we hereby
declare such acts to be void; and decree that the following law shall
hereafter be observed forever, to wit: that if any property should be
transferred to any person, either by writing, or in the presence of
witnesses, at the time of his or her marriage, excepting such as is
usually given in the way of ornaments or clothes, as a marriage gift,
whether said property consists of slaves, lands, vineyards, buildings,
clothing, or jewels, presented by the parents to the children, either at
the time of the marriage, or after it, the said children shall have full
power to dispose of such property as they wish, with this exception:
that, after the death of their parents, the inheritance shall belong to
the children exclusive of what said parents have previously given to
them according to law, and an equal distribution of said inheritance
shall be made among the heirs; so that a son or daughter shall have
full power to dispose of what they received from their parents at the
time of their marriage, according to the provisions aforesaid.
After the death of the parents, an inventory shall be made, and
the property which was donated at the time of the marriage shall be
appraised, and the other heirs shall receive an equivalent in value to
the amount of said property; and all shall then share equally in the
remainder of the estate of the parents.
FLAVIUS CHINTASVINTUS, KING.
IV. Concerning Children Born of Different Parents; and What
Distinctions Parents may Make in the Disposition of their
Estates.
 If a man marries several wives, and has children by all of them,
and any of his sons or daughters should die intestate, his or her
brothers or sisters shall be entitled to the estate, provided the
decedent left neither children nor grandchildren; and said heirs shall
have a right to claim it after proving that they are descended from the
same father and mother. Where there are children by one father and
by different mothers, those only who are descended from the same
father have a right to an equal division of the property belonging to
him. With regard to those who are sprung from one mother and
different fathers, we prescribe the following regulations, to wit: that if
a woman should have children by different husbands, only those
brothers and sisters who are the children of the same father and
mother shall have a right to the inheritance, descending either in the
paternal or maternal line from such as have died intestate, or without
offspring or descendants. As it has been established by a former law
that the grandchildren shall not be deprived of the third part of the
estate of their grandparents, it shall be lawful for the grandsons and
granddaughters who have lost either of their parents, to share
equally with their paternal or maternal uncles in the estates of their
grandfathers and grandmothers; that provision only of said law
remaining valid, by which it was decreed that parents and
grandparents may bestow their property upon their children and
grandchildren, or may give away what they please to a stranger.[22]

V. Concerning such Property as Children may have Acquired

during the Lives of their Parents.
Any son who, while his father and mother are living, acquires any
property, either through the favor of the king, or through the
generosity of his patron, shall be entitled to absolute control of the
same, and shall have the right to sell, or give it away to any one he
chooses, as has already been provided by our laws; nor can his
father or mother claim any of said property while the son is living.
Where, on the other hand, a son obtains property, not through royal
generosity, but by his own labor, or during some public expedition;
should he be living with his father at the time, the latter shall be
entitled to the third part of said property, and the other two-thirds
shall belong to the son.
 BOOK V.
CONCERNING BUSINESS TRANSACTIONS.

TITLE I. ECCLESIASTICAL AFFAIRS.

I. Concerning Donations to the Church.

II. Concerning the Preservation and Restoration of Property Belonging to the
Church.
III. Concerning Sales and Gifts of Church Property.
IV. Concerning Church Property in Charge of Those Devoted to the Service
of the Church.
V. Concerning the Repairs of Churches, and Divers Other Matters.
VI. Concerning the Arbitrary Conduct of Bishops.
VII. Emancipated Slaves of the Church, who are still Bound to Render it
Service, shall not be Permitted to Marry Persons who are Freeborn.

THE GLORIOUS FLAVIUS RECESVINTUS, KING.

I. Concerning Donations to the Church.
If we are compelled to do justice to the merits of those who serve
us, how much greater reason is there that we should care for the
property set apart for the redemption of our souls and the worship of
God, and preserve it intact by the authority of the law. Wherefore, we
decree that all property which has been given, either by kings, or by
any other believers whomsoever, to houses devoted to Divine
worship, shall eternally and irrevocably belong to said churches.[23]

II. Concerning the Preservation and Restoration of Property

Belonging to the Church.
We are of the opinion that it vitally concerns the interests of our
kingdom, to provide by our laws that the temporal rights of the
church shall be protected. Therefore, we hereby decree, that, as
soon as a bishop has been consecrated, he shall straightway
proceed to make an inventory of the property of his church in the
presence of five freeborn witnesses; and to this inventory the said
witnesses shall affix their signatures. After the death of a bishop, and
as soon as his successor has been consecrated, the latter shall
require a second inventory of the church property to be made; and if
it should appear that said property had, in any way, been diminished,
then the heirs of said bishop, or those to whom his estate was
bequeathed by will, shall make up the deficiency. If a bishop should
sell any of the property of the church, his successor shall lay claim to
that property, along with all its rents and profits, and restore it to the
church, after having returned the price paid for it to the purchaser,
and no reproach shall attach to such proceedings. And we hereby
decree that this law shall be observed in every respect by priests
and deacons, as well as by bishops.
ANCIENT LAW.
III. Concerning Sales and Gifts of Church Property.
If a priest or bishop, or any other member of the clergy, should
sell or give away any of the property belonging to the church, without
the consent of the other ecclesiastics, we declare that such a
transaction shall not be valid, unless said sale or donation should
have been made in accordance with the holy canons.

IV. Concerning Church Property in Charge of Those Devoted

to the Service of the Church.
Where heirs of a bishop or of other ecclesiastics, who have
placed their sons in the service of the church, obtain lands or any
other property through the generosity of the clergy, and then return
to the laity, or abandon the service of the church whose lands or
other property they hold, they shall at once forfeit all such
possessions. And this provision must also be observed by all the
clergy holding ecclesiastical property, even though they have held it
for a long time; for the reason that the canons have so decreed. The
widows of priests or of other ecclesiastics, who have devoted their
sons to the service of the church, solely through gratitute to the
latter, shall not be deprived of any property possessed by the
fathers, which was originally derived from the church.[24]
FLAVIUS EGICA, KING.
 V. Concerning the Repairs of Churches, and Divers Other
Matters.
The different regulations established in former times by the Holy
Fathers concerning ecclesiastical affairs shall be still observed, so
far as they are consistent with the interests of the church. As
antiquity, which has been the cause of the destruction of many lofty
buildings, has not spared the houses of God; it is eminently proper
that such of the latter as are in danger of destruction should be
repaired. As a result of this necessity it has been made a source of
reproach to our organization, that the greed of certain priests has
caused their parishes to be oppressed by repeated forced
contributions; and that many churches have been impoverished
under pretence of repairs. Consequently it has been decreed and
confirmed by our Council that the third part of the ecclesiastical
revenues, which the ancient canons have set apart for that purpose,
shall be used for the repairs of churches, whenever required. And
when churches are to be repaired, it is better to learn this fact from
the worshippers themselves, and the repairs should then be made
under the personal care and direction of the bishop. For, although
according to the provisions of the ancient canons, every bishop has
the right to reserve for himself the third part of the revenues of his
diocese, if he should desire to do so; so, also, he had no right to
exact from the parish churches, by means of arbitrary proceedings,
the remaining two-thirds of the said revenues; nor was he at liberty
to give away any of such property to anyone by way of
compensation for services performed. We deem it necessary to
decree that a single priest shall never have charge of more than one
church at a time; nor hold any other office; nor by ecclesiastical
authority act as guardian; nor, in any way, have charge of the
property of wards; and any congregation which possesses ten
pieces of property is entitled to a priest, but such as have less than
ten shall be united with other churches. And if any bishop should
disregard this our regulation, and should hereafter venture to
disobey it, he shall expiate his offence by two months’
excommunication.[25]
THE GLORIOUS FLAVIUS WAMBA, KING.
 VI. Concerning the Arbitrary Conduct of Bishops.
God, the just Judge, who loves right eternally, does not wish that
justice should be subject to time, but rather that time should be
governed by the principles of equity. God himself is the
personification of justice, and to him should be given whatever is
bestowed by the faithful upon the church through motives of
devotion; for God, as mediator, accepts the vows of every true and
sincere worshipper. And vows should never be renounced which are
known to have proceeded from, and been confirmed by, a sense of
justice; and, therefore, he commits a fraud upon God who unjustly
takes from him his property. He also violates the rules of justice who
corruptly interferes with the vows of others. While, as has been said,
God is justice, what madness is it for anyone to remove from God’s
possession any property under the claim of prescription, alleging that
he has held it for thirty years? For many rash bishops, prompted by
avarice, are in the habit of bestowing upon their cathedral churches,
or upon various individuals, or paying out as wages for labor
performed, the donations that have been given to their dioceses by
the faithful, and, in this way, they not only break the vows of the
donors, but are also guilty of sacrilege, in that they thereby defraud
the Church of God; for it has been long established that to defraud
the church is sacrilege. And when they are urged to make restitution,
they decline to do so, because their predecessors acted in the same
manner; or refuse to make amends, because they claim to have held
the property in question for thirty years. Thus they attempt to
maintain their cupidity and rapacity by right of prescription; and
instead of at once making reparation for their fault, they attempt to
confirm and legalize it by the operation of time. He must be
considered a person of great impiety who asserts such a claim, and
acknowledges that, for thirty years, he has done injury to God, and
refuses to make amends for the injury after that period has elapsed.
Therefore, since these most iniquitous abuses are defended
under a pretence of justice, and as we are not concerned with the
past, but with the future, we shall now proceed to make regulations
applicable to the time of our own reign. For the reason that,
hereafter, all temptation to avarice may be removed, we hereby
decree that it shall not be lawful for a bishop to appropriate any
property belonging to the churches of his diocese; or, if any has
already been appropriated, to allege that he is entitled to the same
on account of his possession for thirty years; but, whenever the facts
have been established, he must make restitution at once. As, in
order that a long period may pass without a claim being made, the
nobility sometimes are guilty of such oppression of ministers of the
church that the latter do not dare to assert their rights against such
eminent persons, concerning property which has been appropriated
by the latter, and lest the voice of the despoiled church remain
forever silent, we decree that hereafter, it shall be lawful, where this
offence has been admitted by the parties or detected by anyone, in
any place, that the claim shall be instituted with all possible speed in
the following manner, to wit: that the heirs of the founders of the
church shall act as prosecutors, if they are present; but, if they
should not be present, and even if they should be, but are unwilling
to act, then the governor of the province, or the governor of the city,
or the deputy of either of them, or anyone else who has legal
cognizance of the matter, shall have the right to act as accuser and
prosecutor.
Where any bishops who, in past times, have committed the
offences hereinbefore mentioned, and have been in adverse
possession of church property for thirty years, and declare that they
hold said property by the right of prescription; such persons we leave
to the justice of God, for we decline to pass judgment upon them.
But whoever, up to the time when this law is promulgated, shall not
have had possession of such property for the space of thirty years,
shall be compelled to restore it intact to the church, but no penalty
shall be required of them. And where any bishop, who from the day
of the adoption of this law, should appropriate anything given by the
faithful to the churches of God, and should use such property for his
own benefit, or for that of his cathedral church, or should bestow any
of it upon any person whomsoever, his act shall not be confirmed by
any lapse of time; and, according to the above-mentioned decree,
whenever he shall have been convicted of the commission of such
acts by anybody, he shall be compelled to restore the property which
he took, along with lawful amends out of his own possessions, to
that church which has been defrauded. If he should not have the
means to make full restitution out of his own property, on account of
his abuse of authority, he shall undergo the penalty of
excommunication prescribed by the canon of the eleventh Council of
Toledo; that is to say, if the property that was appropriated was worth
ten solidi, he shall purge himself of guilt by twenty days of penance.
If the value of the property appropriated should be greater or less,
the proportion of days to be passed in penance shall always be
doubled; and he also shall undergo a similar penalty who retains
possession of any property taken from a diocesan church, which has
been appropriated by his predecessor.
Any judge who neglects to carry out the provisions of this law, or
delays the proceedings without just cause, or does not notify the king
that he may take cognizance of the affair, shall be liable to the same
penalty as the bishop who committed the offence, and shall pay said
penalty out of his own property to the church whose cause he
neglected to decide. This law not only applies to property which has
been bestowed upon minor and diocesan churches, but to that in
which all assemblies included under the general name of churches
are concerned; that is to say, monasteries and convents of men and
women.
We also think it proper to add the following provisions to this law:
that all bishops who ordain priests and rectors in the churches of
their dioceses shall give them instructions concerning the rights of
the churches to which they are ordained; that is to say, if any bishop
should have in his keeping any document defining the rights of any
church in his diocese, he shall show it to the rector of that church, so
that the latter may be familiar with the rights of said church, as well
as with the documents conferring the same, and not be ordained in
ignorance of them, and, what is worse, through the wickedness and
duplicity of the bishop, the will of the benefactor of the church be not
publicly known. It is also decreed that priests and rectors shall not
only have the opportunity to inspect such documents, but shall also
be entitled to copies of the same, confirmed under the hand of the
bishop, to enable them to direct the affairs of the church committed
to their care without any uncertainty, and to enforce the rights to
which it is justly entitled. Given and confirmed in the name of God, at
Toledo, on the tenth day of the Kalends of January, in the fourth year
of our reign.
THE GLORIOUS FLAVIUS WAMBA, KING.
VII. Emancipated Slaves of the Church, who are still Bound
to Render it Service, shall not be Permitted to Marry Persons
who are Freeborn.
Great confusion of lineage results where inequality of rank
causes degradation of offspring; for what is derived from the root is
inevitably found in the fruit of anything. For how indeed can he bear
a title of honor, whose parents are bound by the obligation of
servitude? We refer to this matter because many of the slaves of the
church are set free, but nevertheless do not enjoy absolute liberty;
for the reason that they are still bound to serve the church from
which they deduce their origin; and who, contrary to natural laws,
contract marriages with freeborn women, and seek to have freeborn
children who, in fact, are not so; and thus what ought to enure to the
public good, becomes in fact a burden to it, both in respect to person
and property; as whatever children are born from such an infamous
marriage, following the position inferior in rank, from birth become
the property of the church, along with all their possessions.
Wherefore, that such insolent conduct may be put an end to
hereafter, we decree by this law, that if a slave of any church, while it
is still entitled to his services, should be freed, and accept his liberty
from the priest, he shall not be permitted to marry a freeborn woman.
Those, however, who have been freed in the regular manner, and
are absolutely exempt from all service to the church by the Canon
Law, shall have the right to marry freeborn women, and shall be
entitled to claim all honor and respectability for their offspring.
But if any of those set free, who are still under the dominion of
the church, should venture hereafter to marry any freewoman; as
soon as the judge shall be apprised of the fact, both parties shall be
scourged three times, as has been provided in a former law
concerning freemen and slaves, and the judge shall cause them to
be immediately separated; and where they are unwilling to be
separated, each shall remain in the condition in which he or she was
previously, and any children born of them shall become slaves to the
king.
Whatever property has been bestowed by any free person upon
any freedman, together with such property as a child of either sex
sprung from them can acquire, possess, or waste, shall belong
entirely to the heirs of said free person at his death; and, if such
heirs should be lacking, it shall become the lawful possession of the
king, to be disposed of absolutely at his pleasure. This law shall not
only apply to men, but also to women; that is to say, where either a
freedman or a freedwoman owing services to the church should be
so bold as to marry a freeborn person.
The following exception shall be observed in the execution of this
law, to wit: whoever shall be born of such parents within thirty years
of its promulgation, shall not follow the condition of that parent who is
bound to give service to the church, but shall be free, along with all
the property inherited from his or her parents, both noble and
plebeian. Given and confirmed at Toledo, on the twelfth Kalends of
January and the fourth year of our reign.
 TITLE II. CONCERNING DONATIONS IN GENERAL.

I. A Donation Extorted by Violence is Void.

II. Concerning Royal Donations.
III. Concerning Property Given to a Husband or a Wife by the King.
IV. Concerning Property, in Addition to the Dowry, Given to a Wife by her
Husband.
V. Concerning Property Given to a Husband by his Wife; and Where a Wife
has been Convicted of Adultery.
VI. Concerning Property Donated Verbally, or Conveyed by Instruments in
Writing.
VII. Concerning Gifts Bestowed upon One Another by Husband and Wife.

ANCIENT LAW.
I. A Donation Extorted by Violence is Void.
A gift extorted by force and fear has no validity whatever.

II. Concerning Royal Donations.

Donations conferred by royalty upon any person whomsoever,
shall belong absolutely to him to whom they are given; so that he
who is thus honored by the royal munificence shall have the power
to dispose of any property derived from such a source in any way
that he chooses. If he who received such gifts should die intestate,
the donations aforesaid shall belong to the legal heirs in regular
succession, according to law, and the royal favor can in no way be
infringed upon; because it is not fitting that the will of the prince
should be interfered with, where the recipient of royal bounty has not
been guilty of crime.

III. Concerning Property Given to a Husband or a Wife by the

King.
We especially decree that a wife shall be entitled to no part of
any property presented by the king to her husband, unless the latter
should bestow a portion of it upon her by way of dowry. And,
likewise, should the gift be made to a wife, her husband shall have
no right to any of it; nor can he lay claim to it after her death, unless
his wife should give or bequeath it to him.
 ANCIENT LAW.
IV. Concerning Property, in Addition to the Dowry, given to a
Wife by her Husband.
If a wife should, at any time, in addition to her dowry, accept from
her husband property acquired by him as a gift, or by profligate
conduct, or the proceeds of claims collected by him, she shall have
the absolute disposal of said property until the day of her death,
according to the terms of the will of her husband, even though there
be children born of that marriage. She shall have the power to
expend or use the income of such property, just as the testator has
designated by will; and, during her lifetime, she shall enjoy
unhampered possession of all such property, the income of which
shall be used for her expenses. But if the testator should not make
any special disposition of said income, his children shall have the
right to said property after his death; and, upon no occasion, shall his
wife be allowed to alienate any part of it, excepting the income.
Where there are no children by said marriage, the wife shall have full
control of all property given her by her husband, according to the
terms of his will. But if she should die intestate, the said property
shall revert to her husband if he is living, and if he should not be
living, it shall belong to his heirs. And we decree that the same rule
shall apply to husbands who, at any time, have received gifts of
property from their wives.
ANCIENT LAW.
V. Concerning Property given to a Husband by his Wife; and
Where a Wife has been Convicted of Adultery.
If a husband should give any property to his wife, and she, after
his death, should remain chaste, or should marry another husband,
she shall have the power of disposing of the property given her by
her first husband according to the terms of his will, if she should
have no children. If she should die intestate and without children, the
property shall revert to her husband if he is living, and if not, it shall
belong to his heirs. But if she should have been convicted of
adultery, or other meretricious conduct, she shall lose any property