by J. R. Ward
Sacrifices were to be made. Had to be.
For some reason, he thought of the night he had spent sitting outside of Sissy's room like a dog.
That was the closest he was ever going to be to her.
And that hurt more than anything else.
Shutting himself in his room, he went over and got in his bed. The lights were off, and even though the daylight was coming soon, the room was dark because of the velvet drapes that were thick enough to keep a vampire safe from even July sunlight.
Within hours the cycle of the war would start again, another soul ready to be conquered or lost. And assuming the Maker didn't come and recruit him into Nigel's vacated seat at the tea table, Jim was now down one, the momentum of the war having shifted dramatically in the opposite direction.
Somehow, by some miracle, he needed to find the strength to fight again, at least until he learned whether Devina had spoken the truth ... or had lied as usual.
He had no idea where the focus and drive were going to come from.
His tank was truly empty.
So maybe Devina was, for once, right. For the first time in his life, he saw the value of quitting. He sure as shit wasn't doing anyone any good with the way things stood now.
Closing his eyes, he let his body take over, the need for sleep canceling everything out, erasing even the fact that Sissy was pissed off down the hall, and Adrian was somewhere in the house no doubt aching from the sacrifices he himself had made, and Eddie was still lying in state, smelling as beautiful as a spring meadow.
He was a blank slate as he was claimed by a black void, his last conscious thought that he knew why Nigel had done what he had.
And he didn't blame the archangel one bit.
Chapter
Fifty-eight
"Okay, I think that's all I need."
As Detective de la Cruz, the one Cait had met outside the Palace Theatre, closed his little booklet, Cait winced and went to rub her eyes.
"Ow." Yeah, not touching much of her puss would be a good idea. If she remembered correctly, she had a dozen stitches in it.
"Can I get the nurse for you?" the man asked, concern on his tired face.
"No, I'm fine." She pulled the white hospital sheets up higher on herself. "Just have to remember not to..."
Make any contact with anything on her body, whatsoever.
He gently touched her shoulder, being careful not to get in the way of her IV. "I'm going to put in my report that it was justifiable homicide, Ms. Douglass. I don't think this incident is going to go to a grand jury, I really don't. The D.A. and I have worked together for a long time and there's a lot of trust between us. If you hadn't killed him, he'd have finished the attack on you. Guaranteed."
"Thank you, Detective. I've never ... I never thought something like this would happen to me."
"You survived. And you're going to get through this. It's going to take time, but ... you'll come out of it."
She could feel tears coming again, but God, she'd cried enough for ten years. "Thanks."
"Call me if there's anything I can do for you, okay? And I'll e-mail you a list of counselors that have experience with this stuff. They can really help on the flipside. Trust me."
He smiled at her, and then walked out, shutting the door quietly behind himself. Turning her head to the window across her private room, she stared at the gathering sun, and listened to the beeping behind her, and the hushed voices at the nursing station outside, and the bustle in the hall of people coming and going.
She hurt all over, her body aching in places she hadn't even known she had. And she wished, more than anything, that she had someone to call, somebody who could come and tell her, even though she wouldn't have believed it, that everything was going to be all right.
She'd decided not to get in touch with her parents. Not yet. Even if they were in the country, she wouldn't have wanted them to come rushing east with their manic prayers and Bible verses. She wasn't as angry with them as she'd always been, but she wasn't up to all that, either. And she couldn't call Teresa. God, no ... she'd shot the woman's favorite singer dead, for godsakes.
Then again, knowing her old roommate? The fact that G.B. had turned out to be a homicidal maniac was going to change her opinion pretty damn fast.
For all Cait knew, she was going to be hero in the woman's eyes when they saw each other next: Teresa liked Dirty Harry movies even more than she liked heavy metal from the Reagan decade--
Some kind of shouting lit off out in the hall, and suddenly, all the normally quiet sounds went total-chaos, people yelling, running, the focus getting louder and louder as if a hurricane were closing in on her room--
Her door opened, some big shape pushing it wide.
"Duke!" She sat up so fast, her stomach nearly revolted from the pain. "Oh, my God! Duke, what are you--"
"Sir, I have to ask you to go back to your--"
"You were just operated on, sir, you need to--"
"Mr. Phillips! Please at least sit down--"
In spite of the fact that he was white as a ghost and weaving like a drunk and surrounded by hysterical medical staff, Duke ignored the drama, shuffling in with his hospital johnny and his compression stockings, leaning on his IV pole for support.
"Hi," he said in a hoarse voice.
Cait burst into tears and broke out laughing at the same time, a total emotional overload taking her in both directions until all she could do was reach out to him.
"There room for two up on that thing?" he said with a grunt, still ignoring the swarm of people in scrubs and name tags.
"For you, yes." She wiped her face but didn't get far clearing her eyesight. And she continued to laugh and cry as she pushed herself over.
It was a hard thing to watch, him stretching out. Clearly he was in tremendous pain, his body moving like an old man's, his coloring becoming worse--if that was possible.
But then he shoved away the hands that grabbed for him. "What. You wanted me to sit down, I did you one better. Now, leave me the hell alone."
Well, looked like her bouncer was prepared to start swinging if he had to--and no one needed that, did they.
"Give us a minute," she said to everyone. "He'll leave as soon as we get a chance to talk, okay? I promise. Please."
Lot of grumbling. Some threats to call various doctors as well as security if Mr. Phillips wasn't in his own room in another five minutes. But they did leave.
When the door eased shut, she touched his face, reassuring herself that he was real. "I thought I'd lost you."
"I'm too stubborn to die like that."
"I'm so glad ... to see you."
Even though his hand was shaking, probably because he had all the blood pressure of a deflated balloon, he brought her in for a kiss.
His lips were still soft. And his eyes were still blue. And his skin was still warm.
"I thought I was going to lose me, too," he admitted.
"It killed me to leave you. But I had to get the phone."
"You saved my life."
Her brows went down. "Oh, I don't know--"
He silenced her by putting his forefinger up on her mouth. "You did."
"Does that mean you owe me some huge debt?"
"Yeah."
"Good." She had to smile, even though the gash on her cheek stung. "Will you take me on another date. When my face is back to normal?"
"You're as beautiful as ever. To me ... you'll always be beautiful." As he kissed her again, she believed him. Completely. "And I will take you on that date."
Laying his head down next to hers, he stared at her for the longest time. "You gave me my freedom, too."
So funny. She had wanted to get out there and live ... talk about being careful of what you wished for. And yet she couldn't think of anything better than having this man next to her. The detective was right: It was going to take a long, long time to get over something like this, and there was a good possibility she was never going to be the same.
&
nbsp; But she had Duke. And the sense that neither of them was going anywhere else for the rest of their days ... and nights.
For some reason, she thought of the janitor in that church. Thank God she had listened to him and heard Duke out, letting him talk. "I want you to know something."
"What?" he said.
"I really feel like this was supposed to happen. This whole ... crazy thing. I just ... you know, it was all supposed to go down exactly as it did."
"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing." He smiled even as his eyes fluttered shut. And then in a sleepy voice, like his body had been unwilling to rest until it was beside hers again, he said, "Love you ... Cait Douglass. Love you with all my heart."
Cait stroked his hair, and imagined him drifting off...
"I think I want to go back to college," he said suddenly, even though his eyes were still closed and she could have sworn he'd fallen asleep. "I want to finish. Maybe apply to medical school. Think it's time to be respectable."
"We could drive to Union together if our classes match up."
He smiled again. "It's another date."
Long road to recovery, she thought as she continued to stroke him. But yup, she had the unequivocal sense that they were going to do it together ... that they were going to do a lot of things together.
Abruptly, she pictured herself behind the wheel of her car, squinting into the darkness, lost and trying to find her destination.
Where am I ... where am I ...
Shutting her own eyes, she snuggled into Duke and knew she'd finally gotten where she'd wanted to be. With him, she was home.
Forever more.
Temptation at your fingertips
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