She couldn’t help it. Memories flashed through her head, whizzing by in a reel— the night he saved her, the kisses they’d shared, the moments they’d fought side by side. Her brain settled briefly on the time he’d whispered in her ear as she’d been blindfolded. It had been one of the sexiest moments of her life. The subtle background noise he’d asked her to focus on – the drip of the faucet, the distant whir of construction, had only heightened the deep melodious quality of his voice as it broke the otherwise near silence.
The answer crashed into her like a car smashing into a wall at full speed. The construction noises. The site couldn’t be more than two blocks away and the equipment was almost certainly still there. Construction crews never bothered to take the keys out of the ignition on the equipment; her father had told her that once.
She started sprinting towards her target before she could completely collect her thoughts. She didn’t know how to drive the equipment, per say, but how hard could it be? She only needed to get one piece of equipment a few blocks. She was sure she could figure it out. Caleb needed her to. His life depended on it, and she would come through for him.
Winded from her all-out dash, she was relieved when the construction site loomed ahead of her. Surveying the equipment, she decided quickly upon the little skid steer as it seemed to be the most manageable piece of machinery.
She swung herself inside and sighed with relief upon spotting the keys in the ignition. She fired up the engine. There were joysticks on either side of her. She tried pushing forward on the right one first, but nothing happened. She pulled back on it, but it only began to raise the boom. The left stick did the trick, and with little effort, she was on her way. The damn thing didn’t move nearly as fast as she would like, but she was thankful that it was easy to operate.
As she reached Caleb, she tried not to let the sight of the flame-demon pummeling him distract her. He was barely staying upright; the force of the demon’s blazing grasp on each shoulder was pushing him down onto the pavement.
She braced herself as she crashed the skid steer into the nearest fire hydrant. Despite being prepared, Grace’s body jerked forward with the impact and then flew back. Her head had collided with the front window panel, sending a burst of stars into her vision. But she heard the water gushing up from where the fire hydrant had been. Success.
Relief flooded her as her sight returned. The demon’s glow had fizzled out, and Caleb was shoving it against the jet stream of water pulsating out of the broken hydrant. With a quick jerk of its head, Caleb finally managed to defeat it. She sagged with relief when he turned and grinned at her.
“Thanks,” he said, taking a step toward her. What would have been her witty reply was lost on a sudden scream. Caleb had collapsed to the pavement.
Chapter 12
Grace rushed to Caleb’s side; adrenaline surged through her body. She held his head between her hands and yelled his name. No response. His chest was rising and falling, so at least he was alive, but for how long? How badly injured was he? His clothes were shredded, and much of the revealed skin was burnt red or black. She couldn’t imagine how much internal damage he’d sustained from the impact of the blows themselves.
Fingers fumbling, Grace took out her cellphone to dial 911, but struggled to keep her thumb still enough to unlock it.
“They will not be of aid to him,” came a tired but familiar voice from behind her.
She turned her head up. Gav walking toward her. He was much better off than Caleb, although he did have a few pinkish blotches where his skin was exposed.
“Why not? What do we do?” she asked, not leaving Caleb’s side.
“Conventional medicine will not advance the healing of demonic injury. He will heal with time; do not be afraid.”
“Well, we need to at least get him out of here. Will you help me get him back to my apartment? It’s close.”
“Grace, the demons know the location of your apartment. It is compromised. We will need to move him to a more secure location. I believe that he would grant permission for us to take him to his apartment. I shall escort you there.”
Without further discussion Gav lifted Caleb from under the arms, ducked his own shoulder under, and hoisted Caleb up to lay around his neck and across both shoulders. It seemed so well practiced. How many times Gav had had to carry others to safety before? She didn’t ask. Instead, she strode along silently next to him, doing her best to keep up with his brisk pace.
Twenty minutes later, Gav was tossing the keys to Caleb’s apartment at Grace and she quickly opened the door. A gorgeous bay window that overlooked Griggs Park immediately caught her eye. In front of it sat a king size bed, pristinely made, as if it had been set for a magazine and never slept in. The dark charcoal comforter was folded over at the top, revealing a fossil grey underside, complete with matching charcoal sheets and pillows.
She gently pulled the sheets back so that Gav could lay Caleb down on the bed. Although Gav clearly moved slowly and with care, a low groan escaped Caleb as his weight lowered into the mattress.
“I’ll go get some cool cloths,” Grace said.
Desperate to feel useful, she swiftly went down the short hallway to her left and found the bathroom door ajar. One folded bath towel, one hand towel and one face towel all lay stacked on the otherwise empty counter next to the sink. When she turned on the faucet, she and took a deep breath. She tried to brush away the fearful thoughts that were creeping in at the edges of her mind. They were safe. Caleb was alive. For now, her mind whispered.
Trying to distract herself, she grabbed both the hand and face towels roughly and soaked them in cold water. She wrung them tightly and let the cool water flow over her hands. A bit of it trickled down her arms, but she ignored it. She set them aside briefly and splashed water on her face. She let it roll off her nose and chin as she slowly turned the faucet handle back.
“I can do more,” she heard Gav’s lowered voice from down the hall.
“No. Don’t. She…” came Caleb’s strained reply.
The sound of Caleb’s gruff voice had Grace rushing from the hall entrance straight over to the bed. She nearly threw the towels at Gav as she knelt on the floor next to Caleb’s head.
“We’ve got you, Caleb. You’re going to be just fine,” she whispered in his ear as she stroked the hair back that had been plastered by water, sweat and grime to his forehead. He moved his hand slowly to grasp her fingers and squeezed.
“Thank you,” he whispered, then slipped back into unconsciousness. It was for the best, she supposed. He must be in excruciating pain.
“I know not what else is to be done for him,” Gav sighed staring down at Caleb. “There is work that I must do. It cannot wait any longer.”
“I will look after him. Is there a way for me to get a hold of you if he worsens?” She was thankful for everything Gav had done but had to admit that she was afraid of him leaving. She had no experience tending demonic injury. “And, you said you’re sure the hospital can’t do anything. But will trying to treat the wounds harm him?” she added. She had to try to help him – doing nothing would drive her mad.
“He will improve, Grace,” he said confidently, “but, if you wish to try to tend to him, I cannot see the harm it would do. I will carry his talking device should you need assistance. I will return to look in after you regularly until he is well.”
“Thank you,” she replied, but Gav, in his usual brisk nature, was already headed out the door.
Grace looked back down at Caleb. She cringed at the sight of the angry, blistering welts and purple bruises that littered his battered torso, and the left side of his face. Gav said he would be fine, but was he certain or just trying to soothe her? What if the wounds got infected? Doing nothing went against her very nature.
Settling herself on the corner of the bed by his feet, Grace whipped out her phone and began searching the internet for anything she could find on treating injuries caused by demons. Unsurprisingly, there was next to no �
�real’ information available. She did find a small article that discussed people who claimed to be hit repeatedly by an ill-tempered poltergeist, but it did not mention anything about healing the bruises. Were poltergeists a real thing too? Was she really asking herself that question?
After another hour of fruitless searching, she gave up. She would treat them as if they were normal burns and hope for the best. She was going to need supplies but didn’t want to leave Caleb alone, nor was she sure it was safe to leave the apartment. Instead, Grace loaded a digital cart full of first aid supplies and groceries from the closest supermarket and chose one-hour delivery. Thank God for modern technology.
Satisfied, she turned back to Caleb, who appeared to be resting, albeit fitfully. His hands absently tugged at the side of his shredded shirt. Some of the tattered fabric pieces clung to the burns, irritating the raw remains of the skin. She scanned the length of him. There was another large burn that stretched from his mid right thigh all the way to the lower calf muscle.
Grace went to the kitchen to start rummaging for some scissors. His clothes were filthy, covered in the soot and dirt of the city streets. Leaving them on would only promote infection, aggravate the burns and make it that much harder to remove them later. She was going to have to cut them off as carefully as she could.
Unfortunately, Grace was not only unable to find scissors anywhere, she was unable to find anything in his cabinets. Every single one was empty. She opened the fridge – nothing in it. She opened the dishwasher – not even a single piece of silverware. He hadn’t mentioned he was moving, but he must have been either moving in or out. The small armoire against the wall to the right of the bed did hold some clothing, and in the corner sat a black leather love seat and a painting of someone in armor.
Giving up the search, Grace sat back down on the corner of the bed and quickly added scissors to her order. She put her phone back in her pocket and stared at him again. Caleb’s stoic features were softened by the motionlessness of unconsciousness. She’d never seen him like this – not just asleep, but also vulnerable. Since the moment she had met him he had only been a strong, solid force of a man. Knowing that he had faced this for her, that he’d nearly died for her, only made him even more attractive. Without him she would have been demon chow before she’d realized what one was. Instead, without even knowing her, he’d dropped everything to protect her. She felt guilty for doubting his motives, for struggling to believe in someone’s kindness just because it was the right thing to do.
Now it was her turn to return the favor. She couldn’t take care of him and still go to work. She was going to have to take time off. Grace settled into the corner love seat and called Annalise.
“Hi,” she said lightly, trying to keep her voice down.
“Hey there!” Came her familiar vivacious voice. “So, listen. I found this other guy. He’s a friend of a friend. My friend swears he’s never expressed a discriminatory view in his life, but I double checked his Facebook page to be sure. Looks clean. Plus, he’s a, well, something in banking. It’s complicated but he’s very successful…” While she spoke, the painting hanging on the wall caught Grace’s eye again. The person in the armored suit was not a man, but a young woman. Her cheeks rosy, her eyes closed in the ecstasy of fervent prayer, it appeared as though the delicate wind blowing through her hair was from the whisper of God himself. It wasn’t labeled, but this breathtaking painting had to be of none other than Joan of Arc.
“Grace? Grace?” Annalise’s voice broke her concentration on the painting. “So, what do you think?”
“Hmm?” Grace responded, reluctant to admit that she had zoned out.
“About meeting this guy.”
“You know, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I think I’ll pass for now. Let me explain why I called.” She took a breath. “I hate to do this to you, particularly so last minute like this, but I’m going to need to take a leave of absence.”
“Why? Are you alright?” Annalise’s voice took on an immediate tone of surprise and concern. Grace wasn’t one to take time off unless something serious was going on, and Annalise knew it.
“I’m okay but someone broke into my apartment this morning, and, from the evidence, the police think that it might have been some kind of stalker,” Grace said. She hoped she sounded believable.
“Oh my God, Grace, that’s serious. Did they provide you with protection? Do you have a place to stay?”
“I have the very best protection that I could ask for. Please try not to worry.” Grace reassured her, but Annalise laughed.
“My friend is being stalked, and she tells me not to worry. You’re funny, Grace, you know that? But seriously do you need a place to stay? I have a spare bedroom.”
Hearing Annalise call her a friend and offer her a place to stay made her feel all warm and fuzzy, yet guilty at the same time. She hated lying. It wasn’t in her nature. But she couldn’t tell her the truth; she’d never believe it.
“I’m at a friend’s apartment.”
“Which friend? Do I know them?” she asked, the tone of her voice changing to one of genuine curiosity.
“No, you haven’t met him,” Grace started but realized her mistake too late. Annalise was already all over it.
“HIM? Did you say ‘him’? Ooooh tell me all about him. Where did you meet? Was he with you when the break in happened?” She sounded a little too excited.
“Whoa, Annalise, chill. It’s not like that,” Grace tried to interject, but Annalise wasn’t having it.
“Sure, sure,” Annalise said, her disbelief evident. “Anyway, of course you can take some time off. I want you to be safe. Is there anything I can do for you?” Annalise asked.
“Not for me, no. But there is one thing,” Grace started but Annalise interjected.
“You name it.”
“Could you please keep a close eye on Matty for me? And keep me in the loop if you can?”
“Absolutely. After our conversation last week, I called the Murphy’s and we were able to set up a home visit for this Thursday. They think it is purely routine. Is it okay to continue to call you on this number? I can let you know how it goes afterward. Or, if you’re able, you can come with me.”
“You have no idea how much that helps. I’ve been so worried about him. And yes, you can still use this number. I’ll let you know if that changes. And I’ll keep you posted about how the investigation is going and when I can return to work.”
“Okay. Sounds good,” Annalise said. There was silence for a moment. “This is probably a moot point now, but I was going to ask if you wanted to go downtown Wednesday night. There’s some cool stuff happening, and it might help take your mind off things. I get it, though, if the police think it isn’t safe.”
Before Grace could respond, there was a knock the door.
“Oh, my delivery is here. I gotta get this. And I’m going to guess no, but I’ll ask them,” Grace said.
“Ok. And Grace? You take whatever time you need. Your job will be waiting for you. Stay safe, okay?”
“I promise. Thanks.”
Grace put the groceries away and organized the medical supplies. Afterwards, she began the slow and tedious process of cutting off his clothing. She had to carefully peel the fabric from around the burns as best she could. For the more difficult spots, she used a damp cloth to wet the material so that it would more gently slide away. She wasn’t sure if she was concerned or relieved that Caleb didn’t stir.
It was only when she had finished working her way around the wound at his thigh and pulled off the final piece of pant that her fixed concentration eased. Her heart skipped a beat when she looked down the length of him, realizing with a shock of heat that he was now fully naked. His body was as sculpted as a Greek statue, lean and muscular, the stillness only highlighting its potential power. Her cheeks tinged with the thoughts of possibility as her eyes glided over his groin. She wanted him to be healed, to be with her, to be over her, in her.
Scolding h
erself for staring at him while he was in such a state, she set back to the task at hand, although she found it more difficult to concentrate now. For what felt like hours, she gently rinsed each burn, applied burn gel where she could, and bandaged each scalded section with a light and tender touch. She slowly fell back into a trance-like state, as each ministration became a demonstration of her feelings for him. After taping the last bandage in place, she laid a feathery kiss on his forehead and enfolded his hand in her own.
“I will be here if you need me,” she whispered, even though he likely couldn’t hear her.
Grace heated a frozen dinner and curled up in the chair. She figured she’d watch a movie on her phone but something about the painting of Joan of Arc sucked her in again. She marveled over the exquisite details in the armor, the stained glass, and even the folds of the white banner cloth draped around her shoulder. The curves and shadows of her hands grasping the hilt of her sword were so lifelike, she expected them to move at any moment. A small silver ring adorning Joan’s finger glinted in the sunlight.
“No way,” she said, her breath leaving her. She climbed out of the chair and practically put her nose to the painting. Etched in the perfect detail that matched the rest of the painting was the ring face bearing three tiny crosses and the names ‘Jesus’ and ‘Maria’.
She looked down at the ring on her hand and back at the painting at least half a dozen times. A tempest of questions erupted inside her. Was this a painting of the exact same ring or were there more than one? And, if it was unique, why did she have Joan of Arc’s ring? But she feared the answer to the biggest question. Why had Caleb not told her about this? There was no way he hadn’t known that the ring in this painting was identical to her own. He had feigned ignorance about it, yet here he had an exact painting of it in his apartment.
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