"Are you fucking kidding me," Scott growled. A wordless groan of frustration was followed by the unmistakable sound of him kicking something along the lines of a metal trashcan can. "Is he out of his goddamned mind? What, is he looking to end up like Miriam?"
Cecily didn't know who Miriam was, but now wasn't the time to ask. "Rhia got the Shadow to leave, though," she said quickly. "It's gone now. So, that's good right?"
Scott's humorless scoff was the vocal equivalent of a middle finger. "Yeah, I mean, sure. That's something."
"So what do I do?" Cecily asked. "I put him in the shower like he wanted, but I don't know if it's working."
"I'll be honest, I don't know," Scott replied, his tone clipped. "This is uncharted fucking territory."
Cecily's stomach fell to her feet. "You mean he's never done this before?"
"Fuck no, he's never done this before," Scott shot back. "Nobody does that shit."
Cecily lost the fight against the next round of tears she'd been holding at bay. "Holy shit. What if he's not okay?" she choked. "Could he die from this?"
She heard Scott sigh again. "Okay, wait," he said, his voice lower and calmer now. "He's not gonna die. I didn't mean to make it sound like that. Nobody's dying, okay?"
Cecily tried hard to swallow her tears. "Okay. That's good at least."
"He just..." Scott groaned in frustration again. "It was just a stupid thing for him to do. But I know he did it for good reasons—and it's not just you and Zander. That Shadow has been following him around for weeks, so I get it. I just..." He sighed, "Shit. Tell me what happened after the Shadow left him, maybe I can make sense of the aftermath."
Cecily told him about finding Callum with his hands around Zander's throat, about Rhia's attack, Callum's blue-tinted fingertips, the shaking, and the struggle to get him into the shower.
It was probably an odd thing to be feeling right then, but as she spoke, she was relieved that this Scott guy seemed to care for Callum as much as she cared for Zander. In that way, it was like she'd found an automatic ally. She was relieved he was taking the whole thing seriously—relieved there was someone she could talk to about it. Relieved, even while she was still terrified.
There must have been something similar to relief seeping through Scott's veins as well, because, when she was done, his voice held a softness it hadn't before. Somber, but no longer pissed. "Okay, I think he's gonna be fine," he said. "He always spends a fucking hour in the bathroom with the shower running whenever anything even tries to intrude, so... Yeah, it might take a while, but I think he'll be fine—at least physically."
Cecily's attention caught on the end of his sentence. "At least physically?" she repeated as she slipped from her bedroom and into the living room.
"Physically, fine," Scott replied. "Mentally...I don't know. That's the scary part."
Cecily felt her skin tighten on her bones, heard her heart in her ears. "What do you mean?"
There was a pause, like Scott was trying to figure out how to respond. Finally, "Look, I'm gonna tell you something," he said. "Callum won't like it, but he sort of lost the right to an opinion when he went all in...."
⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸
The water was losing its warmth by the time Cecily got back into the bathroom. She could tell by the way the fog on the mirror wasn't as dense as it had been when she'd left. Callum had moved and was now sitting behind Zander, cradling her in his arms, his face tucked into her neck while the water streaming from the shower head pelted them both. Rhia was lying on the bathmat, her back against the side of the tub.
Both Callum and Zander looked up with tired eyes when Cecily closed the door behind her to keep the last of the warmth in the room.
She lifted Callum's phone, held in her hand. "I called Scott."
Callum's grimace was weak but no less recognizable. "He's gonna kill me when I get home."
Cecily gave a shrug as she sat his phone on the counter, but she couldn't play it off. "Yeah, he said something like that." She cranked off the faucet. "He also said to get you out of the shower and into bed before the water gets cold. Can you stand? Either of you?"
Zander nodded. She winced as she pushed herself up from the bottom of the tub, followed closely by Callum, their soaking wet clothes streaming rivers as they did it. Cecily gave support as each stepped out and Rhia moved to give them room to towel off.
She stayed in the bathroom instead of giving them more space because, while both were standing on their own, neither looked particularly sturdy while they did it. Zander was doing a lot of slow, deliberate blinking and wincing as she moved. And every once in a while, Callum weaved just slightly and had to right himself. He'd stare into space for a second afterward, like he was checking his balance. Once or twice, Cecily thought she saw him turn toward a noise she hadn't heard. Again, he'd pause, staring into space. It looked a lot like stopping to listen.
"Once you're in your room, if you throw your wet clothes into the hall, I'll put them in the laundry," Cecily offered on the tail end of one such moment.
Zander's swimming eyes focused on her. Her dark hair was black with water and her fingers were slightly shriveled at the tips when she reached for Cecily's arm. "You're a really good sister." Her voice was raspy and low.
Cecily felt her expression turn skeptical. That was the most un-Zander-like thing she'd ever heard her sister say. "Did you hit your head? I don't know how to take sappiness from you."
Zander tried to laugh, but it came out as a wheezing sigh. "I'm sorry I couldn't destroy it—"
But Cecily cut her off. "Stop. It doesn't matter. We'll figure something else out."
Cecily followed them both, wrapped in towels, as they trudged their way to Zander's bedroom. She watched Callum as they went, measuring every movement, inspecting every step for signs he wasn't okay—though she didn't know what she expected to see.
"When Mom gets home, I'll tell her you're sick," she said as they crossed into Zander's room. "That should buy you some sympathy."
Zander smiled a weak smile and gave a weak sigh of a laugh. "Thanks."
Cecily waited in the hallway for their soaking wet clothes and after starting a load of laundry, went back to the bathroom where Zander and Callum had sat in her shower. She took Callum's phone from the counter where she'd left it and brought up a text to Scott.
It's Cecily, she typed as she meandered back to the front room. She paused with her fingers hovering above the keys before making a decision she hoped she wouldn't regret. Shaking stopped. Got them to bed. Everything seems fine. So far so good.
It wasn't a complete lie. She couldn't know yet if the things she'd seen Callum doing since he’d gotten out of the shower were the result of the Shadow. Right?
She hit send and plopped down onto the sofa, exhausted. She was tired of thinking.
She stared into space, her thoughts a whirring white noise of nothing—and everything. The quiet felt quieter than she was used to, being alone more lonely than normal. But then, nothing about today had been normal. Why should the quiet solitude be any different?
She found herself staring at Zander's bedroom door.
Was anything in Callum's life normal? she wondered. This was obviously out of the ordinary, but Scott had made it sound like he had experienced partial intrusions before.
Cecily's chest constricted. Was this what she had to look forward to? A boyfriend she couldn't touch, that almost nobody else could see—and constant fear of evil she couldn't escape?
Was this her life now?
The phone clutched in her hand gave a soft vibrate and chime. She looked down to see Scott's response:
That's great news. Thanks for the update. Call or text if you need anything.
She did need something, Cecily thought. She had questions Scott likely had answers to. She brought her fingers to the screen, but before she could hit the “call back” icon, Zander's bedroom door flew open.
Callum was a blur as he raced across the living room, toward the bathroo
m in the hall, so fast Cecily didn't even have time to react. He slammed the bathroom door behind him.
Cecily looked to Zander's bedroom door, only to find her sister in the doorway. Dark circles had appeared under her eyes in the minutes since Cecily had said goodnight to her.
"I think he must be sick," Zander whispered. "He just bolted."
Cecily drew a breath and sighed with a nod as she pushed herself up from the sofa. Sick. Sure, why not? "You go to bed," she said to Zander. "I'll check on him."
"You're the best." Then Zander turned and closed the door.
Cecily trudged her way over to the bathroom and knocked gently on the door. She didn't hear any retching so that was a good sign, right? "Hey, you okay?"
"No."
That brought her up short. "Uh. Okay. What can I do?"
"Stop."
"Huh?"
Queue the retching.
Cecily stepped back from the door like cranking down the volume on a too-loud stereo. She paced back toward the dining table, but didn't stray too far, wanting to be available if Callum needed her.
Five minutes later, after hearing the toilet flush and the tap turn on and off again, as well as the unmistakable scrubbing of a toothbrush, Callum reappeared.
Cecily kept her distance out of respect, but she watched him as he stepped back out into the dining room.
"You okay?"
He nodded. "I'll be fine."
"Should I let Scott know you're sick?"
"Definitely not."
And with that, Callum crossed the room and disappeared through Zander's bedroom door.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Zander woke to the mattress dipping gently—to Callum slipping back into bed.
"Hey," she said sleepily, her throat aching with the effort. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm good," he replied, his voice low.
"Were you sick?"
"Yeah, but I'm good now."
That woke her up a little. He was sick? "Is that normal?"
"Yeah, I'm sure it's fine. I'm cold again though."
Zander tucked herself behind him, wrapping her arms around his chest. He didn't feel feverish, so that was a good sign, she supposed. "Better?"
She felt him nod. "Better."
She closed her eyes, calling sleep back again, trying to revel in the warmth beneath the blankets, the feeling of Callum's body beside hers.
But ten minutes later, she was still awake. Even while his breathing had turned slow, the tremors under his skin dissipating until they disappeared.
She pressed her face to the skin between his shoulder blades, breathing in the scent of him, feeling his pulse in the muscles. Now that total exhaustion wasn't dragging her under, she couldn't close her eyes for long without images flashing into her dark vision. Callum's face so cruel. The encroaching darkness as she suffocated. The pain and fear on his face as Callum shook in her arms while they sat in the shower together.
Tears stung her eyes, but she breathed them away. Even just the beginnings of a sob hurt her throat so much it was easy to convince herself not to cry.
She propped herself up on her elbow so she could look down at the side of his face.
It was hard to reconcile this peaceful, sleeping Callum with the one who had fought an evil force in his own body just hours ago.
That had been the most evil she could imagine fitting into any being, living or otherwise.
And it was still out there. Waiting for the right moment.
What had it said to her? That Callum had been fighting for her—that if it ended her, the whole thing would go more smoothly. She wished she knew what “whole thing” it had in mind—at the same time she was glad not to know.
It didn't matter, either way. All that mattered was its destruction.
She remembered the opalescent colors that bent in her vision as she suffocated, the ones she'd first taken to be hallucinations born from a lack of oxygen. Now she was pretty certain those colors had been the cloak. They'd been the veil itself, made visible as she'd hovered ever closer to the line of death.
She had to figure out how to pry the thing open. She had to figure out how to absorb the Shadow—how to destroy it.
Because, what if there were worse things? What if this Shadow was only the tip of the iceberg?
Callum had Rhia to keep him safe from all that evil. But Cecily had nobody—except her.
⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸
Zander didn't remember falling asleep, so it was disorienting when she woke up again to the sound of her bedroom door cracking open. She sat up, squinting into the light that speared across the floor, spilling into the room around the figure in the doorway.
Her heart tripped in her chest, a strange reaction—how many times had she awakened in this bed? Still, fear coiled in her stomach until her mom spoke.
"Hey. Cecily said you aren't feeling well."
Zander released her breath on a quiet laugh. "Yeah, neither of us are." She recited what she knew she was supposed to say. After all, it wasn't a complete lie.
It was then she realized she was lying next to Callum in her bed—and speaking to her mom who was standing in the room.
The night crashed into her memory.
"It seemed wrong to infect everybody by sleeping on the sofa," she said, her voice rasping, her throat aching while she spoke. "I promise—there is no sexy stuff happening in here. Trust me."
Silhouetted by the light from the hall as she was, her mom's smile was barely visible, but it was clear in her voice. "You're twenty-six years old, Zander. I think you're old enough to make your own decisions around that stuff, don't you?"
Zander went to laugh quietly, but her throat gave an uncomfortable pang, cutting her off. She brought her fingers to her neck on instinct and winced.
"Zander, your neck."
It was her mom's alarmed tone that drew Zander's attention, more than her words. She looked at her with question.
Her mom rounded the end of the bed and was beside her in the matter of a breath, her eyes focused and serious—her nurse's face. She took Zander's hand away from where she was still gently prodding the sore skin at her throat.
"Jesus Christ," she gasped, her own hand going to her mouth. Her eyes darted across the bed, to where Callum lay. When she spoke again, her voice was no more than a breath. "Did he do this to you?"
What? Then it hit her. The sore skin, her aching, stinging throat—she was bruised. She had bruises around her neck, like she'd been strangled. Because she had been.
And her mom thought Callum had done it.
She looked up at her mom, eyes shooting wide. "No. No, I swear, he didn't do this. It's..." hard to explain? Complicated? What could she say that wouldn't just sound like an abused woman making excuses for her abusive boyfriend?
She sighed, her hand falling to her lap. "We need to talk."
An hour later, Zander's mom was sitting on the opposite end of the sofa with her feet pulled up beneath her, and Zander's throat hurt so bad she was fighting back tears with each word she spoke. It just wasn't the kind of conversation for a few words. She had just told her mother that her boyfriend could see and speak to ghosts. What's more, Cecily could as well. That the two of them were being plagued by something evil. And that, even though Zander was at once immune and the key to destroying it, she hadn't been able to do so. She left out all the details, but did explain that the bruises had come from her and Callum's failed attempt to save Cecily.
Now she sat, waiting for her mother to say something. "Well?" she urged when a couple of moments had passed without a response. "You can ship me off to the nut house if you want to, but it's all true."
Her mom gave her a look of half-teasing censure. "I believe it's true," she said.
Zander sat back into the sofa, at once relieved and surprised at the ease with which her mom accepted it. She even found it hard to believe as she said it—and she'd lived it, with the bruises as proof. "You're more open minded than I am, then."
Her
mom laughed. "I would have loved to have been there when he told you. My ever-logical daughter being told ghosts exist—what did you do?"
Zander just shook her head. "I definitely stormed out. But... I don't know. I couldn't make myself leave, either. You sound much more accepting than I did at first."
"I've always known the other side was real," she replied with a shrug. "I've been having supernatural experiences since I was a kid. Relatives visit me in dreams, patients I spent a lot of time with used to—before I transferred to L&D."
Zander felt her brows furrow. "Are you kidding?"
Her mom shook her head. "Not at all. I got really into it when I was younger—before I had you."
"Into it how?"
"Just doing research and trying to understand it all," she replied. "It was a dead end, naturally. A lot of theories but no facts."
Zander just stared at her mom. How had she never known all of that about her before? "Jesus," she finally remarked. "I really am the only one without ghost stories to tell."
Her mom gave a quiet laugh. "Now you're the one with the best ghost story of all."
Zander tried to laugh in return, but it fell short—and not because her throat hurt. "I don't know about the best, but yeah..."
"So you care a lot about Callum, huh?"
Zander nodded and drew a breath, recalibrating her brain to the change in subject. She did care about him. A whole hell of a lot. Of course her mom had picked up on it. Never mind that she hadn't said anything more than calling him her boyfriend—which she still wasn't even sure was the right term for what they were currently doing. Still, her mom was good like that.
"He must really care about you if he was willing to go through all of that," her mom said.
Zander nodded again, her heart squeezing behind her ribs with something that felt like missing him, though he was just in the next room. "Yeah, it's too bad we fucked the whole thing up."
"You'll figure it out," her mom said. "And I have the next couple of days off from work—I can help."
The Cloak's Shadow Page 25
