363
cradle. The handset clattered to the floor and emitted a low, whining buzz.
Lainie moved like an automaton through her little house, staring sightlessly past her own belongings. Finally she came to the piano. She trailed a finger along the cool, ivory keys, barely hearing the trilling scale of the music. Photographs cluttered the shiny black surface, framed in dozens of textures and designs. All of them Kelly, all of them smiling.
Memories. The word cut like a knife.
There were no pictures of Killian to hold to her breast at night, no photographs to remind her what she'd felt for him.
She looked up at the ceiling, feeling the sharp sting of tears. Where are you, Killian? What's it like there?
What if he was afraid? What if he needed her? She didn't want him ever to be alone again; they'd both been lonely for too long....
She stumbled back from the piano, seeing the pictures through a blur of tears. She knew she should call Dr. Gray, should check herself back into the hospital. The thought caused a shudder of revulsion.
She drifted into her bedroom and crossed to the window. Wind clattered against the glass, rain turned it into a rectangle of squirming silver threads. She hugged herself and stared, dazed, at the display of nature's power. Strangely, she was unafraid. For the first time in her life, the storm didn't scare her.
Another lesson learned, she thought bitterly. Another demon exorcized.
And she didn't care. She'd gladly live with fear again for just one more second with Killian. Just one more kiss.
For a heartbreaking second, she felt him beside her, felt the warmth of his arms around her, saw his sexy
364
smile as he reached toward her. One kiss, Lainie. Just one ...
With numb fingers, she flicked the metal latch and shoved the window open. Cold, fresh air hit her in the face, rustled her dirty hair. It smelled of pine and cedar and rain, just like it always did.
It hurt, that ordinary, everyday smell. Hurt more than she could have imagined. Tears blurred her vision, turned the backyard into a wash of shadows. Droplets splashed down from the trees and splattered the muddy green of her lawn, running along the fence line in a moonlit, silver rivulet.
Lightning struck in a white-hot bolt. The electric tip smacked into a dogwood tree, setting off a fiery shower of sparks. Thunder vibrated through the house, rumbled in the floorboards. The thick, acrid smell of smoke wafted through the open window. Another bolt exploded through the night and caused a brilliant, unearthly white glow.
Then everything went black.
"Damn." She sagged, too tired right now to deal with another power outage. Turning away from the window, she felt her way across her bedroom and reached for the stash of thick white emergency candles she kept in the box beneath her bed. Lighting a dozen or so, she placed them around her room, on every flat surface, until the walls glowed with a rose-gold sheen. Overhead, the Day-Glo stars twinkled against the dark blue paint.
It looked like a night sky in the Arizona desert.
Don't think about it. Don't... But she couldn't think of anything else.
Sagging onto the bed, she drew the soft blue coverlet around her and lay down, curling into the smallest, tightest ball she could. The fleecy folds of the blanket
365
coiled around her and should have been warm. If only she weren't so cold inside ... so cold ...
A quiet, desperate little sound caught in her throat. Tears burned behind her eyes and ached in her chest, but she couldn't release them. She was afraid that if she cried, she'd feel better, and she didn't want to feel better, she wanted to hurt just like this for the rest of her life. As long as she was in pain, it was all real.
She drew her knees tighter against her chest and closed her eyes. Come to me, Killian. I'm here.
She waited, breath held, for an answer, but there wasn't one.
The magic was gone.
No, she thought dully. It wasn't gone.
It had never existed at all.
Tears scalded her eyes and shuddered through her aching chest. She didn't try to stop them this time, couldn't. Sobbing, shaking, she curled even smaller, tried desperately to disappear.
You're safe now. I love you. Lean on me, Lainie.
She tried to bring forth an image of him before his death, but she couldn't do it, couldn't remember his smile, his laugh, his sexy eyes. All she could see were the last moments, the gasping, quiet way he'd said her name, the deathly pallor of his skin.
/ knew I wouldn 't be there for you.
"Oh, God," she moaned.
Suddenly a gust of wind smacked the house, rattled the windows. Her curtains billowed against the wall. Icy air swept into her room, bringing a flurry of leaves with it. Downstairs, the door banged open with a crash. The house clattered and shook and moaned at the onslaught.
Lainie ignored it until shards of rain started pattering her bedroom floor, puddling on the wood. With a tired sigh, she pushed to a stand. She closed her window,
366
then reached for a candle and walked tiredly through the house toward the front door.
A burst of wind extinguished her light, left her in a solid blackness. Leaves swirled at her feet, riveted to her shins. The open door thumped against the wall, rain hammered the wooden floors, collected in a silvery puddle.
She dropped her useless candle and tried to close the door. It wouldn't budge. Frowning, she gripped the brass knob more tightly and tried again.
Nothing. She couldn't move it.
Thunder cracked across the heavens and a white-hot bolt of lightning snaked through the clouds and hit Kelly's swing set in a shower of sparks.
Something caught Lainie's eye. Almost involuntarily, she moved into the doorway. Wind smacked her in the face, tangled in her hair. Rain slashed her cheeks and plastered her sweater to her skin.
Lightning struck again, illuminated the backyard in a series of jerking, staccato bursts.
There was something beside the swing set, a huge, hulking shadow.
She felt a sudden burst of fear and thought about slamming the door shut. Yesterday, she would have done just that, would have hidden beneath her bed and called the police. But today she was different. Stronger, somehow.
She took a tentative step forward, moved into the pulsing vortex of the storm. Whooshing wind yanked at her clothing, pulled her hair, and made her eyes water. Rain blurred her vision, but still she moved forward.
The shadow moved. A low, throaty growl came from that direction.
It was an animal in pain.
367
Lainie ran toward the swing set, her booted feet sliding through the rain-soaked grass.
The first thing she saw when she got close was the black hump of an oilskin duster, then a flash of lavender light.
Her breath caught. Hope slammed through her body, brought her to a dead stop. Her bones melted and she dropped to her knees. "K-Killian?" she whispered his name, so softly even she couldn't hear it above the droning whine of the rain.
He groaned and rolled over. Rain pattered his face, ran in rivulets down his cheeks.
Magically, the storm stopped. Dark gray rain clouds scudded across the sky. A full, blue-white moon peered down at them, cast them in sparkling light. Raindrops clung to the grass like a million fallen stars.
His eyes fluttered open. Their gazes locked, and in his eyes she saw it all, everything she'd ever wanted and needed and prayed to find.
She couldn't talk past the lump in her throat. She made a quick sobbing sound and bit down on her lower lip, afraid to believe in him, terrified not to.
"I'm real, Lainie."
Tentatively, she reached out. At the first touch of fabric against her fingertips, relief moved through her in a shuddering wave.
With a broken sob, she ran her hands across his chest, feeling for the stickiness of the blood, waiting for the wheezing pull of a pain-filled breath. He felt so strong and solid and real. She couldn't
get enough of touching him.
"It's gone," he whispered, and she could hear the wonder in his voice. "I might be dead in 1896, but I'm alive now." He gave her a slow, crooked grin. "There is a God."
368
"I'll never doubt that again." She threw her arms around his huge, wet body and molded herself to him, kissing every patch of skin she could find.
Laughing softly, he pushed her back and stood up, drawing her beside him. Then he lifted his hand. In the callused palm lay the amethyst, its oval surface glowing with magical, iridescent light. As they watched, the light diminished, sank back into the faceted surface of the gem. Then the golden filigree lost its color, faded into the flesh tone of his hand.
In a puff of smoke, the necklace vanished.
Killian turned to her. "I was wrong," he said softly. "I'm here for you, baby. And I'm not going anywhere this time."
She stared into the hard, life-worn face of the man she loved more than life itself. At the sight of him, grinning and dripping wet, a sunburst of emotion exploded in her chest, filled her heart. Before she knew it, she was crying, happy, joy-filled tears that cleansed the last remnant of sorrow from her soul.
He kissed her, and she clung to him, losing herself in the sweetness of his mouth. "Oh, Killian ..." she whispered against his lips.
He laughed. It was a rich, rumbling sound that slid into her heart in a warm, steady stream. "I think you can call me John now."
She drew back, gazed up at him. "John ..." She tried the name out, liked it, and smiled. Emotion swelled in her throat, made it difficult to breathe. Suddenly it was important that she tell him the truth, everything that she felt. He'd given that to her, given her the freedom of honesty, and she'd never go back to what she'd been before. Never. "I love you so much. So much ..."
He stared down into her eyes, and slowly his smile fell. His eyes darkened, took on an edge of sadness that
369
seemed inestimably old. Lainie felt a stirring of memory, a recollection of what it had been like always to be alone, always to be separate. He took her face in his big, rough hands and tilted her chin up, bringing her close enough for a kiss, but not kissing her. "Lainie," he whispered in a gruff, emotional voice. "I've been waiting for you all my life."
Then he kissed her�a fierce, passionate kiss that set off a flurry of butterflies in her stomach. In a single gesture, he swept her into his arms. Laughing, she threw her arms around his neck. "Where are we going?"
"I want to see our house." He surged across the doorway and kicked the door shut.
"This is the entryway. That's a painting by�"
He didn't stop in the entryway, just pushed through to the kitchen. "This is the kit�"
They were in the dining room. Lainie didn't even bother saying anything, they were through the dining room and upstairs to the bedroom so quickly.
The magical blue room curled around them, cast them in the flickering light of a zillion candlelights. "So, outlaw," she said, grinning up at him. "Are you going to ravish me?"
He tossed her on the bed and landed beside her, drawing her close. He grinned down at her, a wolfish, predatory smile that made her blood race. She knew then that no matter how long she lived, no matter how often she died, she would remember this moment, this man, forever.
You got to believe, child. Viloula's scratchy, sing-songy voice came back to her.
She smiled up at Killian, offering him everything with that smile�her heart, her soul, her life.
All at once, she understood what Viloula had said. She'd learned the lesson of her past; without even
370
knowing it, she'd learned how to love and trust and believe. She wasn't afraid of being abandoned anymore.
"I love you, Johnny," she said quietly, and the name seemed suddenly the most natural thing in the world. As if she'd never called him anything else.
He stilled, then gave her a slow, seductive smile that filled her soul with light. "You always have," he answered, brushing a thick curl of hair from her eyes.
And she always would.
Forever.
Miracles do not happen in contradiction to nature,
but only in contradiction
to what we know of nature.
�Saint Augustine
When Lightning Strikes Page 31
