The door creaked open, allowing a stream of light to funnel into the dark room. Dean poked his head in. When he saw I was dressed, he opened the door wider, then entered with a tray in his hands. A teakettle and a couple of sandwiches were arranged neatly to balance the tray. He set it down on the nightstand beside me and sat down on the edge of the bed. Brushing a strand of wet hair out of my face, he tucked it behind my ear with a gentle caress I didn’t deserve.
“What can I do?” he asked, hoarse.
I shook my head as I crumbled. Tears fell from my eyes, drenching my cheeks as I fell into his arms. He wrapped me in his warmth to soothe the ache and the pain away. It wasn’t working anymore. Nothing worked. I cried against his chest until, finally exhausted, I fell asleep into a numb oblivion.
I was somewhere in between sleep and awake. Voices rumbled softly in the distance like people were somewhere in the house. “I don’t care what it costs, just make sure everything’s taken care of,” Dean finished with exasperation.
“Yes, Gaoh,” Kurt responded.
“Is she all right?” Jade asked with a quiver in her usually steady voice.
“I don’t know,” Dean answered, sounding exhausted. “She finally fell asleep an hour ago. I thought the doorbell would wake her but it didn’t seem to.”
I’d never heard him worried before.
“I talked to Derek,” Kurt said with hesitation. “He said Amblan was already dead when the fire broke out. Her neck had been broken.”
“She doesn’t need to know that,” Jade said harshly. “She’ll think it was her fault.”
“She already thinks it’s her fault. I’d rather she find out now and deal with it,” Dean snapped.
I didn’t want to hear anymore. I let the world go and fell back into that black oblivion of sleep where nothing mattered.
I stood in the middle of my living room as Danny, Jackson, and Amblan circled me. Danny cried, Jackson yelled, and Amblan watched me in silent horror. The room filled with blood. The warm mass seeped through the floorboards, covering my feet. I glanced down once to find the thick, viscous blood had reached my ankles. They stopped circling when the blood got to be knee high. The three of them observed me, waiting for me to do something.
Danny opened his mouth to speak but Amblan held up her hand to stop him.
“Do you even care that our blood is on your hands?” she asked, stricken.
The deep crimson fluid filled my living room. It occurred to me that if I just let it all go, if I just let it all overtake me, I wouldn’t hurt anymore and I smiled. Relief eased the ache in my body, lightening my being, and I fell back, sinking down into the blood. I let it cover my head, fill my nose, and devour me whole.
My eyes fluttered open. I had no idea where the hell I was, and I didn’t really care. The covers were soft, and I was warm. Rolling over, I buried my face in the scent of forest and heavy musk.
I remembered as everything came rushing back. I was in Dean’s bed. The shades were drawn but I knew it was dark. The oppressiveness of night pressed on me like a weight.
I should’ve felt something; safe, hurt, pain, loss, anything. As I thought about Amblan, Danny, and my house, I was empty. There wasn’t anything left of me.
Voices boomed from downstairs. They were clear and angry as the sound of snarling filled my consciousness. I didn’t care. Not about Patrick and Dean downstairs, or the fact I was homeless, not about anything, really. I was either in shock or in serious emotional trouble but I couldn’t seem to care.
Numb was much better. I’d take numb any day of the week.
“What the fuck is she doing in your bed?” Patrick bellowed.
His voice rang out like thunder at midnight. I’d never heard Patrick so angry.
“Where the hell was I supposed to take her?” Dean’s voice was a deep rumble of a growl, resonating in his chest and vibrating with each word. “Your mansion is like a God damned mausoleum. I wasn’t going to leave her there alone, waiting for YOU to wake the FUCK up!” Dean snarled.
“You had no right,” Patrick snapped back. “She is not one of your bitches.”
They were both quiet for a long moment before I heard Dean answer.
“Because you love her and because you’re my friend, I’ll forgive you. But don’t push me,” he said in a strong, solid voice.
Patrick didn’t want to share me. I could hear that much in his voice not to mention the stabbing pain of jealousy sitting heavy in my gut and ripping my insides apart. I kicked his emotions out of me. I wanted to go back to that lovely numb oblivion I’d woken up in.
“You’ll forgive me nothing. I’ve watched you moon over her like a smitten teenager for months. I won’t share her. I finally have her to myself,” Patrick shouted.
“It’s not about you or me, don’t you get it?” Dean roared back. “They almost burned her alive today. Her house is gone,” he said with diminishing anger until he spoke the last so softly I barely heard him, “Amblan’s dead. Dahlia’s whole world is crumbling around her.”
“What?” Patrick gasped.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for the last fifteen minutes,” Dean said, exasperated. “Amblan was either already in the house or came home while they were there. They broke her neck.”
There was a pain in his voice that shouldn’t be there. I knew he was hurting because of me, Patrick was hurting because of me; Danny, Jackson, and Amblan were all dead because of me. My parents were still shits but they probably deserved the forgiveness I couldn’t give them. And last but not least, there were two groups of people in this city who depended on me and I had nothing left to give them.
“No,” Patrick said in disbelief.
“Yeah,” Dean said in a softer tone. “She cried most of the afternoon until she wore herself out.” They were both silent for a long time. “You want a drink?”
“The strongest thing you’ve got,” Patrick replied.
The clink of glasses was the only sound and I inched the covers up under my chin, snuggling into the warmth of the comforter. I wasn’t ready to face either one of them. If they were happy to ignore me, then I was happy to let them.
“There’s something else we need to talk about.”
“Now’s not appropriate,” Dean said.
“We need to and now is as good a time as any since—”
“Since she’s distracted,” Dean finished.
“Yes,” Patrick said with authority. “I love her.”
“I know that,” Dean said.
“Let me finish,” Patrick said with some agitation. “I love her more than is probably good for me. I had to share her with Danny. I accepted that because I had to. When Danny died, I thought . . . I thought . . .” He trailed off.
“You thought you wouldn’t have to share her anymore.”
“Yes,” Patrick said. That one little word filled with so much pain. “I understand what she is and what’s been created between us, all three of us. I adore her for sharing with us what she is but the thought of her with you . . . It kills me.”
“The thought of her with you kills me, too,” Dean answered. “I haven’t loved another woman since Janey.”
“I am aware,” Patrick said.
“Whether I wanted to admit it or not, she is my Eithina. I can feel her in my bones. That’s not the Fertiri, Pat. She’s my mate.”
“I realize that as well. I fear that once she goes to you, she may never come back to me.”
“Patrick, there’s room for both of us. She can love us both. I think she does love us both.”
“I understand theoretically what you say is true but I do not have to like it,” Patrick snarled. He sounded like a petulant child.
“No, you don’t,” Dean said. “But, you need to stop making her feel guilty
about it.”
I’d never heard anyone use that tone with Patrick.
“I hadn’t realized,” Patrick said with a sorrowful breath.
“You realize it now. That’s all that matters.”
I closed my eyes and lay in the warmth of the little cocoon I’d made for myself in the bed.
“What about Amblan?” Patrick asked.
“Derek and another detective will be by in the morning. Dahlia will need to stay until after she talks to them.”
“I’ll have Alex bring over some clothing for her,” Patrick offered.
“I told Kurt to take care of Amblan. Whatever they need and no matter the cost.”
“Good,” Patrick said.
“It will have to be closed casket,” Dean added, his voice soft as if it was an afterthought.
“Will you take me up to see her?” Patrick asked, hesitating.
“Of course,” Dean said.
The soft patter of hard-soled shoes on carpet reached my ears as the two predators climbed the stairs, followed by the soft creak of the bedroom door.
Patrick opened the bedroom door and a sliver of light cut across the room. He approached the bed, silent as only the dead can be. Sitting on the edge of the bed next to me, his movements were slow and cautious, as if he thought I was asleep but he knew I wasn’t.
I opened my eyes and peered up at him.
“How are you?” he asked, smoothing my hair from my face. His cold fingers swept across my forehead, leaving my skin tingling after the heat of the fire and Dean’s bed.
“Fine,” I said in a hoarse voice too deep and too distant to be mine. The heat inhalation, the screaming, and the sobbing had made my throat raw.
Patrick’s gaze flickered across my features before meeting my eyes.
“You don’t look so bad,” he said with a half-smile. His dark eyes twinkled in the low light.
“I’ll heal.” I could hear it in my voice, the void of emotion as if I was just going through the motions. He’d heard it, too. His brow furrowed and his fingers trailed down the side of my face to my neck, seeking my pulse. It was calm and steady. Numb was good.
“How long have you been awake?” he asked, his dark eyes became worried, darting frantically back and forth from one eye to the other, searching for some spark of life that I knew wasn’t there.
“A while,” I answered.
He edged back, putting some space between us so he could get a really good look at me, stroking my face with his fingertips. It was a familiar gesture that usually made me feel warm and wanted. Now it was just a touch of chilled fingertips to warm skin.
“You must have your barriers up tight for me not to have known when you woke, especially with everything that has happened today. Let me in. Maybe I can share some of the pain with you, help you,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb across my cheekbone.
I nodded and let down my barriers I hadn’t really known I had up. I allowed the complete and utter void within me to rush into him, to fill him up as it had thankfully filled me.
He gasped, and I saw the horror in his dark eyes. There was nothing there for him to share, to soothe. Finally, he understood how broken I really was.
A deep crimson tear fell from the corner of Patrick’s eye then traveled in a slow stream down the inside of his cheek, along his nose, leaving a trail of blood down his face. He leaned down and kissed me, soft and tender, pressing his full lips against my own. I tasted the salt of his lips and the sweet copper of his blood. “I love you. You know that, right?”
“Yeah,” I breathed.
“Go back to sleep. You need your rest,” he said. His voice quivered as a second tear stained the other cheek, falling to the pristine white comforter, ruining the purity of the fabric.
Back stiff, Patrick strode back toward the hall where Dean stood framed in the doorway. Light cascaded around him like a guardian angel, strong and immobile. Someone should tell him he couldn’t save me.
“What’s wrong?” Dean whispered.
“There’s nothing there. She’s empty,” Patrick responded, voice trembling. “It may not matter what we want any longer. She may already be gone beyond our reach,” he whispered as he glanced back over his shoulder to me. He pulled the door shut behind them but I could still make out their conversation, though faint.
“Patrick, she’s in shock and exhausted. Give her a few days to regroup.” Dean encouraged, his voice muffled from behind the closed door.
“Perhaps you’re right.” Patrick sounded hesitant and unsure. Their voices grew distant as they went back downstairs. “Do you mind if I stay here tonight?”
“I’ve already prepared your room and a guest room for me,” Dean answered. Their voices drifted into the den and grew quiet as I fell back to sleep. Thankfully, I didn’t dream.
Chapter 23
Derek came and went with a second detective, who didn’t say much. The guy watched at me as if I was guilty. To tell you the truth, it didn’t bother me. Nothing bothered me. I woke up in the same cloud of numbness I’d fallen asleep in. Derek’s concern and soft questions didn’t change that. He’d coddled me. I knew it, Patrick and Dean knew it, his partner, Detective LeMans, knew it, too. The only person who hadn’t noticed was Derek.
They left with Derek promising to check up on me later. I’d told him it wasn’t necessary but my lack of any emotion at all worried him more than if I had broken down into tears. They were all worried and circling around me like I would break at any moment. They were wrong. I was already broken.
Brennan had shown up that afternoon with prayers and some kind words. His condolences were hollow. He hadn’t known Amblan. He didn’t understand what she’d meant to me.
“I’ve never seen her like this,” Brennan had said.
“She’s still in shock,” Dean whispered, trying to keep his voice low since my exceptional hearing would pick up every word.
“I’m worried about her. Maybe I should call her family,” Brennan offered.
Standing by the window, I sighed.
“We’re her family,” Dean growled.
“B-but,” Brennan stammered.
“If you cause her more pain, you will answer to me,” Dean threatened.
I should have said something to protect Brennan. He didn’t know what he was up against but I just wanted him to leave me in peace. Leave me numb.
I spent the next two days and nights staring out of windows, either at Dean’s house or Patrick’s. I watched as Dean took care of the insurance issues for my claim.
“You shouldn’t have to deal with this,” he said.
I watched the squirrels run in his backyard like they owned the place. I watched the trees blow in the warm summer breeze. I watched as Alex and Patrick made all the arrangements for Amblan’s funeral and paid for everything. I watched as Jade came and laid out black dress after black dress for me to wear. I was watching my life pass me by, and I didn’t care.
I woke up surrounded by the smell of musk, the sun streaming across my face, and the sound of dishes clanging downstairs. I didn’t remember going to sleep or getting into Dean’s bed. The last thing I remembered was lying on Dean’s couch with my head in Jade’s lap as she ran her fingers through my hair. I’d stared into the fire, silent. It made her feel comforted, so I let her do it.
I got in the shower and washed, almost mechanically. I got ready, putting on my makeup, it wasn’t hard to cover up the pale yellow bruises on my face. I ignored the fading bruises on my arms; they’d be gone soon anyway. I fixed my hair and slipped into a pair of black nylons, fastening them to the garter belt around my hips. I slipped the black jersey knit dress over my head. Jade had picked out a simple wrap dress with little embellishments along the neckline and cap sleeves that hit just above my knee. It flowed easily around m
y legs and felt cool against my skin. I studied myself in the mirror and saw a different person staring back at me than the one I knew.
My eyes were hollow with dark circles shadowing underneath. I was thin, my hair was dull, my nails were cracked and broken to the quick. I looked sick. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten a real meal but I wasn’t hungry either. Everyone had stopped trying to force me to eat days ago.
The person staring back at me was unrecognizable. I’d never seen her before and, still, I felt nothing. Turning away from the mirror, I left the room and that other woman in the mirror behind. If I could hide from everything else, I could hide from that, too.
Jade stood at the bottom of the stairs waiting for me. She had a black straw hat and a big pair of sunglasses in her hands. She handed both to me without ceremony and I frowned. “I’m not Madonna. Why do I need all this?” I asked as I took them from her hands.
“It’s going to be hot today, and you’ll burn. Take the hat. You’ll need it,” she said then sashayed into the kitchen.
I followed, not having the energy or the inclination to argue with her.
Coffee waited for me along with a few slices of toast. I drank the coffee and picked up the toast as I went to the large French doors leading to the back deck. I had loved these doors the first moment I’d seen them. That seemed like a lifetime ago when Danny and Amblan were still alive, and I was strong enough to handle anything. I didn’t know then that I wasn’t. I laid the toast on the counter and closed my eyes.
A town car waited for us outside Dean’s house. I slipped into the back with Dean and Jade. Kurt slid into the front seat with the driver. Jade wanted to get a limo so we wouldn’t be crowded but Dean thought a limo was a bit ostentatious. No one asked me what I thought, and I didn’t offer.
Sliver of Silver (Blushing Death) Page 26
