A Hollow Cry (After Life Book 1)

by Bee Douglas

  The door clicks shut. I turn the water off and make quick work of drying. There’s a folded pair of sweats on the edge of the sink. Kane set them there to change into after we got home tonight. He also put one of his t-shirts on top for me. Using his bathroom has been like second nature these past few days. I didn’t even realize I had gone straight to his shower and not the one in my room. My heart sinks. I slide into his clothes and towel dry my hair before I step into the bedroom.

  Willow is pulling the sheet over Kane’s body while Royce is balling up a pair of black pants. They had moved him off the floor and into his bed. It still doesn’t look like him. He looks too fragile.

  “We’re cleaning up,” Royce says. “That’s not something you should do.” More tears sting my eyes, threatening to fall.

  “I have to get going,” Willow tell me, walking closer. I open my mouth to try to find words to thank her, but she simply shakes her head. “Don’t. There’s no need.”

  Royce clears his throat, handing over the pants Kane had been wearing. “I’m going to crash on the couch. Yvette’s taking up the spare bedroom.” I nod and the two of them walk to the bedroom door. Before shutting it, Royce glances at me once more. “We’re just down the hall. All you have to do is call.”

  The door closing signals that Kane and I are alone in the room. I drop the pants and creep slowly to the bed. Kane’s chest moves slowly with troubled breaths. His skin lost all its color, revealing a sickly complexion. Crawling in beside him, I lay my head down on the pillow. I reach my fingers out, running them along the side of his face.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, burying my face into his neck. “This is all my fault.”

  ...

  “Focus!”

  If this bitch tells me to focus one more time, it’s going to be the last thing she says. The days following the attack, I’ve decided that I need to be pushed harder. And Yvette hasn’t disappointed.

  For hours each day, I’ve tried different tactics to focus vibrations that surfaced recently. The day that Briggs barged into the apartment was the first time they’ve happened. The entire apartment building seemed to rattle. But in the alley behind the Playground, they were more forceful. I had actually been able to throw the man several feet in the air.

  But Yvette hasn’t comprehended that I have no control over when it happens. I get that her whole role in this is to push me and bring out the Banshee, but it’s not as if I can whip them out of the back of my pocket. She has me screaming and hollering, singing in the highest pitches. I’ve been able to muster a few, which have ended in me being thrown on my ass.

  “Focus!”

  Whipping my head in her direction, I yell back, “I am!”

  Willow chuckles from where she stands along the outer edge of the warehouse. With Kane being out of commission, she’s offered to be substitute security for me. Needless to say, she’s been kept amused.

  Biting back my anger, I take a deep breath and allow an indignant howl to rise up. The base of my neck tingles with the warning signs of the hair-raising sensation; something that happens right before a tremor comes. Focusing on it, I pinpoint it in the direction of the dummy that stands several feet away. Rocks and rubble begin shaking along the ground. When the sonic vibrations finally erupt, it feels as if the world pulses along with it. The dummy is pushed further away, but at the same time, my body is thrown in the opposite direction as I lose hold of the tremor. I land on the ground, my head bouncing from the collision as rocks dig into my back.

  “Fuck!” I yell, slamming my fists into the concrete. I push myself up, wincing at the pain radiating throughout my body. I haven’t been able to keep track of all the cuts and bruises I’ve gotten lately.

  “Don’t get pissy,” Yvette says, flipping through the book she always has with her. “I told you to-”

  “If you tell me that I need to focus, I’ll string you up with the dummy.”

  The witch lets out a laugh. I wipe at the dirt on my clothes, trying to get as much of it off as I can.

  Willow clears her throat. “Why don’t we call it a day?”

  “If we keep calling it a day, she’s not going to get any better.”

  “And if you kill her, there isn’t going to be anything for you to toy with,” Willow bites back.

  Yvette lets out a sigh, standing up from her little perch. “Very well.” She strolls by with her head held high. She’s several inches shorter than either of us, but she makes up for it with the intimidating air she holds.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Willow says, nodding toward the exit.

  Singh waits outside for us. It’s one of the only ways Kane lets me out of the apartment. He’s been stuck in his bed since the fight. It makes it easier to hide all the bruises. If he knew what I’ve been up to, he’d be upset. No. Upset wouldn’t even cover it. As each day passes, the stronger he gets. Pretty soon I won’t be able to keep any of this hidden from him. That’s going to be the day that I fear for Yvette’s life.

  We drive along in silence for a while. I lean my head against the window, watching all the scenes we drive by. The sun sets earlier and earlier, creating colorful art in the sky. They are beautiful watercolor masterpieces. With the pretty colors come colder nights. This is the time of year I’d normally wear my zip-up jacket like a second skin.

  The nursing home is always cold. With this twisted rabbit hole I’ve been sucked into, I try not to let Beacon Light cross my mind. Kane’s made sure Hannah’s is taken care of. Spending day after day, year after year, it’s an odd sense of relief not being on payroll, and not having to worry about hours and money. I honestly don’t know how I’m going to be able to get back into the work life once things get back to normal - if things get back to normal.

  “Have you always lived here?”

  Willow’s question pulls me out of my thoughts. “Yes. Not too far from here.” She nods, glancing back out the window. “What about you?”

  She doesn’t reply right away. The hard expression she usually wears turns sullen. I give up hope of her replying after a while. So when she finally answers, I make sure to take in everything she says.

  “I grew up in Illinois. It was a small town. Is a small town,” she explains, clearing her throat. “One of those places that everyone knows one another.”

  “That sounds pretty miserable,” I mumble. There were enough people in my high school classes that I had been able to stay hidden. And in the adult world, let’s be honest, disappearing is the easiest thing to do.

  Her laugh is a bit on the grim side of life. “It was smothering. Nothing happened without it becoming a part of the town gossip. There were no late-night rendezvous or parentless house parties that went on without everyone knowing about it the next day. It was a fight just to keep the name of your crush to yourself. Plus, when your grandfather’s the town preacher, your social life is slim to none.”

  Singh pulls up to a red light. Several people cross at the corners, including a couple holding hands. The corners of Willow’s mouth perk up.

  “My lack of social life was self-induced.”

  “No,” she says quietly, “that wasn’t my case. The idea of a fun night out being turn into a Sunday sermon scared most away. I can’t tell you how much I craved human contact. Hell, even a simple invitation.”

  I gaze over at her. Willow’s gorgeous and strong. I find it hard to picture her struggling for relationships of any kind. She’s the type of person people usually flock to. My heart aches for her.

  “When it came to picking where I wanted to go to college, I picked one that was far away,” she goes on. “That was a big mistake.”

  “Going to college?”

  She shakes her head. “It was thinking I could handle such a drastic change.”

  It’s hard grasping that people like Willow and Kane had a life before all of this. They had already made decisions in their life that had affected where their soul stands in the world. I know them as they are now, not how they were before.

/>   Willow doesn’t continue on and I don’t push her. When Kane told me that the Accursed are stuck living in a sort of limbo, it left me curious. What had people like her, and that Briggs guy, done to leave their souls an equal part good and bad? Was the good really overpowering enough to mask the bad?

  We arrive outside of Kane’s apartment; Singh pulls up tightly against the curb. Thanking the both of them, I get out of the car and quickly make my way up the elevator.

  Kane is pouring himself a glass of water when the doors open up. His pajama pants hang low on his hips, revealing every inch of the flaming phoenix. I can’t help but let my gaze slip a little lower. A man’s ass isn’t something I usually find attractive. An ass is an ass, right? Kane changed all of that.

  “You’re supposed to be lying down,” I scold him.

  Her turns quicker than he should have, making him wince. “I needed something to drink. But my nurse is home now.”

  “Ha ha.” I roll my eyes. Walking over, I make sure that his bandages are still intact and didn’t peel away in while he slept.

  Reaper and Changelings have this ability to heal at a quickened rate. But, several decades ago, two stones were found to cause harm to either side. Reapers have fashioned bits of painite into weapons, while Changelings use white benitoite crystals. Any wound created with the stones make it harder for them to heal. While Kane should have been healed by now, the lethal qualities benitoite has on Reapers turned him into a very unhappy, stubborn patient.

  I look up into Kane’s scrutinizing gaze. “You’re dirty.”

  “I tripped,” I mumble. I take a few steps away for safe measures. For him to get suspicious would be the worst thing right now, for the both of us. “Did you sleep okay?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t even feel you get out of bed.”

  Clucking my tongue, I feign insult. “Someone’s slacking.”

  His gaze hardens. “That’s the last thing I’m doing.”

  “Calm yourself, killer. I know you aren’t.”

  Grabbing a few things out of the fridge to make a sandwich, I feel his arms wrap around my waist. He pulls me tight to his chest. I bite down on the inside of my cheek and squeeze my eyes tight, trying not to tense my body up. His gentle gesture is anything but. With all the trauma that’s been done to my muscles as of late, it feels like a torture hold.

  Kane places a few kisses along the side of my neck. My toes curl. “Why don’t you wait to eat your lunch?”

  His thumb grazes the underside of my breast, causing me to let out a shaky breath. “You need to heal,” I say, hating myself for it. And so do I.

  26

  Nora

  Two days later, Kane has yet to get over his pissy mood. He sought me out and the distraction my body could offer. It’s what I had initially done. Why was it any different for him?

  It was a blow to his ego. I get that. I also get that he’s feeling pretty shitty about himself. He’s someone that’s strong and independent. Being injured as badly as he is does absolutely nothing for his self-worth. It’s like a large notch being chopped away from his spirit. At the same time, for him to seek me out doesn’t help when I’m hurting too. Every inch my muscles move makes me want to scream out. Chain reaction. It’s hard enough not to grimace or blanch in pain with every accidental touch. And yet, as much as my body aches on the outside, my soul yearns to be touched by his. So now, not only is he upset with me, but my body hates me too.

  “Better hurry or you’ll be late.” Kane grunts from where he sits in the bed.

  He looks a lot better. His skin no longer has a sickly shade, and even the dark circles around his eyes aren’t as scary. He’s on the mend. The wound on his shoulder is healing nicely. It’s the other one that still has me worried. It bleeds every time I change the bandage, and last night, he nearly doubled over in pain from turning too quickly. That crystal has taken a toll on him.

  I walk over, stepping in between his legs. His dark hair feels like silk through my fingers. Several nights have passed between that night and now, but I still fear of seeing my hands covered in his blood every time I touch him. He pulls me close, running his own hands up my thighs. Leaning down, I capture his lower lip beneath my teeth, giving it a little tug. He moans. It’s a primal sound. I kiss it away as if there’s not any tension standing between us. His hands grip my sides, fingertips pressing down. A gasp leaves my lungs, causing me to pull away. I squeeze my eyes together tightly, fighting back the forming tears.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I shake my head, wishing I didn’t cry so easily. “I wish you understood why I won’t touch you,” I whisper, my voice a crackling mess. I finally look at him. Kane’s eyes search mine, looking for a hidden answer. “I’m a nurse. It’s my instinct. Holding that against me isn’t fair.”

  His pulse drums against my thumb as I stroke his neck, needing to touch him. He holds me in his scrutiny, eyes squinting slightly. I hate when he looks at me like this. It’s as if he can see right through me. Like every lie and cover up are laid out in front of him.

  “Okay,” he says. It’s not harsh. It’s not laced with apprehension. It’s... okay.

  “Once you’ve healed more,” I tell him, stealing another kiss, “I’ll be damned if I let you fall asleep each night without some type of fuckery beforehand.”

  He lets out a breathy laugh. The sounds like music to my ears. “I’ll be keeping you to your word, Miss McKinley.”

  Placing one more kiss on his lips, I say, “I hope you do.” It takes everything I have to leave him.

  On the elevator ride down, I press my body against the cold metal, using it to calm the areas where his hands had been. I hate keeping this from him, but I also don’t want to see his reaction to how destroyed my body has become. As long as I keep wearing long sleeves and leggings, I’ll be okay. For the time being at least. We’ve been making progress and I’m not ready to hinder that. Yesterday, after an odd meditation session, Yvette gave me one of her gross potions to drink. It allowed me to connect better with the vibrations. I was able to feel the way they formed from the tips of my toes and travelled all the way up my body. Having that sense of awareness also gave me the ability to harness the tremors better. I was knocked on my ass only three times. It’s wasn’t a huge difference, but Yvette seemed slightly satisfied. I can’t stop now.

  Another one of Kane’s restrictions is that Willow or Royce meets me at the door. And they usually are, but tonight, I don’t see either of them. Through the window, I can see the black town car waiting along the curb. The street lights glisten off it as rain falls down. It’s been raining the majority of the day; I don’t blame them for not waiting to get out. Pushing the door open, I pull the hood of my jacket over my head and walk out.

  I love the smell of rain. It’s soothing. Just like a lavender candle and a bubble bath after a long day. It’s nature's own three wick candle. Even the wetness gives the sense of renewal, allowing a fresh start to begin. While most scurry to get out of it, I’ve always savored it.

  What I don’t enjoy savoring is a hand grasping around my throat, forcing me up against the brick wall.

  The pain of my back being forced up against the brick wall sends spasms throughout my whole body. It’s a paralyzing sensation. I gasp for air, but the hand around my throat crushes my windpipe. The body of a woman materializes in front of me. She’s beautiful. She has the face of an angel with nearly white hair and translucent skin to match. Pure. That’s all I can focus on as I fight against her strength. I barely make out the movement coming from the car, nor the other bodies appearing.

  “Let her go!” Willow commands. Her voice sounds like an underwater echo.

  The woman’s gaze travels up and down, sizing me up. A terrible smirk forms on her lips. A mixture of tears and rain water drizzles down my face.

  Willow shouts more, but I can no longer hear anything. Not from her. Not from any of the other people. White noise rings through my ears.

  This is what it feels like to
die, I keep thinking to myself. No matter how hard I gasp, no air gets through. A black haze forms around the edges of my vision.

  Gathering the last bit of strength I have, I thrust my knee upwards. Crotch shots are weak moves. Eye gouging too, but it’s all I had. And if I could’ve reached her eyes, I would’ve dug my thumb nails in deep. Fuck girl code at this moment. It’s not a forceful move, but it takes her by surprise, giving me a split second to catch a breath.

  I feel the tremors rising up before I realize I’m conjuring them. The wide eyes of the cruel angel send a wave of joy crashing over me. As I open my mouth, I let out an unhinged wail that sends her body flying. I can’t hear how hard she hits over the sounds of my own voice, but by the looks of the cracks in the bricks, I’d say it wasn’t an easy hit.

  By the time I get the tremors under control, the other people in the alley are overcoming from shock. Willow takes advantage of the situation and fights off the bodies holding her back. She moves like smoke.

  “Nora, run!”

  My body hesitates for a brief moment. This bitch really wants me to run after almost getting choked to death? The girl I threw gets back on her feet. I block out every pain in my body and I do just that. I run.

  I’ve never been a runner. Me and sports don’t mix. I can barely walk on a flat surface without tripping, let alone run any amount of distance. I don’t even make it four blocks before my calves start screaming. My lungs and throat burn. But I keep moving.

  After block number twelve, I’m convinced I’m dying. Not from the pain and the breathing, but because every person I bump into causes my head to feel like it’s going to explode. Images blindingly flash through my mind.

  A woman down on her knees in front of a man, his cock in her mouth. Another man barging in as a distraught look takes over his face.

  Children playing basketball in the middle of a street. A young man driving a car swerves over the yellow line. The car stopping only when he realizes one of the children have been hit. And yet, he drives off as blood pools around the body.