“What is she doing?” I growled. “If she hurts Peyta I'll kill her with my bare hands.”
“She's not hurting her,” he grunted as he tried to wrestle me back down the hall. “She's transitioning her.”
“What?” I yelled, abandoning my struggle with him.
“Peyta is a Healer, Ruby, like Sophie. If the ritual isn't performed on the evening of her eighteenth birthday…,” he said, trailing off.
“What? What happens if it isn't performed?” I asked, choking on the panic that was ready to erupt from within me. It never boded well when Sean trailed off mid-sentence.
“She dies.”
I would have fallen if he had not been holding me up. Cooper, who'd been standing the whole time, collapsed into a chair, face blank with astonishment.
“It's not an enviable way to go, either. She'd slowly weaken, both mentally and physically. It would take years,” he explained. “We've only once had a situation like this before. The Healer's bloodlines have always been followed very closely,” he said, sounding defensive. “We still don't know how Peyta went unnoticed. If it weren't for her being here when she was….”
“She'd have died,” I finished. Ronnie would have lost the one thing, the one person, who was most important to her in the whole world. “Can Sophie do it?”
“If anyone can, it's her. It's the reason she came back. I'd mentioned Peyta to the Elders on a call and they must have confided in her; they're the ones who sent her. She recognized the signs, though she said there are still things about Peyta she can't quite explain, but she didn’t elaborate on it.”
I exhaled loudly. Peyta's going to be okay. She has to be…
Something shattered against the wall behind me and I looked up to see Cooper stalking back and forth in the living room barefoot, crunching over the broken glass of the vase he'd just decimated. It didn’t faze him
“So you just misplaced her?” he asked angrily, before picking up a ceramic bowl and heaving it at the front door. He charged Sean, grabbing him by the lapels, and hoisted him up against the wall. They stood nose to nose, both men breathing heavily, eyes murderous. “If she dies….”
“If you don't put me down, you won't live to worry about it anymore,” Sean countered. “I've given you the benefit of the doubt up until now, for Ruby's sake. You're officially out of favors.”
Cooper didn't budge.
“Put me down. Now.”
“If she dies I will find a way to make you pay for it,” Cooper warned, sounding more menacing than ever. “I promise.” He let go of Sean's shirt and stormed out of the apartment.
“You would try,” Sean said under his breath.
“He didn't mean it, Sean,” I said, trying to defend Cooper yet again. For once I wasn't in disagreement with him. “He loves Peyta like a sister. If something happens to her, it'll break him.”
He said nothing and walked away, down the hall to Cooper's room to press his ear to the door. His expression gave nothing away, so I closed my eyes and tried to feel what he was feeling, getting only a muddled mess of emotions: fear, anger and a hint of sadness, none of which boded well.
“How's it going?” I whispered.
“I can't tell. We'll have to wait for Sophie to come out. She'll know the prognosis,” he said, walking back towards me.
“So we wait?” I asked, nervously.
“We wait.”
Fantastic.
Since Cooper's emotions got the best of him, causing him to bail, Sean and I were left all alone in my living room. After leaving things the way we had in Boston, we couldn't have been more awkward around each other. It stayed uncomfortably silent as we tried dutifully to avoid conversing with one another. I cleaned up the dishes in the kitchen and the broken glass from Cooper's outburst. As I disposed of the debris in the trash, I looked up to see the white bakery box sitting on the kitchen island. I opened it up to admire the round, single tier, black fondant-covered cake with Swarovski crystal detailing adorning the top. I gingerly pulled it out of the box and placed it on the counter.
“She'll get to eat it,” I said to myself softly, before the tears started to run down my cheeks. I stared at the cake, thinking about the impact Peyta had already had on my life. I had no siblings, no cousins, in fact, no living family at all. I'd been alone since my parents died, and had to learn to survive on my own, all the while getting a crash course in the seeing world as well as the supernatural one. It was a tall order to say the least.
Sean had been my first real “friend”, but that had become hopelessly complicated after the realization that he was both my opposing force and my gravitational pull. Cooper had made me feel less alone and helped me cope with post-traumatic backlash of Utah, but then almost immediately he started to withdraw. Ronnie and I had developed a deeper friendship over the past few months, but she had Peyta and her shop to tend to, so she didn't have much free time. The time I'd been able to spend with Peyta, both at the shop teaching her about jewelry making, and vegging on the couch watching movies and terrible reality TV, illuminated the void I had in my being. I'd never even known it was there. I cared for her in a way that I didn't understand, and that caring led to a suffering that was nearly unbearable when I thought of the possibility of her death. My mind ran wild with feelings I had no way to process, so I just stared at the cake and cried.
“Ruby?” Sean called to me. He was standing a few feet away in the entrance to the kitchen.
“She can't die, Sean. She just can't,” I told him, turning my tear-soaked face to him. He hesitated for a moment before slowly making his way over to me. He slid the back of his index finger gently down the watery tracks, drying them.
“She should be done soon. Worry once you know there's something to worry about.”
“How did this happen, Sean? I don't understand it. How do you lose a person?”
“We didn't lose her. You can't lose something you never knew you had,” he said, sounding mildly defensive. “Do you know her father?”
“As far as I know, it's always been just Ronnie and Peyta. Neither has ever mentioned her dad,” I told him. “Why?”
“Just thinking out loud. The Healers come from a complicated line. Many factors need to be in play for a child to become one. Being female is the most obvious, but beyond that, it's hard to determine. It's not my area of expertise. One of the Elders is responsible for tracking the lines.”
“So he fucked up?” I asked, feeling disgusted that this person's entire job was to keep track of one thing and one thing only, and his oversight could be the death of Peyta.
I'd like to be in a closed room with him right now.
“So it would appear,” Sean replied dryly. “At some point in time, a child went unrecorded. He will have to go back to try to figure out when this deviation occurred.”
“And you think it could be Peyta's dad?”
“It's a possibility. Time will tell.”
“But that means we'd have to involve Ronnie,” I whispered, worrying about the possible implications that idea held. “How are you going to explain your incessant need to know who Peyta's father is? Maybe she doesn't even know, did you ever think of that?”
“I won't have to explain anything,” he said matter-of-factly. “You'll have to come up with a good reason to ask.”
Is he shitting me?
True to form, my sentiments were plastered across my face. Sean started to go into a long-winded explanation before I shut him down.
“You know what? I don't wanna know,” I said, waving my hands defensively in front of me. “I'll worry about that one later, too.”
I walked away from him, back to the couch, wanting to be left alone to sort everything out in my mind. It seemed I had yet another CF to add to my list; it was growing painfully long. Sean, not picking up on my “leave me alone” vibes, came and sat dangerously near me. He propped his elbows on his knees and rested his chin on his clasped hands, turning his head towards me ever so slightly.
“About
the other night, I….”
“New topic,” I blurted out like an involuntary tic.
“Ruby, I just want to—”
“I'm not listening,” I told him as I leapt off the couch covering my ears. “See this?” I asked as I danced around in circles. “Not listening! La la la la la la la.” I then walked towards the apartment door, thinking maybe I, too, needed to get out; perhaps Cooper had the right idea. I grabbed the knob to turn it, only to have Sean's hand clamp down on mine, thwarting my escape attempt. His body was so near mine that I could feel the heat radiating off of him.
“Please. I need you to understand one thing,” he pleaded. I turned to look up at him and saw sadness in his eyes. I tried the door knob again, but his grip only tightened further. “Will you not at least hear me out? Just this once?” he asked.
“I don't see the point in it, Sean,” I sighed. “Nothing has changed between then and now. Status quo.”
His mouth tightened, eyebrows drawn downward. He knew I was right, but was determined to say what he'd wanted to say. He opened his mouth once to speak before closing it quickly, as if resetting before attempting his explanation again. He never got the chance.
As he leaned in close to my ear and started to whisper his defense, Cooper's door closed quietly down the hall. We both snapped to attention like teenagers who got caught making out on the couch by their parents.
“Having a little tête-à-tête, are we?” she asked, voice silky smooth. It was her attempt to cover the rage boiling under the surface; I could feel it rolling off her down the hall.
“Is it done?” Sean asked, evading her question.
“It is,” she replied as she glided down the hall towards us. “We will know by midnight if it was successful.”
I glanced at the clock; it was 11:47p.m. – Sophie had narrowly finished in time. Had we stood around squabbling for much longer than we did, Peyta would have had no chance to transition, and would have spent years slowly dying as a result. I shuddered at the thought of it.
“How will we know?” I asked, quietly.
“You won't,” she quipped. “Only I could know such a thing.”
I realized that it wasn't the best moment to call her out on her power trip, so I choked down the insult begging to escape my mouth and asked how she would know.
“I will feel it,” she said, moving closer to Sean.
“You'll feel it? That's it? That's what we're going off of?” I asked, sounding every ounce as doubtful as I felt.
“I don't need to explain myself to you, Anomaly. You matter not in this.”
It took me a moment to realize that the growling sound I heard was coming from my own throat. I looked down in a panic, fearing the worst, but there on my right hand was my platinum band, right where it should have been; Scarlet was in check. The growl was all me.
So was the right hook that followed it.
“I don't matter in this?” I screamed at her as she crashed backwards into the wall. “You've been in it for a couple of hours, I've been swimming in this shit for weeks. That kid is my family, so I'll be damned if you think your skanky ass is gonna walk in here and take over. It'll be over my dead body.”
Sean was restraining me from behind, his hands clamped hard around my biceps. Sophie was rubbing her jaw as I screamed at her hysterically. I wanted to tear her apart yet again, but in fairness, I was projecting anger onto her unjustly. Not all of my emotion revolved around Peyta.
“That can be arranged,” she said finally.
Sean uttered not a single word, but marched me intently down the hall to my room, like a badly behaved child about to be put in timeout.
“Wait here,” he said before closing the door on me, leaving me alone.
I started nervously cleaning, again. He's going to think I have OCD. It was an oddly timed thought but I laughed out loud at it anyways. I always seemed to need to tidy things up when Sean was around; maybe it was a metaphor for my life.
He returned as I crammed a wad of tee shirts into a drawer, struggling to push it closed as I leaned into it with my hip. It gave away suddenly and I crashed into the dresser, bouncing off of it onto the floor. I stayed where I landed, too depressed and exhausted to move.
Sean said nothing at first when he came to join me, sitting next to me as I lay on the floor. Instead he just rubbed the side of his neck repeatedly with his hand as if trying to force the tension out of it. His efforts appeared unsuccessful.
“She feels threatened by you.”
Not really where I expected him to start.
“I'm not condoning her behavior, Ruby, but you need to see where she's coming from,” he told me. “She clings to how things were for us centuries ago. She won't let the past be the past.”
I said nothing, but looked at him blankly. I'd hoped my lack of response would encourage him to explain further. I wanted to know exactly what the deal was between them once and for all and we had at least ten minutes to kill before midnight.
“She won't face reality,” he continued. “It's too hard for her. Her whole identity is wrapped up in who we are, not who she is, what she does.”
“And what exactly is she? What does she do?” I asked, following through the door he'd opened with his remarks.
“The Healers were bred with the specific purpose of serving the PC,” he explained. “Their job is to keep us alive.”
“And she's been with the PC for centuries?”
“Yes.”
“With you for centuries?”
“Yes,” he replied, quietly, running his fingernail along a groove in the hardwood floor repeatedly.
“Then why would you need Peyta?”
“We don't.”
When he pulled his attention away from the southern pine flooring, I gave him a confused look.
“Then what the fuck was all this about tonight? Her genetics have her set to self-destruct if she isn't transitioned, but once she is she has nothing to do?” I asked in total disbelief. “What kind of shit system is that?”
“The shit system is to ensure that we always have Healers to call upon if need be. There is only ever one linked to us, but if something were to happen to her we need other options,” he explained. “Some of them serve willingly, of their own accord. Sophie can’t be everywhere at once.”
I pondered the implications of what he'd said before speaking.
“So she's not immortal?”
“Not exactly,” he replied. “Healers have amazing gifts, but they're fragile. Their lives are entrusted to the PC. It is a sacred bond. As long as she is tied to us, she will live.”
Sacred bond…
“And how exactly is she bonded?” I asked, feeling as though I was getting closer to the crux of the issue.
“She's chosen,” he said, sighing heavily as if preparing for the inevitable.
“And who chooses?”
“The leader of the brothers.”
“So in other words, you?”
He nodded once.
“So you chose Sophie?” I asked, a slap of reality hitting me. “You wanted to be bonded with her. This wasn't put on you at all. You're no victim of circumstance, it's your own fault!” I yelled, scrambling to get off of the floor.
“I had to choose someone and I picked her,” he hissed. “Had I known how things would play out over time, that things would be where they are now, I would have chosen differently.”
“Differently how?” I asked, hovering over him. “If it wasn't her it would just be someone else; nothing would change.” He looked guilty and remorseful at my comment, but said nothing in his defense, just picked nervously again at the floor.
“Or would it?” I asked squatting down to get into his line of sight. “Could it have been different?”
He sighed as he lifted his gaze, his expression haunted.
“When I chose Sophie, I thought I was in love. She was bonded to the PC in a different manner. It tied her not only to the group, but to me in particular, like a marriage. To my kn
owledge it is unchangeable.”
And back to square one again…
“What a fucking nightmare,” I said under my breath.
“I told you I would find a way—”
“Not that,” I snapped. “Being married to her – that would be a nightmare.” I thought I heard him snicker at my sentiment, but when I looked up at him he continued to look pained. “You said something to me once, right before you left to go back to Europe. I want to know exactly what you meant by it,” I told him. “Do you remember?”
“I said a lot of things that night,” he replied. “When I could get a word in edgewise….”
“It was the last thing you said,” I clarified, ignoring his pithy statement.
“If I recall correctly I informed you that you were mine.”
As I opened my mouth to ask my next question, Sophie burst through the door, interrupting us yet again.
“It's midnight,” she said, looking anxious. “The transition period has finished.”
Sean and I shot up from the floor and all but ran to Cooper's room. Sophie opened the door and slowly approached the bed. She placed her hand to Peyta's chest and closed her eyes for a moment. It took only seconds before a smile eased across her face.
“Her transition was successful. She will live,” she said matter-of-factly.
I let out a huge breath as I collapsed forward, catching myself on my knees. She's OK.
Once I regained my composure, I righted myself and walked over to Sophie slowly; I didn't want to spook her after my earlier shenanigans.
“Thank you,” I whispered, unable to look her in the eyes.
“I didn't do this for you,” she said, cocking her head to the side in mocking. “If I had, I'd have failed.”
I glared at her with utter hatred and horror. I had no doubt that she was capable of what she'd said.
“How do I know you haven't?” I asked, spewing the disdain I felt for her back in her face.
“You don't,” she said, smugly. “You can't sense the dead.”
27
“Missing?” I shouted into the phone. “What do you mean she's missing?”
“She hasn't come home, Ruby. Nobody has seen her,” Cooper explained, sounding increasingly frantic. “There's no trace of her at your store, she hasn't been back to the house, and I can't get through to her phone – it goes straight to voicemail like it's been shut off. I'm freaking out, Rubes. This isn't like the other night when she was a few minutes late. She was supposed to be back hours ago.”
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