I’d done the same to her. But it didn’t explain why I’d tumbled into a dream and dragged Gareth in with me.
“Sierra,” Gareth said, tapping my elbow. “You’re hurt.”
“Yeah, I am.” Peculiar that I’d felt his touch on my arm and even on my face when he’d roused me from wherever I’d tumbled, but nothing else.
“I think that’s why you called.” His long lashes stood out every time he blinked, never removing his intense gaze from mine.
“Why would I call you when I’m hurt?” That didn’t make any sense. So much of what was going on lately made no fucking sense.
He lowered his eyes and said, “Probably because I can heal you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I found out by accident.”
“Gareth, what’re you on about?” I felt like a useless lump, lying with my arms at my sides and legs stretched out but unable to move.
He pushed off the bed and headed for the window. “I don’t know how—or even why—it happened, but tonight I was the first officer to a domestic call. A man beat up his wife pretty badly and when the kid tried to stop him, he hit him too.” The muscles of his back rippled beneath his T-shirt. “It was an awful scene, and one I hate to admit happens too often.”
“What happened?”
“Backup arrived shortly after I’d cuffed the man, so the other officers took him away. When I went to check on the woman before the paramedics arrived, she asked me to look at her son first.” Gareth turned to face me. “The kid had to be six years old, and he’d knocked his head on the floor pretty hard. He was unconscious and I could tell what was wrong with him. The head trauma was going to kill him. So for some reason I’ll never be able to explain, I cradled the kid, pressed my hand to the top of his head and…”
“Gareth, tell me what you did.” I couldn’t believe this.
“Both of them were taken to the hospital for observation, but the kid had a mild concussion.”
“I thought you said he—”
“Yes, he was dying, but after I touched him”—he regarded his hands—“he was fine.”
“You’re a healer.”
He shook his head. “Why would I be able to do this now when I haven’t done it before?”
“Jonathan was a healer. When he died, someone else was bound to surface.”
“But it’s been months. Why now?”
“I don’t know the answer to that, but I can tell you that because you were possessed by a demon for months, it probably numbed your ability. After we exorcised him, you must have…” My voice trailed off when the stabbing pain shot into my chest.
“Sierra, what’s wrong?” Gareth raced to my side and sat close.
“I think you’re right.” My insides felt like they were shriveling up. “You need to help me.”
“What do I do?”
“Touch me.”
“I never thought I’d hear you say that to me.”
He was right, none of this made any sense. But if he was a healer and could remove the unbearable agony seizing my chest and spreading into my stomach, I needed him to touch me. My body felt as if I was being eaten from the inside out. The wakh ichor had to be tearing me up now that I was elsewhere.
“Just. Do. It.” I grit my teeth together.
Gareth pressed a hand over my chest and opened his palm. The contact caused a warm sensation to seep into me, and reminded me of when Jonathan healed me after Maya’s attack. My spine curved off the mattress.
“Am I hurting you?”
I closed my eyes as the excruciating ache tore my body apart.
Gareth ran the fingertips of his other hand over my face and neck. When he grazed my shoulder I felt a stabbing sensation that tore a scream out of my mouth. I could feel the repair working and it hurt like a son of a bitch, and had me panting for breath.
“Don’t go into panic mode.”
Easy for him to say—he wasn’t lying motionless on the bed while a wave of lava burned though his body trying to fix everything that was wrong. The severity of my condition made my pulse speed.
I couldn’t seem to suck enough oxygen into my lungs and felt like I was going to stop breathing at any second.
“Sierra,” Gareth whispered. His face was so close I could see the dark whiskers on his face and chin. “Don’t be upset about what I’m about to do, but I think it’s the only way.”
I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. Well, until his mouth covered mine and he kissed me. The feather-light touch of his lips made me squirm, yet the soothing heat flowed into my mouth and down my throat. He’s healing me from the inside out.
Gareth caressed my face with one hand and kept the other against my chest. Such an intimate position on a bed where we’d had dream sex should bother me, but it didn’t because I understood why he was doing this.
He pulled back and asked, “Did that help?”
I nodded, wishing he hadn’t stopped. I felt lethargic and not fully recovered, but managed to lift my arm enough to apply pressure to the back of his head.
“Did I heal you?”
“You did more than that.” When our mouths collided, I kissed him back. I felt like a hypocrite, but couldn’t deny the way my body recuperated as his lips moved in tandem with mine.
“Gareth…” I closed my eyes and when I opened them found myself lying in my bed, alone. The pressure of Gareth’s hand on my body dissipated, but the feel of his mouth endured. I licked my lips, feeling like the worst kind of person for enjoying this. But strangely, I didn’t feel I’d done anything wrong.
His healing touch and kiss helped me survive—I was sure of it.
I sat up, stretched my arms over my head, and everything seemed to be working. Every bit of pain was gone. After being temporarily paralyzed, it felt wonderful to move my limbs. I dangled my legs over the side of the bed and touched my right shoulder, unsure of what I’d find but my fingers touched a clean T-shirt. My left hand was bandaged and crusty with the ichor that had leached out of me. I unwound it and checked my hand, glad to see the bolt’s piercing was gone and the Hecate’s Wheel tattoo was intact.
When I glimpsed my reflection in the mirror, I winced. With my knotty hair falling over my face, the dark circles under my eyes and white tee, I resembled a horror-movie ghost. The flash of pink from my eyes confirmed my connection was restored. My hand started to itch, but I didn’t have any pockets so I lifted the hem of the T-shirt and found a small piece of paper hooked to my panties like a stripper tip. I pulled it out and with shaky fingers opened it to reveal, Glad to see you’re still part of the living, scrawled in Saul’s usual handwriting.
I spotted my weapons sitting on top of the dresser, along with my keys and mobile. I dumped the note and bandage on there and headed for the bathroom, yanking off my tee and undies. I stepped into the shower making the water as hot as I could.
Thoughts of poisoned blood, neon pink and Gareth’s intimate healing filled my mind as I shampooed and conditioned my hair. After towel-drying myself, I wandered back into my bedroom and put on clean underwear and a bra before stepping into a pair of black leggings and slipping a baggy hoodie over my head. I wasn’t in the mood for dressing up—just wanted to feel comfortable before heading downstairs.
The hum of conversation echoed from the kitchen as I ambled along the hallway. I recognized Oren’s and Saul’s voice, plus…no, it couldn’t be. I quickened my step and strolled into the warm room, causing the murmuring to cease.
My eyes rested on the one person I hadn’t expected to see. It is him! “Papan…” Was he really sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee between his hands? Or had I just fallen into another dream?
He pushed the chair back, closed the distance between us and swept me off my feet. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it.” He kissed my hair, face and mo
uth before placing me back on the floor to cup my face with his big hands. “I was so worried, we all were.”
“Papan, how did you get out?”
The concern gave him a weathered edge that darkened his eyes and shadowed his skin. But he was wearing different clothes, so something had changed since the incident.
“So much has happened during the last twenty-four hours.”
“What?” Surely I hadn’t been unconscious for so long. I glanced out the window and it was dark outside. What had happened to Willow in the meantime, and how did Papan sort out the murder charges? I looked around the kitchen, hoping to find my sister.
“Foxy, you had a seizure.” Papan avoided my gaze. “I thought you were going to…” He lowered his hands and led me to sit at the kitchen table. “Come on, you need a cup of coffee.”
“I’ll get it.” Saul stood and headed for the coffee machine.
“Sierra, you nearly died.” Oren vacated the chair he’d been sitting on to move next to me. He hugged me and kissed the top of my head. He had a gash on his left cheek. “I tried every potion and spell I could think of, but nothing worked.”
I pointed at his face. “What happened to you?”
He blinked several times before answering. “I was attacked.”
“That’s when they got Willow?”
Oren lowered his eyes. “Yes.”
“How?”
He sat, but wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Willow and Michael wanted to go to the library, even after I told them it was a bad idea. So we went to the one up the road, under cloak.”
The library wasn’t far from my house, so what had gone wrong?
“When we got there, I watched over the kids while they found their study guides. Everything was fine, until they didn’t return to their seats. I found Michael passed out between the bookshelves.” Oren frowned. “I rushed out of the library in time to catch Duff shoving Willow into a car. The bastard took her.”
“He’s not alone,” I said. “Jacinta was inside that car.”
“I know, Saul told me.” He patted my shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Sierra. I shouldn’t have let her out of my sight for even a moment.”
“It’s not your fault.” This wasn’t a time for laying the blame on anyone.
Papan pushed several strands of wet hair behind my ear and kissed my cheek. “We’ll help you find Willow.” He took my hand and threaded his fingers with mine. “Though you always manage to find your way back to her.”
Since meeting my half-sister only months ago, she’d surrendered to a Lamia to keep the rest of us safe, had stowed away inside a van to help Michael, and was now in the custody of her paternal grandmother. I’d gotten her home safely before—could I do the same again?
“So you remember everything?” Saul asked, dumping a steaming oversized mug of coffee in front of me. He was dressed in a clean white shirt and tailored pants, the jacket hung over the back of a chair.
“I remember.” I nodded, thinking of Diana. “Is she here?”
“She had other places to be, other people to help.” Saul shrugged. “She hardly stays in one spot for long.”
“Diana tried to save me, but it didn’t work.”
“No, it didn’t.” He looked me up and down, scrutinizing me. “But you’re alive and kicking. Where did you go?”
“I met our new healer.” I didn’t particularly feel like telling anyone what Gareth had done to save my life, but I did owe all of them an explanation, especially Papan. Now wasn’t the time. I’d wait until we were alone. “Why don’t you tell me what she is?”
Saul hesitated for several seconds. “Diana isn’t connected to Hecate the way we are, she’s actually her physical conduit into this patch. So the Goddess tried to possess you via Diana.” He sat across the kitchen table, his blue eyes blazing. “But it didn’t work because you expelled her.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“Sierra, you rejected her.”
“I said I didn’t—”
“You don’t understand what I’m trying to tell you. You’re strong enough to withstand possession.”
“That’s not true.” I shook my head. “I invited a multitude of shadows and phantasms inside me. That’s possession in my book.”
“No, it’s not.” Saul sat back in his chair. “You invite them in so you can destroy them. There’s a big difference.”
I didn’t know how to respond, so I grabbed my mug and took a sip of coffee, enjoying the feel of the warm liquid sliding down my throat. I even plucked a Tim Tam.
“Papan, how did you get out of jail?” I asked between bites.
Papan offered a lopsided smile. “Saul got me out.”
“Sheila came through for us,” the demon said with a smile. “She went to the police, asked to speak to your friend Gareth and gave a statement.”
“Does that mean I have to do the same?”
“No,” Saul said, shaking his head. “She didn’t mention you or the diner. Claimed she was in the city at the time of Henry’s shooting and witnessed it there.”
“Really, and they believed her?”
“There was no reason not to. Henry was found in that spot, and she even described the shooter. So well they had a composite sketch of Anna Smith within minutes. When ballistics confirmed her fingerprints were on the murder weapon, they found her in the system.”
“How did Shapiro take it?”
Saul met my gaze. “By the time I got to the station, Shapiro was hospitalized for exhaustion. He’s also suffering from a bad case of amnesia. He doesn’t remember anything about Papan’s arrest. Burns is leading the case.”
“So you’ve been exonerated?”
Papan’s dimples appeared when he smiled. “That’s right.”
“The charges were dropped,” Saul added.
“I know what happened to the detective,” I said.
“Oh yeah?” Papan cocked an eyebrow.
“Narelle bit Shapiro and was manipulating him.” I took another sip from my cup. “Turns out she was behind all of that vampire crap we went through a few months back. She was manipulating everything, but I don’t know what she did with Conrad.”
“So that’s why Shapiro smelled like vamp!”
There was a knock on the door and Saul jumped to his feet.
“Are you hungry?” Papan asked, leaning close. “We ordered pizza.”
“I guess…” My stomach betrayed me by growling, even after so much chocolate.
Papan smiled but his attention was temporarily sidetracked when Saul charged into the kitchen with three boxes of pizza. He took two from Saul and went about placing them on the table.
I turned to Oren and leaned close enough to say, “Are you okay?”
“Not until we find Willow.”
“We will.” Though I had a feeling Jacinta would be so pissed about missing her chance to strip my power that she would strike sooner than later.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Oren said.
“Me too.”
“Aren’t you two going to eat?” Papan asked, through a mouthful of pizza.
It didn’t take long to devour the pizzas, mostly in silence. We all had personal thoughts to sort out. I was relieved to have survived to live another day, and that Papan was a free man. I was also more determined than ever to tidy up all the loose ends.
When I started yawning, Papan suggested we get some sleep so we could get an early start looking for Willow. He led me to the bedroom and closed the door. When he stripped my clothes and laid me out on the bed, he claimed this time it was all about me.
But there was something on my mind, a confession I needed to make before we went any further. So I said, “Papan, I need to tell you something…” And told him about the poison-tipped bolts, what happened in Diana’s car, and how I ended up meeting Gareth in a dre
am. When I told him about the healing kiss, my pulse quickened and I expected the worst.
Papan was silent for a few moments before meeting my eyes and saying, “I appreciate your honesty. I don’t like the thought of you kissing some other bloke, even in your dreams, but if it helped save your life…” He brushed his lips against mine, then pulled back. “Gareth might have something to worry about, though.”
“It was just a dream—”
“Yeah, it was.” He kissed his way down to my abdomen. “But what I’m about to do now is very real.”
Papan didn’t lie, every sensation he roused made my senses come alive. I enjoyed every minute of it.
After we were done, it didn’t take us long to fall asleep.
I awoke still wrapped up in Papan’s arms, and glad I hadn’t met Gareth in my dreams. I wasn’t sure what had woken me, so I’d snuggled against Papan’s warm, naked body, hoping to get back to sleep. But after hours of trying, clearly it wasn’t going to happen. I slipped out of bed and put my clothes back on.
It was dark outside and my alarm clock said it was three in the morning. I felt antsy and uneasy. I needed to do something. Waiting had never been one of my strongest virtues. Now that I was awake and Papan was home, all I wanted to do was find Willow.
The archive closet caught my attention.
I leaned over and kissed Papan’s forehead. “I love you so much,” I whispered, before heading for the closet. I unlocked the door and stepped inside. The contents were already shoved aside, so I continued past the opening in the wall and made my way down the concrete stairs.
The hidden rectangular room was cold. The cupboards along the back wall remained thick with dust, but some of the candles piled into the crevices were lit. Oren must have been here earlier. He knew I didn’t mind as long as the bedroom was empty and Willow didn’t find out. But of course, Willow wasn’t here.
Maybe there was a spell or a way to scry for lost sisters in one of Grandma’s books.
My vision blurred with tears, causing the candlelight to become one big ball of light.
Why couldn’t things stop falling apart? Just when I thought I had a grasp on everything, someone else was ripped away. Or a new nemesis revealed itself. Would it always be like this?
A Stitch on Time 5 Page 24
