Burning Darkness

by Jaime Rush

  He dropped his head, giving her a look. “Are you mothering me?”

  Wow, she was. “You look like you’re going to drop. If you do, there’s no way I can drag your heavy self to the truck. I’ll have to leave you here with the ghosts.”

  He smirked and then stretched out beside her. She did watch him, watched his body strain, the sweat pop out on his forehead and the veins engage in his neck. No, not watched; hovered. She didn’t like the way he looked. He was worrying her, mother hen or not.

  He opened his eyes, though only about halfway. “I saw a few guys watching the area. They definitely think my people are in the house somewhere.” His voice sounded so soft she could hardly hear him. His eyes drifted shut again.

  “Eric.” She shook his shoulder but he didn’t budge. His shirt was damp, his body hot. “Eric, wake up.” She heard the fear in her voice.

  He was pale, yet burning up. His face and neck were covered in a sheen of perspiration. His eyes fluttered beneath his closed lids but didn’t open. His mouth moved as though he were trying to say something.

  She leaned close, so close his heat enveloped her ear and cheek. “What? I can’t hear you.”

  All she could hear was his exhalation of breath.

  “If you’re tricking me because of the ghosts remark, you win. I’m freaked. Wake up, so I can find Westerfield.”

  She hoped he was making her pay for the snide remark she’d made, since she couldn’t admit she was worried about him.

  He still didn’t wake. She straddled him, her hands on his shoulders, and tried to shake him. “Eric, please. Don’t do this. Don’t leave me.” The fear at that sucked her breath away. She’d made light of it, but she couldn’t leave him here. “Eric!” Fear tore at her voice, stretching it taut as it echoed off the gravestones. She beat on his chest, her eyes stinging with heat. “Eric!”

  Nothing. She leaned down to his heart, listening. Yes, still beating. But his mind was gone. Even his eyes weren’t moving anymore. “Eric . . .” This time the word poured out in an agonized breath. “Don’t leave me alone. I can’t do this without you.” She fell on him, sucking in deep breaths, rising and falling with his own breathing.

  She sat up again. Do something. She dug into his pocket where he kept his cell phone and went down his list of contacts. Names she recognized, people she’d targeted, but she’d never spoken to any of them. He seemed close to Lucas. She dialed his number and waited for what seemed forever for him to answer.

  “What’s up?” he said.

  Her words slammed together like a train wreck. “It’s Fonda. Something’s wrong with Eric. He was really tired, and his eyes started being dilated a few days ago, and last night he was burning up, and he just remote-viewed your Tomb and now he won’t come back, and I don’t know what to do!” She could hardly catch her breath.

  “Dammit. Blue Moon is breaking him down.”

  “Magnus offered him the antidote, but Eric didn’t want to lose his abilities.”

  “Give him a few minutes to come out. I had these storms that would wipe me out for fifteen minutes at a time. Maybe that’s what he’s going through, too. Then he can decide if he wants to take the antidote.”

  “He said you took it, right? And you’re okay?”

  She heard Lucas’s bitter laugh. “It was given to me,” he clarified. “I don’t know if I’m okay or not. It’s only been a few days.”

  She was watching Eric the whole time. “It’s worth it if it saves him, isn’t it? Even if he loses his abilities?” Her voice caught. “I don’t want him to die. If you care about him, if you love him, wouldn’t you do whatever it takes to save him? The way he talks about you, all of you, I know he’d do anything to save you. That’s how you people are. I know the things you’ve done for each other.”

  Lucas exhaled. “Yeah. That’s what we do.”

  “You’ve risked your lives for each other. You risked getting caught to warn Amy because you loved her that much. Tell me, Lucas. In my position, with Eric dying before my eyes, what would you do?”

  Silence for a moment. Then his quiet voice. “I’ll give you Magnus’s number.”

  She released a breath. Not exactly permission, but close enough. “I have it. Oh, and Eric said there are several men watching your place. I have to go.”

  Eric groaned and opened his eyes. They were even more dilated, the pupils as big as his irises. He tried to sit up, and she grabbed at his hands and pulled him the rest of the way.

  He was back. Her heart soared.

  “Get away from me,” he said in a gravelly voice.

  “What?” Was he possessed by Sayre? No, Sayre wouldn’t be sending her away. He’d be attacking her.

  “Get away from me.” His voice was harsher now. “Take the truck and go.”

  “I was kidding about leaving you here.”

  He buried his face in his hands and shook his head. “Get the hell away from me. Now. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She thought of his mother setting herself on fire, the nightmare she’d had. He was spiraling down into a dark place.

  She scooted closer and leaned next to his face. “Eric, get in the truck. I’ll take you to Magnus. He’ll give you the antidote.”

  “I’m not going in the truck with you.” He shoved her away, got up and staggered a few feet before gripping one of the gravestones for support. “I don’t want to be anywhere near you. Go to Magnus. He’ll take care of you.”

  “Eric!”

  He spun around again, wavering. “Do you want me to torch you? Remember how it felt, how horrible it was when it happened to Jerryl? I could do that to you. Is that what you want?” The snarl on his face matched his words. He was using her pain over Jerryl and her fear over what happened on purpose.

  He pushed on, away from her. She went after him, and he spun around and gave her a look so acidic, so psychotic, she gasped. He continued walking toward the line of trees beyond the cemetery, his every step leaden.

  She let him go, her body so full of fear, for and of him, she couldn’t move for a second. “Fine! Go, you son of a bitch! Go off and die!”

  He did, stepping into the woods, holding onto a pine tree trunk for balance and then moving forward again.

  Her breath came in heaving gulps. For over two months she’d lived for the moment when he died. Now that could happen without her doing a thing.

  Except everything was different. She couldn’t find a speck of anger anywhere in her psyche toward him. Especially since he was pushing her away for her own safety.

  She had lived her whole life in self-preservation mode. Tangling with Eric was dangerous in more ways than one. She could die a most horrible death. She could watch yet another man she cared about die a horrible death.

  You care about him. You care, and not because he’s protecting you, not because he saved your ass more than once, and not because he’s sexy as hell. And as much as that scares you, letting him die would be far worse than anything you can imagine, anything you’ve gone through.

  She snapped out of it and fumbled with his phone, finding Magnus on the list.

  “Magnus?” she whispered when a man answered.

  “Yes. Who’s this?”

  “Fonda. I need your help. Eric’s gone over the edge.”

  The world was spinning. All around Eric, trees swayed and spun in circles, and he had to keep holding onto them. He had waited too long.

  He dropped to the ground, his legs giving out. Crap, if he set himself on fire here, he’d send up the whole forest. Good move, Aruda.

  He already felt as though he were on fire. He managed to lift his head to make sure. No, not yet. He looked beyond, and though his vision was getting blurry, he saw that Fonda hadn’t followed him in. Either she was smart, or he’d put her off. Either way, she was safe from him. He hated that he couldn’t protect her anymore. With the Rogues trapped, they couldn’t either. Magnus would. He had to believe that.

  He remembered Lucas’s fever after they’d rescue
d him, how Amy had watched over his every breath as she tried to keep him cool. Then he saw Fonda in his mind’s eye, standing in the cemetery, fear in her eyes. Fear for him. Maybe she cared a little. That was the last thought he had before he succumbed to the darkness.

  Lucas disconnected the phone and turned to the others, who were all waiting for news. He told them about Eric’s situation. “Fonda’s arranging to get him the antidote.”

  He saw Amy’s surprised expression. “Is that why you offered to give her Magnus’s number?”

  He nodded, his gaze on her. “It’s his only hope. She cares about him. She’s scared and desperate and doesn’t want him to die. She reminded me that sometimes we have to take risks to save the ones we love.” He stepped closer to her, and everyone else in the room fell away in his consciousness. He saw only Amy’s green eyes, filled with a different kind of desperation—and love. “She asked me if it was worth taking the chance. Even if he loses his abilities. I saw it from her side. Your side. If you were dying, I’d do anything to save you.” He put his hand on her cheek, and she leaned into it. He saw all the pain she’d experienced because of his stubborn anger. “I’m sorry I put you through that. I’m sorry I punished you for it.”

  She leaned forward and kissed him, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed seeing her smile.

  He rubbed away her tears with his thumbs. “And I didn’t lose my ability to get into people’s dreams. I poked into yours last night for a second. Just to test it.”

  Her smile grew even wider. “Maybe you could come again tonight, and stay longer.”

  “How about we spend some time together in person instead?”

  Fonda walked toward the line of trees where Eric had gone. She couldn’t hear footsteps anymore. Please don’t have gone far. As unbalanced as he’d been, she doubted he could physically make it very far. She quietly stepped into the woods. Her heart sank when she saw him on the ground. Her body strained to run to him, but she needed to stay near the cemetery when Magnus got there.

  Eric’s phone rang. Magnus! No, not the same number she called. She stepped away so Eric wouldn’t hear her and answered.

  “How’s Eric?” a frantic female voice asked.

  “Not good.” Fonda’s throat tightened on those words. “Who’s this?”

  “Petra, his sister.”

  Fonda pictured the tall, beautiful blonde from the pictures she’d seen. By the pain in her voice, she imagined Petra’s face contorted in fear.

  “Magnus is coming with the antidote.”

  “If I were there, I could heal him. Dammit, I’ve got to get out of here.”

  A woman in the background said, “No, you couldn’t. Even if you were with him, you’d die trying.”

  Petra’s words broke when she said, “Please don’t let my baby brother die. I love him so much.”

  Her words and agony grabbed Fonda’s heart as painfully as Westerfield could. She hadn’t even realized she’d walked closer to Eric. He was curled up on his side, fingers in tight fists, eyes squeezed shut. His breaths were shallow and rapid.

  “I won’t,” she whispered.

  The sound of tires on gravel snapped up her head. “Magnus is here. I’ve got to go. I’ll keep in touch.”

  She disconnected and broke out of the woods in a run, her gaze going to both brothers getting out of a newer truck. Magnus carried a small box.

  She rushed over to meet him. “He’s over there. Come.”

  Lachlan followed at a short distance. “What’s his state of mind? I don’t want him burning me up.”

  “He told me to stay away from him. He didn’t want me hurt. But now he’s out of it.”

  Magnus lifted the box. “We’d better give this to him while we can.”

  “I can do it if you want to stay at a safe distance,” Fonda said. “I’ve never given an injection but I’ve seen people do it.”

  “Let her do it,” Lachlan said, remaining several yards back. “If she wants to risk her life for him, fine. We’ve lost enough because of these people.”

  Magnus turned to him, his expression hard. “We lost our father because of our father. He was the one who introduced this to innocent people, whether on purpose or not. He kept ingesting it without knowing what it really was. Blaming is not going to solve anything.” He faced forward and kept walking. “I’ll do it. If he starts thrashing, you’ll need muscle power to hold him down.”

  That thought was startling.

  Eric was still on his side. Magnus knelt down beside him and took out the syringe. Those had only represented evil to her, or just plain pain when given in a doctor’s office. Now it could be Eric’s salvation.

  Or not.

  Would Eric be as bitter as Lucas or Lachlan seemed to be? Would he hate her for disobeying his orders to let him die alone? None of that mattered as much as the worry that this antidote might do him more harm than good. She put her hands on Eric’s shoulder as Magnus injected the bluish fluid into his vein. Eric’s heat made her palms sweat within seconds. He contorted, his eyes fluttering open, his body tensing. He grabbed her arm and squeezed hard, not realizing what he was doing. Magnus tried to pry his fingers off her but she shook her head. “It’s okay.”

  The pain felt good but for a different reason: it drowned out the pain inside.

  Eric took a sharp breath, like when Westerfield had him at the flea market.

  “Is this normal?” she asked, never taking her eyes off Eric.

  “There is no normal. Lachlan did his fair share of this, though, and then he slept for twenty-four hours. It was touch and go during that time. He would burn up, then be cold, then scream out as though someone was tearing out his soul. Then fall into something deeper than sleep. When he woke, he was fine.”

  “Except for my abilities being gone,” Lachlan added.

  She flicked a glance at him, though her gaze went back to Eric. “You guys are so worried about losing your freaking abilities, like they’re part of your identity or manhood. Would you rather have died?”

  “As a matter of fact, I would have,” Lachlan said.

  Eric’s body went lax. She put her ear next to his chest and listened. Please, be there.

  Yes, a heartbeat.

  “Lachlan,” Magnus said, “help me carry him to the truck.”

  Would Eric rather die than lose his abilities? She had to hope he had more to live for than that. His people. His sister, who loved him so much.

  Not her, of course.

  The men lifted Eric up with a groan of effort. She put her hands on his back to lend support. His shirt was soaked and his body still super heated. Heat meant alive, though.

  They laid him in the back of their truck. Magnus, she presumed, had thoughtfully laid out a sleeping bag on the bed’s surface. She climbed in next to Eric.

  Magnus said, “Stay low. We don’t want to attract any unnecessary attention.”

  Lachlan got into the truck they’d been using, and Magnus drove his truck. She stretched out beside Eric, her face at his neck, and breathed him in, earth, the musky scent of hot sweat. She slid her finger up to the pulse point under his jaw and counted his heartbeats.

  Chapter 18

  Fonda looked at the clock in the guest bedroom for the hundredth time. If this lasted twenty-four hours, there were twenty more agonizing ones to go. If this antidote worked the same as the others.

  A big if.

  She had let the Rogues know when they reached the compound but didn’t tell them it was a different formula. No need to worry them yet. She’d take that on herself.

  She sat by the bed and kept dabbing a cold washcloth over Eric’s body. She had stripped off his clothes, telling herself he wasn’t modest. Besides, he didn’t like sleeping in clothing, and he was going to be sleeping for a long time. The sheet covered his pelvis area, but the rest of him was exposed to the cool air in the room. Amy had told her that’s what she’d done when Lucas went through the same thing.

>   Eric hadn’t moved, not so much as a flicker under his eyelids. Not a moan or an exhalation. He was as still as stone, except for the gentle rise and fall of his chest and for his pulse, which she kept checking.

  The room was sparse, clean, done in light earth colors with a king-sized bed in the center and a dresser along one wall. A large window let in the sun and the bright greenery outside. She hardly looked at it.

  Magnus appeared at the open doorway. “How’s he doing?”

  “No change. I don’t know whether that’s good or not.” She hoped he would provide a clue. He must have watched Lachlan; he had endured this, too, though he probably didn’t remember much.

  He stepped inside and passed his hand a few inches above Eric’s body. “Still burning up. Lachlan’s temperature swung back and forth, so when Eric starts to shiver and get chill bumps, cover him and push up the thermostat. Like someone with a flu fever, you need to keep his body temperature as even as possible. He’ll likely thrash around, so be careful as he’ll have no idea what he’s doing, and you could get hurt.”

  Lachlan hovered in the doorway.

  In a hard voice, Fonda said, “He hasn’t died yet.” She didn’t want Lachlan’s negative energy impacting Eric’s healing.

  “I don’t want him to die. I just want him to lose his abilities, is all.” He smiled. “Just because he’s such an arrogant son of a bitch.”

  “Get out.”

  He raised a thick eyebrow at her. “You’re telling me what to do in my own home? And you the guest, an uninvited one at that?”

  “Lachlan, please,” Magnus said, not even looking at him. “They are invited, by me.”

  Fonda looked at Magnus. “The antidote you gave to Eric. Why didn’t your father use that one on you? What made him develop it further?”

  Lachlan answered with a smug smile. “The mouse went into convulsions and died.”

  Her gaze flew back to Magnus. “Is that true? You gave that to Eric?”

  Magnus shook his head. “Well, it is true that the mouse died, but we don’t think it was the antidote that killed it, not as a whole. She—my father always called them by gender—had a reaction to an element in the antidote. Two other mice died, and my father went on to develop a different version that didn’t use that exact compound. I don’t know what he changed in it, but he felt the previous version wouldn’t harm humans. Still, he didn’t want to take a chance.”