“I didn’t realize you hadn’t read Jana’s journal until I saw you with it tonight.” She seriously needed to shut her mouth.
“There was never any need. I thought she told me everything. Guess I was wrong.” He turned away, but she could sense the damage to his ego as well as the hurt in his heart.
“Why were Gram’s and Jana’s experiences so different?”
He heaved a deep breath, threw his empty bottle into the recycle bin with enough force to shatter it, and stalked out of the room.
Damn. What had she done?
Judging by the slam of the front door and the subsequent roar of an engine, Patrick wasn’t here anymore. Which meant she’d be traveling the dark halls alone. Wasn’t this what she’d wanted? When she nearly fell asleep while rinsing the dishrag, she figured she might as well get it over with. She turned the ring on her finger as she checked the lock on the back door. Unsure whether or not Patrick would come back, she went ahead and locked the front door. He could use the key hidden under the lawn gnome outside.
The ring warmed as she stepped on the first stair. A sign of trouble, or something else? She didn’t feel as if something was off in the dark spaces ahead. That was a first. In fact, the air was lighter than when this whole thing started.
The trio of faces appeared on the wall and held a finger to triplicate lips as they repeated something in hushed tones before disappearing. Great. By the time she reached the landing, the feeling of wellness shifted into an overwhelming dismay. Sadness filled her. Every step was like trudging through quicksand. If she could stay focused on the door to her room, she’d be fine.
The walls shimmered, turning black, and then a bright white that almost hurt her eyes. Rivulets of deep red blood now flowed from the top of the wall to pool on the carpet. The stench of death overwhelmed her, and large black flies swarmed the pools of blood and stains on the walls. Her stomach protested the foul odor, heaving and filling her mouth with saliva. The carpet turned to broken glass under her bare feet as the floor disappeared behind her.
The sting of the glass slicing through her skin brought tears to her eyes. Only a few more steps until she reached her room. If she lived that long. Guttural screams came from the blood streaming down the walls. She turned her head to the left, bile rising at the mangled, bloody face staring back at her. The mouth was twisted in mocking laughter, revealing the lack of a tongue and deep, festering cuts inside the mouth. The sound of the laughter was as horrifying as the face.
As if she wasn’t already sick to her stomach.
Her brain refused to work with the pain in her feet. The only thing she could think of was the Lord’s Prayer. She began as a murmur, her voice growing louder and stronger as the nightmare faded a bit. By the time she finally reached her bedroom door, her volume nearly drowned out the cacophony.
“Amen.” She made it into her room, the soft carpet cushioning her abused feet. “Fuckers.” She slammed the door, checking the line of salt and herbs Patrick had taped at the doorway, and limped to the bathroom.
~ ~ ~
Patrick was an idiot for leaving. During dinner he had the feeling something terrible was going to happen. And he had to go and get all wussy when faced with the truth and walk out on Alaina when she needed him most. He was a coward.
Alaina’s questions threw the truth he’d denied in his face. Jana hated being a guide. She’d hated a lot of things—their home, his parents, but not him or the child she carried. Did she? He supposed he had always known their relationship was doomed. There was nothing logical about their love. Besides the natural inclination from their heritage, they had nothing in common and were different in every way. Though he did love her. And really, when he considered his options, he knew the only thing he’d change was Jana dying. He still loved her, but things had shifted inside. Instead of Jana’s face, he now saw Alaina’s. That was what really angered him. He didn’t want to feel anything for Alaina.
Squealing the truck to a stop, he smashed his fists on the steering wheel before doing a quick three-point turn. He broke every speed limit on the way back to Alaina’s house, screeching to a stop in the driveway and running for the door.
The front door was locked. He ran around to the kitchen door to find the key Alona kept hidden. He rushed up the stairs after finally getting the door unlocked. Everything seemed quiet—no dread pressed in on him—until he found the trail of blood on the floor outside Alaina’s bedroom.
Heart pounding, he shoved open her bedroom door without knocking. Blood covered the wood floor leading into the bathroom. He called Alaina’s name, but she didn’t answer. He opened the bathroom door. Blood splattered on the white tiles and pooled on the floor. Alaina sat on the toilet with the lid closed, her foot propped on her opposite knee with a pair of tweezers in her hand, blood gushing down her leg and onto the tiles. He rushed to her side, grabbing her cheeks and forced her to look at him. Her face was tear-stained and stressed with pain. He gently kissed her before sitting on the footstool in front of her.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left. This is my fault.” He leaned forward and kissed her again.
She shook her head, tears streaming down her face.
“Here. Let me.” He took the tweezers, mopping up the blood pouring out of her foot with the towel she’d folded underneath.
Her hands shook as she grabbed the towel rack beside her. He plucked out the glass fragments, losing count as each shard dropped into the trash can beside him. His stomach turned. Not because of the blood, but because he’d failed to protect her. He’d walked away when she needed him most—like he’d done to Jana.
Patrick tried to keep the memory away, but with each hunk of glass he removed, it chinked into place. He and Jana had fought over his belief she wasn’t taking care of herself and their child. Before walking away she’d told him she was fine and she knew what she was doing. He’d stormed out—like he’d done tonight—and didn’t return until she was dead.
What bothered him the most was he’d had no sense of dread or impending danger. He should have given the way her personality had changed over the last few weeks and her obsession with finding a way to get out of guiding. He should have figured it out. He was sure he’d find Jana asleep with a note telling him how much she loved him. That was the way things went with them. They rarely argued, and when they did, it was over quickly. Alaina hissed as she sucked in a breath. The pain on her face paused him in his single-minded goal to get the glass out of her foot. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“There’s still a lot of glass to come out, but you need a breather.” There was still her other foot to deal with. This was too much for him to handle.
She nodded, relaxing her grip on the towel rack. Blood dripped to the floor, splashing on his boots and jeans. The towel propped under her other foot was saturated, the blood seeping out from the terry cloth to join with the other puddle. He reached up and wiped the moisture from her face.
“You need to go to the hospital. There’s no way I can get all of this glass out.”
“No. Get it out. I’ll be fine.” She moved her head away from his touch.
“You’re going to bleed to death before I can get it all out. There really isn’t a choice.” He grabbed another towel, tossing it on top of the growing pool of blood.
A howl from the hall made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Whatever did this to her didn’t want her to leave this house. Urgency added to his guilt as he wrapped her feet with clean towels, securing them with the safety pins he’d found in the drawer. Alaina turned her head, her expression one of determination.
“If you’re sure we have to go, we have to be quick getting out of here.” She moved to stand, but he put his hand on her shoulder to stop her.
“You can’t walk.” He picked her up, stopping long enough for her to grab her phone from the top of the dresser. Her sile
nce bothered him despite how much pain he knew she was in.
He deserved her silence and anger. If he’d been here none of this would have happened. Who was he kidding? It could have and probably would have and they’d both be suffering right now. If he didn’t get her out of here, he’d lose her for good.
~ ~ ~
Alaina clenched her teeth against the throb. Her head thumped in time with the pulse in her feet, and logical thinking didn’t seem possible. She blinked up at Patrick when he stopped beside her dresser, finally realizing she’d need her insurance information at the hospital and grabbing her phone.
The way he cradled her body against his was all she could think about. He hadn’t been able to hide his guilt. Not that she was sure he’d tried. She wasn’t sure he realized how easily she could detect his emotions now.
As she turned the doorknob for him, the howling in the hall escalated. Patrick turned sideways to get them through the door without bumping her feet. The same scene she’d endured earlier repeated. Glass crunched under Patrick’s boots. Her body cringed at the sound. The impact registered before she realized something hit them. She tumbled out of Patrick’s arms, falling to the glass on her hands and knees. Anger numbed the pain as she tried to stand on towel-wrapped feet.
Clenching her jaw, she tasted blood, ignoring the sharp pain as she tried to focus enough to walk. Something wet and sticky covered her hand. She didn’t know if it was her blood or the rivers of the stuff running down the walls. Right now she didn’t care; getting out of here was all that mattered.
Patrick grabbed her and swung her up against his chest before she could take another step. Some of her strength returned at his warmth. She wrapped her arms around his neck, adjusting her weight so she was less of a burden to carry.
“The Lord’s Prayer,” she said into his neck, hoping he heard her over the wailing surrounding them.
She couldn’t hear him but knew he repeated the words by the rumble in his chest. The sounds diminished. Alaina closed her eyes when the edges of her vision blurred.
The night air helped clear her senses. Patrick had her buckled in the passenger seat of his truck and was starting the engine before she’d fully processed that they were free of the house. She rolled her head to the side to look at him, her energy gone.
Her hands stung. She saw her feet, wondering how Patrick had wrapped them with paper towels without her realizing. Her pajama pants stuck to her legs. The trip to the hospital didn’t seem to take long, maybe because Patrick drove like a madman. Anxiety rolled off him, but she couldn’t sense any more from him. He picked her up and rushed through the emergency entrance. A nurse with a wheelchair met them at the door, but Patrick refused to put her down. They were rushed to a room, the curtain yanked shut and Patrick pushed aside as soon as he laid her down.
Hands poked and prodded her. Her favorite pajama pants were cut from her body. She didn’t have time to be embarrassed or even try to remember what pair of underwear she wore. A sheet was placed over her, leaving her exposed from the knees down.
“What happened?” a nurse with a clipboard asked her.
Alaina tried to speak but couldn’t form the words.
“One of the windows in her greenhouse detached and shattered on the concrete floor. She didn’t know it until it was too late,” Patrick said. Alaina only hoped she could remember his lie when she was asked again.
Waves of blistering pain exploded through her while Patrick was asked more questions. Her brain felt flat—occupied only by the ache and the need to have him close. Easing his guilt suddenly seemed like the most important thing she could do. Whatever they’d shot through her veins had lessened the pain. Lightness filled her as she saw the similarly dressed bodies working on her knees and feet.
Their inner thoughts and emotions crowded into her conscious with her own feelings. The woman on the right, closest to her head, concentrated on each shard of glass individually. Nothing else filled her thoughts as she worked. The man beside her plotted ways to get back at his cheating wife, going so far as to entertain hooking up with Alaina when she was well after seeing her half-naked. She decided she didn’t like him very much, despite his emotional pain.
Patrick moved to stand by her head. She wanted to reach out to him, but her hands wouldn’t move. The woman working on her left was strongly attracted to Patrick. The swell of jealousy almost made her say something she’d regret when not under the influence of medication. He gently moved the hair from her face and then leaned down to kiss her lips.
“I’m okay.”
Patrick nodded, obviously still unsure. “She’s lost a lot of blood.”
“Tell him I’m going to be fine.”
The woman whose mind centered only on removing the glass smiled. “She has, but we’ve got blood coming. She’s going to be okay. We’re going to stitch the deep ones, though there are a lot of them, give her some antibiotics, and she’ll be good as new. You can probably even take her home tonight.”
Patrick nodded.
Alaina lost track of time. And reality, she supposed. The next thing she knew, she was in a bed in a quiet room. Patrick slept in a chair beside her. He opened his eyes as she tried to move enough to sit up.
“Hey. How’re you doing?” He reached for her, grimacing when he bumped the gauze covering most of her left hand.
“I don’t know. I thought I was going to go home . . . What happened?”
“You finally conked out after the second round of pain medication. There was a lot of glass and they had to give you a lot of blood. The doctor wanted to keep you for observation and give you IV antibiotics because some of the areas already seemed infected. She said you can go home this morning as long as the infection hasn’t worsened. You have a lot of stitches.”
“How many?”
“Dozens. It took hours to get the glass out.”
She leaned against the pillows with a sigh. The thought of returning to Gram’s house, her house, filled her with dread. There was no choice. As much as she hated the job, the fear, and the pain, she had to go back.
Patrick rubbed her arm. “We’ll figure it out.”
“I’ll figure it out. Patrick, you don’t want anything to do with me or this stupid curse. This is what I was trying to say last night. I know you don’t want reminders of Jana. I know it hurts you to have to go through the same things you went through with her again. I don’t expect you to hang around and help me. No hard feelings.” She couldn’t look at him—didn’t want him to see how much it hurt her to say the words. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, willing the tears to stay back.
“I already told you I’m not going anywhere. And it has nothing to do with Jana or some obligation to Alona. I won’t let you handle this on your own. I can’t—”
A nurse entered before he could finish talking. “There’s some paperwork at the nursing station that needs to be filled out before she can be released. If you’ll follow me?” The nurse disappeared through the door without waiting for a response or even checking on Alaina’s wounds.
“I’ll be back. And I’m not going anywhere. No guilt. I mean it.” He winked, melting her nerve endings.
She sighed and leaned against the pillows, glad he was sticking with her. Learning what was expected of her would be hard without his help and support. Though she wouldn’t blame him if he changed his mind and cut his losses.
The door opened again. She turned her head, expecting Patrick. A man wearing a white lab coat grabbed her chart from the hanger near the door. He didn’t greet her or seem to notice her. She couldn’t see his face but didn’t think he’d helped take care of her last night.
“Hi,” she said, after waiting until he flipped the file closed.
He approached the bed with unnatural speed. When his face came into view, Alaina gasped. Under the wavy dark hair was the twisted visage of
a nightmare now reaching for her throat with claw-like hands.
Chapter 8
The nurses at the station shook their heads when he asked about additional paperwork and told him there was no way he would have been asked to fill out anything since he was just a friend and Alaina hadn’t signed a release form. Patrick searched for the nurse who’d given him the summons, but he didn’t see her. Dread crept up his neck as he hurried back to Alaina’s room. The sense of something wrong grew with every step. She screamed as he pushed against the door handle. The door wouldn’t open no matter how hard he pushed. Kicking the door, he ignored the shock on the nurses’ faces and rushed inside.
What hovered over the bed took him by surprise, though he wasn’t entirely sure what he thought he’d find. Alaina’s face was red, her eyes bulging as she clawed at her throat with bandaged hands. Patrick skidded to a stop beside her bed, splashing holy water on the creepy faux doctor.
As soon as he broke its hold on Alaina, it dissipated, swirling into dark mist and evaporating into the air high above the bed. Alaina gasped, her bandaged hands going to her throat.
“Let me see.” He gently pushed her hands away, angry red marks surrounding her neck.
“I’ve never felt so much hate before. Why would he hate me so much?” She trembled, fat tears trailing down her cheeks. At this rate she’d break soon.
He wiped the tears away with his thumb, turning her face. “It’s not you, it’s what you represent. We have to finish this.”
“I’m glad you’re not leaving.” Her voice was quiet.
“You can’t get rid of me.” Guilt nearly crushed him. Again he’d proven he was a failure at keeping her safe. He also realized, without the protection he offered, Alaina was an open target. No wonder he’d been lured away. It didn’t matter that he didn’t want the connection with Alaina. There was one. Same as she had no choice about taking over for Alona, whether she wanted to or not.
She touched his face, spreading her fingers over his cheek. “You have to forgive yourself, Patrick.” She pushed the covers back and swung her legs out of bed. “I’m out of here. We have work to do.”
The Shadow Guide (Challenging the Fates) Page 12
