Forgotten

by Lisa Phillips

  “I can try.”

  No.

  Daire’s body twisted and he landed on his knees. Pain sliced through him like a thousand knives. “Ben. Go!”

  He sucked in a lungful of air and reached for the sword. He lifted it. No. It was angled down. He needed to adjust his grip so—

  His hand twisted. The sword tip moved toward him, pointed at his ribs.

  “Daire!”

  The muscles in his arm were so tight it felt as though it had turned to stone. He willed the hand to drop, but it only moved toward him.

  The tip of his sword penetrated the skin. It pushed into muscle between his ribs. Pain tore through his torso.

  Ben dropped to his knees and cried out. Daire couldn’t make out the words. His own hand pushed at the sword until it stuck out his back. Until the hilt pressed against his chest.

  Only then did his hand drop.

  The last thing he heard was the druid’s mocking laughter. The edges of his vision blinked with black spots, and unconsciousness threatened to swallow him.

  “Bryn.”

  Knees hit the dirt beside him, and then Ben’s hands held him upright. “She’s outside. I called for Life Flight. Do we need it for you, as well?”

  “Where…”

  “He’s gone.” Ben’s voice shook. “Turned into a fox right in front of me and scurried away. Now we have to get you outside.”

  Malachi muttered in low tones as he sat up.

  “We need to get this out.” Ben reached for the hilt of the sword.

  Daire lifted his hands. More black spots. He nearly keeled over from the new rush of pain just from that small movement. Before he could black out, Daire clutched the hilt with both hands and pulled it.

  “Dai—”

  “Shut up.” He yelled it. Gritted his teeth and poured all the frustration and pain into his voice as the sword slid free. Not really meaning it, but needing to yell. And having sworn off more than minor curses, he was having trouble trying to find something to say that adequately covered...

  The sword dropped to the ground, blood mixing with dirt.

  Daire up coughed saliva and blood. His body curled over, bent with the pain. He let it all out in one frustrated moan.

  “How are you still conscious?”

  He wanted to argue it would take more than his sword to bring him down, but held his tongue. God, forgive me. So much pride. And what had he achieved? Nothing. The druid was back.

  Daire wasn’t going to be able to face him again until the hole in his chest was healed. Not to mention any infection he’d probably get along with it.

  He didn’t sit up, or lift his head. “Help me up.”

  Ben and Malachi carried him outside. Daire drifted in and out of consciousness, his body finally getting the upper hand. Determined to shut down in order to heal.

  He blinked and realized he was on his back, staring up at the sky. Wind whipped the air. For a moment he thought the druid had returned to destroy them completely.

  A helicopter landed, and after that were sirens. A local Sheriff’s department Jeep. A stretcher. The sound of CPR being done. She needs blood. Daire couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.

  He fell into the dream then, and found himself standing beside a river.

  Birds chirped their song. A raven landed on a rock on the far side of the stream.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  Daire turned to the source. A man, black hair as dark as the raven’s feathers. Had he been asked to describe the man’s face, Daire would not have been able to recall his appearance. If he even was a man.

  The stranger looked out over the water. “Are you ready to listen now?”

  Chapter 23

  Bryn awoke in a hospital bed. Visions of that cellar. The blood. All of it washed over the white walls around her. The wool blanket, and the steady beep of machines.

  She couldn’t move. Her entire body felt like lead. Not paralyzed, but drained. Every ounce of strength and energy she had, and might ever hope to have, dripped out of her.

  The door opened and a man strode in. White coat, a tablet in one arm. “You’re awake.”

  Her brain refused to even form a word, let alone get it past her mouth.

  “Had quite an ordeal, didn’t you?” His smile was nice, but she didn’t know him. The doctor stood by her bed. Within reach, but not too close. He was an older man. Heavy set. Tanned in a way he’d clearly made it his mission to get as much sun—or sun bed—time as possible. “Now I want you to rest. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll have a nurse come and check on you in a minute, see if you need anything.”

  Bryn could blink. That was about it.

  “You lost almost all the blood you had. Certainly more than you could stand to lose. We replaced it, but it’s a tricky process and the recovery is slower than you think.” He paused. “You should know, the police are here. It’s policy to contact them in an incident such as this. Given you were clearly attacked.”

  She must have reacted somehow, because he lifted both hands. Still holding the tablet tight to his side now with his elbow.

  “There’s no way you’re able to talk to them now. You’re only half awake, but I assume you understand me at least.”

  She blinked again.

  “Good.” He smiled politely. “They can wait a week for all I care. They’re not getting in here until you have the strength to talk for at least five minutes.”

  Fatigue washed over her like a wave and she felt herself falling. Panic rolled in with the tide.

  The doctor set a hand on her shoulder. “Whatever happened, I can’t even imagine. But you’re safe now. Okay?”

  She wanted to ask how she got here. Where was Daire? She remembered him being there, and some others. His team? There had been shouting.

  Time drifted like clouds across the sky.

  She came awake again to the sound of shouting. The door swung open and a nurse came in. “Seems like a good time to pretend you’re still sleeping.” The young woman shot her a smile. “That man out there is raising all kinds of ruckus demanding to see you.”

  “Daire?” Her voice was raspy. Barely audible.

  “It’d be nice if it was just a dare. Then we could tell him to leave.” The nurse pushed a button and the head of the bed began to rise. Bryn’s head swam, but she was able to push away the sensation.

  The nurse handed her a cup. Bryn sipped from the straw while they both held it. “Good. Need to pee?”

  Bryn shook her head.

  “Press the button if you gotta go.” She motioned to it on the side of the bed. “Or if you get hungry. A smoothie might do you some good. I’d imagine chewing seems like too much hard work right now.”

  She wasn’t wrong. Bryn’s lips curled up into a slight smile.

  The nurse waited.

  Bryn mustered all the strength she had and pointed at the door. “Who?”

  “Tall guy, nice hair. Says he’s your husband.”

  Bryn’s brow knotted.

  The nurse barked a laugh. “Not your favorite person.”

  “Ex.” Bryn managed.

  “I’ll let the doctors know. And those security guards you’ve got outside watching your door.” She fanned herself. “Boy do those guys know how to stand still and look pretty.”

  Bryn shook her head slightly.

  “Two of them. One blond, blue eyes. Looks like he’d kill you in your sleep. The other is dark, kinda stocky and dressed like a biker.”

  Ben. And the other one…she couldn’t remember his name. Not Shadrach.

  The nurse whistled. “I do like me a bad boy.”

  Bryn smiled, though questions were beginning to form in her mind. Where was Daire? Why were Ben and the other one protecting her room? Why was Patrick here? How had he even found her? Not to mention his refusal to accept the fact she’d filed for divorce.

  She could barely think through everything, far too exhausted to make assessments as to what on earth was going on.

  Not to me
ntion her nightmare had become very real. Now she was never going to rest easy, not for the remainder of her life. As it was, every time she shut her eyes she heard his laughter. Saw his face. Felt the blood drain from her. Felt his presence move through her mind. Like he was searching for something.

  Daire was probably getting as far from her as possible, considering what had happened. He’d probably—wisely—decided to cut his losses and leave.

  The nurse said, “Shout if you need me, yeah?”

  Bryn nodded.

  “And the phone is right there if you want to call someone.”

  She glanced at it, and heard the door open.

  “Bryn!” Patrick’s voice rang down the hall into the room. She ignored it, pulled the phone over and dialed Amelia’s number. What she wanted right now was a familiar voice. An anchor in the middle of being tossed to and fro by everything that’d happened.

  No answer on the girl’s cell phone.

  Bryn clicked the button where the handset would cut off the call and held the phone to her ear again. She lifted her finger and called another number.

  Two digits from the end she hung up.

  Her brother had made it clear he didn’t want to see her, or speak to her. Why she’d thought to call Erik now was anyone’s guess. Nothing but the musings of her addled brain. Starved of blood for who knew how long. Apparently it had made her wistful.

  Friendship was one thing, and she didn’t begrudge Amelia being busy when Bryn needed to talk to her. Wishing her brother had been an entirely different person, making their relationship an entirely different one, was something else.

  She didn’t even want to think about Patrick, or why he was here.

  Now. Of all times, and in all places.

  Then again, he’d always gone where he pleased and done what he wanted to do regardless of anyone else’s feelings. Those were irrelevant. At least, until he’d argued that her mental breakdown was part of the reason she’d filed for divorce. Why he’d fight to stay married when that was the last thing she wanted wasn’t something she understood. But wasn’t this just another example of his doing whatever he wanted, regardless of her feelings? He wanted to be married, and so they should stay that way. Right.

  Bryn sighed. She closed her eyes, shutting down her thoughts in an effort to gain some peace and quiet for a while.

  At least until the door slammed open.

  Amelia stood in the doorway. But it was a man who yelled, “Why does she get to go in there?”

  Patrick was still here.

  Amelia’s features darkened in what could only be described as rage. “Do you want me to have him killed? Because I know people.”

  The fog from dozing had dissipated. Bryn pushed up, lifting her shoulders from the bed so that she sat upright. “Let him in.”

  Amelia moved over to her. “Are you sure—”

  Ben stepped into the doorway, guarding in both directions. “Bryn?”

  Resolution solidified in her mind and she swallowed. “I want you to let him in.”

  Amelia stood by her bed, but turned to face the door. A sentry. Ben shared a look with the other man out there, also guarding her room. Then he allowed Patrick to come in.

  Her ex-husband stormed past the blond man, not hiding the fact his shoulder clipped Ben’s. She wanted to ask him where Daire was.

  Patrick stormed to the end of the bed. “Bryn.” He sounded relieved. “What happened to you? And who are these men guarding you?”

  Before she could answer, Ben flipped open a wallet. “Department of Justice.”

  “Is that supposed to answer the question as to what you’re doing here?” Patrick did look confused. If she’d had the energy to feel sorry for him, she wouldn’t have wasted it. He looked back at her. “What happened?”

  “Why are you here?”

  He looked at her again. “I’m your husband, why wouldn’t I be here?”

  Amelia gasped and spun to her. “You’re really married?”

  Bryn shook her head. “I filed for divorce.”

  Patrick stared her down. “I know that was all because of what happened. You weren’t in your right mind. Certainly not well enough to make big decisions like that.” He shook his head, like he was sad for her. “I couldn’t possibly quit being there for you at a time like that.”

  “We were already separated.”

  She didn’t even know what else to say. Had she possessed the mental ability to rehash the failings of their entire relationship, she might have fired back at him some more. But not with this audience.

  “As soon as you’re well, I want you to come home with me, Brynnie.”

  Amelia choked, covering it with a cough. Yes, it sounded ridiculous when he said it like that. She’d just never had the guts to do what Amelia had just done.

  Behind Patrick, Ben motioned to him and then at the door, wordlessly asking her if she’d like to have her ex-husband ejected.

  Who were these people? They’d insinuated themselves into her life in a matter of days, and become closer to her than Patrick ever had. And they’d been married four years.

  “Patrick, I’d like you to leave. I don’t know why you’re here when the last time we spoke it was for you to scream at me because I’d filed for divorce. You said, and I quote, ‘I never want to see your crazy butt again.’ Though, that wasn’t precisely the word you used.”

  Amelia shifted closer, all but sitting on the bed beside her shoulder. Side-by-side. Like a team. Like friends.

  Patrick tried to look dejected. “I was upset. I’ve been looking for you for months. When the private investigator said you were here, I knew I had to come.”

  There was too much there. Bryn didn’t have the energy to figure out how to get him to leave. She should have taken Ben up on his offer.

  Ben stepped forward then, like he’d read it in her. “Ms. Johansen isn’t well. She needs to rest, and you aren’t helping.”

  “I know she isn’t well,” Patrick said. “She suffered a mental breakdown from stress at work. None of you have any idea of the depth of her psychosis. She hears voices. She sees things that aren’t there. Hallucinations are only the beginning of it.” He took a breath. “Anyway, her psychologist is on his way here. I called him, and he’s prepared to have her transferred back to the center.”

  Amelia turned to her then. Her face soft, her fingers even softer when she laid her hand on Bryn’s cheek. “There is not one single thing wrong with you that time and rest won’t cure.”

  Patrick started to object. Malachi’s elbow shot out and her ex-husband doubled over coughing.

  Amelia said, “Bryn.” A tear rolled from Bryn’s eye and the young woman swiped it away. “I know you’re scared, and he’s out there now, but Daire is going to take care of that as soon as he’s better.”

  “Where is he?”

  There was an edge of fear in Amelia’s eyes. The simple fact was that things were exactly that bad. If the druid was still out there, and Daire needed to get better, then he hadn’t bested the druid. He’d been hurt.

  She doubted she’d feel safe until he was here. Until she could see for herself that he was okay.

  “What on earth are you people talking about?” Patrick roared, breathing hard now.

  Ben said, “Time for you to leave.”

  There was no way she would go back with him. She had to be far from here when the psychologist showed up, with all his ideas about how to “cure” her.

  Yes, there were genuine mental health professionals. Yes, there were well-meaning doctors who did their best for troubled patients. But all those movies that depicted horrifying stories that should’ve been entertaining but actually freaked her out collided in her mind, along with the dreams. The blood.

  The druid.

  No way.

  Bryn pushed the blankets back in full blown panic mode. Her breath came in gasps now. Amelia fell off the side of the bed, but righted herself. “Bryn—”

  “Move.”

  “See,�
� Patrick said. “She’s crazy. Just look at her.”

  She looked at Ben. He was the one who would get her out of here.

  He turned to the door. “Malachi, go get Daire.”

  Bryn set her bare feet on the floor and backed up. Spots blinked in the corner of her vision, and Amelia swam before her. “I’m not crazy. I’m not.”

  There was plenty to be scared about, though. This was far from over.

  Amelia got in her face. “Look at me.”

  Bryn didn’t. Maybe she couldn’t.

  “Look at me, Bryn.”

  She lifted her gaze.

  “This idiot who thinks he has a claim on you is leaving. You’re coming with me and Daire, Ben, Malachi, Shadrach, Remy and Dauntless. Even Mei, when she feels better—she got stabbed a couple of days ago and she doesn’t heal as quickly as the rest of them.” Amelia paused. “You’re part of this team now and we’re going to make sure you’re safe from him.”

  “Why does she need to be safe from—”

  Ben hauled Patrick toward the door.

  “What are—” They crossed the threshold. “Bryn, you know this isn’t right! These people aren’t helping your delusion!”

  “Out.” Ben shoved him.

  Bryn watched them go, her thoughts still racing. Why had he come? Patrick couldn’t possibly think he was helping her. She hadn’t wanted him in her life even before the case that ended it all, back when he thought she was sane. What game was he playing trying to get her checked into that facility again?

  Amelia said, “You need to get back in bed.”

  “I have to leave.” It was more a whisper than anything else. There was no way she would go back there.

  “You need to lie down.”

  Bryn stared at her.

  “I’ll go get a wheelchair. We’ll get you out of here.”

  Bryn grabbed her friend’s elbows. “Don’t go.” She whispered again.

  Amelia’s face softened more. “Sit.”

  Malachi appeared at the door. “Daire isn’t coming.” He directed this at Ben, but his gaze drifted through Amelia and Bryn as well. “He went to check on something.”

  Amelia frowned. “Why wouldn’t he—”

  Ben cut her off. “Let’s get Bryn ready to go.” He strode right toward her. “We’re prepared to keep you safe. If you think that’s somewhere else because this doctor is coming, that’s fine. Remy can treat what’s going on with you physically. The head stuff is up to you.”