by Jaime Reed
“Mom?” I called with a swollen, scratchy throat.
Slowly, her eyes fluttered open. “Samara?”
“Hi, Mom. What’s going on?”
She sat up straight and rubbed her eyes. “Oh, thank goodness, baby. Are you all right? How are you feeling?”
“Groggy. Why am I in a hospital, again?”
“You were brought in two nights ago. You had a seizure and fell into a coma. Do you remember what happened?”
“Not really.” I dragged my hand through my hair and leaned back against the pillow. “We were at Courtney’s party. Caleb had a bow and arrow and—Caleb!” I sprang upright, but Mom pushed me back down.
“Easy now, just relax. He’s down the hall. His brother is with him. Tell me what happened.”
My mind reeled, straining to recount the event in its proper sequence. “He was having a fit, some sort of reaction.”
Mom’s expression was indiscernible. Several emotions flashed in those blue, bloodshot eyes, and hitting the top of the list was fear. “Samara, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” She buried her face in her hands.
“What happened, Mom?”
“He’s in a coma. The doctors believe he suffered an allergic attack, but they’re having trouble diagnosing his symptoms. The paramedics arrived to the scene pretty quick and were able to pump his stomach and give him insulin, but he’s still in bad shape. We’ll have to wait and see.”
“Like a food allergy? What did he eat?”
“I was hoping you could answer that question,” she said with a hint of reproach.
“You think he took drugs or something? Come on, Mom, Caleb does not do drugs. I would know if he did. I was with him the whole night, and I didn’t see him OD on anything but candy,” I said in his defense.
“No, no, I believe you. They’re pretty sure it’s an allergy to something he ate.” Mom took her time getting to the root of the matter, bracing herself for my response. “I thought maybe it was just a coincidence, but then he wasn’t the only one affected. You had the same reaction.”
“To what?” I yelled. “Were we poisoned?”
“I didn’t want to rouse any suspicion, no more than there already is, but ...” Mom glanced at the door before saying in a low, sneaky tone, “Remember what I was telling you about last week, my research about olive oil?”
“Olive oil?” I repeated, not sure if I heard her correctly. “Why would Caleb drink olive oil and what does that have to do with him being sick? That’s all myth, Mom.”
“Is it? Cambions are myths as well. Incubi and succubi aren’t supposed to exist. Why wouldn’t this rule apply?”
“Because it doesn’t work—just crazy superstition. I even proved it that night, and I was fine... .” I paused, my mouth forming the word yet to be spoken, when a recollection struck. Its truth seemed to have caught in my throat and gone down the wrong pipe.
While talking to Mom in the kitchen, I’d licked the oil on my finger and soon after, I’d gotten nauseous and spent half the night puking. My stomach muscles had curled into knots and Lilith had writhed in her own sphere of agony, a feeling very similar to the one on Halloween night. But only a few drops had coated my finger, not even a teaspoon.
Staring off to the far end of the room, I shook my head. “Are you sure about this, Mom?”
“There’s no other explanation. You don’t have any past medical conditions, and you rarely got sick as a kid. And these aren’t exactly textbook symptoms of a food allergy. In fact, it’s more of an ‘internal’ issue.” She stressed the word with air quotes before continuing. “The staff around here have a lot of unanswered questions. No one has seen anything like this.” Mom tucked in her lips, holding back the sob that was ready to break loose.
I sat there in an unblinking trance. My thoughts ran in opposite directions, and each path led to a dead end. Aside from pizza, I’d never liked Italian food. Salads of any kind were against my religion, let alone fancy dressing. Which posed the question: How did olive oil get into my body?
Closing a shaky hand over her mouth, Mom broke into another fit of tears, but this time I joined her. “My God, you could’ve ...”
I reached over and fingered her curls. “Mom, please don’t cry, please. I’m fine.”
“Come here.” Mom pulled me in her arms. “Now do you see why I keep hounding you about your bracelet? I’m not trying to run your life, I tell you these things for your own good. You’re the only child I have, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.” Mom smoothed back my curls and rained kisses on my cheeks and temple. “The doctor says you’ll be fine in a few days, but you need to rest and stay hydrated. Your father came to see you this morning. He should be back tomorrow. He’ll be glad to know you’re awake.”
“Is he mad at me?”
There was something very creepy about her laugh. It seemed to mock me as if I should know better. And I did. I could almost see Dad barging through the door demanding answers that I didn’t even know how to give.
Pulling away, I wiped the tears from my eyes and focused on one crisis at a time. “I need to see Caleb, just for a few minutes.”
“I know, but not tonight. Get some rest. I’ll take you to him as soon as the doctors check on you.” Mom stroked my tube-covered hand.
Lying back on the bed, I shut my eyes. I didn’t have the strength to analyze this tonight, so I closed all programs and saved the data as a WTF file. Besides, whatever was tunneling inside my IV drip was making me drowsy.
“Will you stay until I fall asleep?” I mumbled against the pillow.
She kissed my nose. “I’m not leaving you, baby.”
In moments, sleep took over and I dreamt of Caleb, my knight in shining armor. He stood proud on a mountain summit, surveying his newly conquered terrain with a sword in one hand and a powdered doughnut in the other.
I could have been asleep for maybe an hour when a nagging throb attacked my stomach. It caused a pull, an unrelenting need to act. This distress call seemed to come from miles away, a desperate plea for help. I tried my best to ignore it, but that only aggravated the ache more. Like a baby wailing in the night for its mother, this alarm pulled me out of a sound sleep to see to its need.
“I’m coming,” I croaked and threw the covers off of me.
I ripped off the medical tape, and my eyes watered as the top layer of skin peeled with it. Eyebrow waxes were never this brutal. Thankfully, removing the needle in my hands was far less painful. I eased out of the bed and rummaged the supply cabinets for bandages while keeping a watchful eye on my dozing mother. Once I’d dressed the wounds, I tiptoed to the door.
Mom would have a fit, but I had to see Caleb, just a peek, just a moment of consolation. The vacant hall left me free to walk undetected. If I hadn’t been awake before, the icy tiled floor and cool draft creeping up my hospital gown did the trick. The strange pulling sensation grew stronger with each step, creating a navigational system that allowed me to reach room 278 without conscious effort.
I opened the door and peered inside. The hall light leaked into the dark space, drawing around the sleeping body in the middle of the bed. I slipped inside and leaned against the closed door, listening to the monitors chirp like nocturnal wildlife. It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, but my patience was well rewarded.
I admired his peaceful demeanor, even with the tubes and wires wrapped around him. However, his position made him too inert for sleep, and looked more like preparation for burial. The thought left me drained of strength, and the continuous draw seemed to suck the life from my body. At least now I knew where the compulsion was coming from.
“You shouldn’t be here, Sam.” The voice carried a faint Irish brogue.
I spun around to a pair of purple lights flickering in the dark. It followed my every move as I pushed off the door, but I wasn’t afraid. If anything, his presence offered comfort. Last time I’d heard he was doing volunteer work overseas, forever the philanthropist who opened his hands
rather than his checkbook.
The keen glow in his eyes told me that my visit was an unexpected one. His spirit was livid, and he didn’t care who saw it.
“You’ll make yourself sick. Go back to bed,” Haden advised.
“I will. I had to see him.” I turned back to Caleb. “How is he?”
“Unresponsive. They managed to get his heart rate under control and he’s breathing on his own.”
Footsteps drew closer. That soft, lavender glow bumbled in the dark.
“How could this happen, Haden?” I whispered.
“The lives inside us aren’t human, but we are. Our bodies are just as susceptible to the elements as everyone else.” Rough, callused hands rounded my shoulders and squeezed. “But this is an internal injury. His spirit is the one that’s afflicted, not him.”
“Did you know about the olive oil?” I asked, my eyes stinging with tears.
He let out a long, heavy breath. “We all knew about it as lads. Basic household oil is not as harmful; it’ll make you sick. The deadly kind has to be organic and blessed by the church. Michael got a hold of some when he was seven, but Brodie and I were there to give him enough energy to fight it off.”
Seeing my look of confusion, he added, “Feeding as soon as it happens works as a vitamin C shot; it strengthens the spirit’s defense system in a way. Every second counts if you want to catch it before it settles into your system. After that, it’s a coin toss.”
I couldn’t believe this! All this fuss over a cooking ingredient, a toxin known to everyone in the Cambion community but me. Hell, if Mom could discover our weakness, then this little fun fact was available to anyone with a decent search engine. If only a certain kind could do harm, that meant someone else knew about us, and they had gone through a lot of effort to single us out. But who? In light of this, I couldn’t help thinking that somehow this was my fault.
I let my weight rest against Haden’s chest. “When did you get here?”
“This morning. Brodie’s here in the States, but he’s stuck in New York on business. And Michael ... well, he’s a little upset.”
I stared up at him. “He blames me, doesn’t he?”
“He’s a bit more rational than that. There’s a method to his apparent madness, but no, he’s not angry with you. He was more concerned for you than Caleb.”
“Why?”
“As I said, the oil lingered too long and Caleb didn’t feed to build his strength, and if he did, it wasn’t enough. There is no logical reason why he isn’t dead yet. His spirit hasn’t abandoned his body, which means there’s life left to salvage. Yours.”
“I don’t understand. We’re not bonded yet.”
“But you’re linked. You feed from each other constantly, strengthening the connection,” Haden explained. “Capone is borrowing energy from Lilith, a type of life support until Caleb can recover. That’s why you had your seizure. They only found a small trace of the oil in your body, not enough to do serious damage. You’re taking in Caleb’s illness, you’re keeping him alive, and the fact that you’re walking about is a good sign.”
My next question was difficult to get out. “Since we’re not bound to each other, what will happen to me if he dies?”
Haden leaned closer to my ear. “You want the truth?”
“It’s always nice.”
“You’ll survive, but you’ll wish you hadn’t. Your spirit will grieve and suffer extreme withdrawal and you’ll go mad. For starters.”
I flinched. I had asked for honesty, but damn. “Starters?”
“Best case scenario, you’ll become suicidal and succeed. Worst case.” He swallowed hard. “You’ll become like my father.”
The reply sent a chill through the entire room.
Whirling machinery cut through the silence as our predicament lay out before us, unmoving, wrapped in tubes and adhesive. Bonded or not, I was stuck with Caleb for life. Though I hadn’t signed up for this when we began dating, I couldn’t imagine life without him. Not now. Not after all that had happened.
“Does he need to feed now?” I asked.
I felt Haden nod. “Badly.”
That was all I needed to know. I rushed to Caleb’s side and touched his face. “How will that work if he can’t draw it in?”
“I have no idea, but if his spirit can feed off you from across the hall, it should sense you up close. Try it, but don’t let him take too much.”
Opening Caleb’s mouth, I lowered my head. His lips were cold and lacked the sweetness that served as the norm. After long moments of stillness, a pulling sensation dragged at my insides. Lilith twitched and prickled in both pain and frenzy. I only had my imagination to help me understand the internal battle taking place. One injured animal nursed the other, licking the wounds and offering food. Meanwhile, no trace of Caleb was present, no warm coat of joy, no scent of sweets, no memories.
“Caleb,” I whispered against his lips as hot tears burned my cheeks. My body shook as I drew deeper into the kiss, giving all of myself to him, praying that my strength was enough. But all I got was dead air and further anguish.
“That’s enough, Sam. You’re still weak. You don’t want to overdo it,” Haden whispered from some great distance. His hands latched on to my arms when I didn’t respond. Opening my eyes, I strained to remember where I was. I stared at Caleb, motionless and lifeless as when I’d last seen him.
“He needs more,” I insisted.
“Not right now. You need to feed, rebuild your strength, then try again. He’ll kill you if he takes too much now.” Haden pulled me to his chest and squeezed me tight until I stopped struggling. “Go on back to bed. You can try again in the morning.”
His chest rose and fell in angry tremors in an effort to keep it together. More times than necessary, Caleb’s brothers had seen death, that uninvited guest who had taken permanent residence in their lives.
“You know I can’t leave him,” I mumbled against his shirt.
“I know. I figured I’d toss the idea out there anyway.” He kissed the top of my head as an orderly walked into the room and clicked on the light.
“Miss, you can’t be in here. Your mother is looking for you. Come back to your room,” he ordered.
Pulling away, Haden lifted my chin to meet his gaze. Dingy black hair fell around his face in tangled locks. Fading white scars creased his leathery face. His nose hung slightly bent and set off center, evidence of rough living and a short temper. But seeing those violet peepers made my stomach jerk. I had almost forgotten how all the Ross boys looked alike. Caleb and his brothers shared that vagabond appearance, as if they had simply rolled out of bed, looked in the mirror, and given up. Then again, they all had an incubi spirits living in their bodies, and having women dogging their every step left no real reason to try.
Six and a half feet of bulk made Haden the most intimidating of the four. He looked like he should be in Special Ops combing the jungle, but his cinnamon roll cologne killed all element of badass.
After a few blinks, the glow in his eyes faded away, retreating behind the cornea. “Are you hungry?”
Knowing what he meant, I said, “Starving.”
Wearing a wicked grin, Haden turned to the male nurse. “Sir, she’s a bit weak. Could you be so kind as to take her back to her room?” His voice was as low and persuasive as any villain.
“Sure.” The orderly stepped closer, then froze as our eyes met. He was a husky guy with loose-fitting scrubs. His athletic build and baby face screamed med student, but I had to be careful. My allure affected men of all ages, and it would be a shame if he was arrested tonight for improper conduct.
Meeting him halfway, I brushed my hand over his face. Almost instantly, he gave in to the draw, leaning closer to capture my mouth. I stopped and lightly danced my lips against his, grazing his cheek, his neck, then returned to the source, drinking in my fill on much-needed nourishment. My finger stopped at his pulse, waiting for that indicative skip in his heartbeat. As soon as I felt it, I
pulled away.
He stared back at me with hooded eyes, silently begging for more, offering anything for another turn.
“Leave me here and tell my mother I’m fine,” I said. “Insist that I stay. My presence calms Caleb. I’ll return in the morning.”
He nodded keenly, then set off to do my bidding.
Haden stood by the door with an appreciative smile, looking like Caleb’s alter ego. “A true Cambion at work. Nadine would be proud.”
“Thanks.” I crawled on the bed and curled next to Caleb, mindful of the wires and cords.
Haden left the room for a moment, no doubt to keep Mom from dragging me back to my room. I needed this time with Caleb, a period of regeneration and peace. At some point, I fell asleep whispering words of encouragement and love, words that I’d never had the nerve to say aloud, words for his ears only.
8
I remained hospitalized for the next few days, still unable to imbibe solid food.
The doctors ran more tests and gave me the royal treatment, perhaps in fear from the last time the Marshall women darkened their halls. Maybe the extra attention had something to do with me snacking on every man on staff, including the custodians. Whatever the deal was, I didn’t complain.
Mom stood guard as usual, fending off police and the obstinate private detective, David Ruiz. He seemed adamant about interviewing me, and not even Mom’s threat of disembowelment could deter him.
Despite his relaxed, Brooklyn-bred tone, Ruiz sported an air of authority that had me tripping over my own words. His shiny black curls, Colgate smile, and designer suit couldn’t diminish the “don’t eff with me” vibe that clung to his skin like cologne. For that reason, Lilith decided to sit this one out. He seemed immune to my draw anyway, which was a phenomenon within itself. He didn’t seem like a forty-year-old virgin, not the way he was eyeballing Mom all through his visit.
Having knowledge of our connection, he asked about Caleb’s father. My answers remained vague, but he kept drilling that rig until he struck oil. The detective and I shared one belief: There was a cause and effect to everything, and there was no such thing as coincidences. Maybe it was part of his strategy, but he seemed to know more than what he let on. Since neither one of us were going to show our cards, we wasted a good part of an hour calling each other’s bluff.
