She didn’t understand why he was trying to make her feel better. He had no responsibility to see to her emotions. Still, she appreciated the odd sort of semi-friendship he offered. “Soren?”
“My brother.”
“Older or younger?”
Shade grimaced. “Younger, by about seven minutes.”
Torrey’s brow lifted. “You’re a twin?”
The grimace turned to a sort-of smile. “Twins are common among my people, triplets, too.” He turned, taking his eyes from Hillary to focus on Torrey. “Your turn. Who is Frank?”
It was Torrey’s turn to grimace. “Riley’s father. My mom met my dad when she and Frank broke up one time. It didn’t last very long, and she went back to Frank. I know you said he was jealous, and maybe that’s true, but it’s also true that he hates me.”
Shade said nothing, and Torrey appreciated that. He didn’t try to explain the ways in which she might be mistaken, and he didn’t try to defend Frank’s behavior. He accepted her statement without offering sympathy or judgment.
Standing, she looked down at Shade. “I’ll go home with you, Shade, but I need you to help me with one thing first.”
His expression didn’t change as he waited for her request.
“Seth gave me some medicine to give to my mom. I have to remove it from her body, but I don’t know how.” She watched him expectantly, hoping he understood she was asking for help with her magic.
His hands rested on his legs, fingers spread to span his powerful thighs. Strong hands on rugged jeans never failed to captivate Torrey. “Did you have another vision?”
She wasn’t sure they were visions so much as visitations. “Yes.”
Shade stood, his eyes roaming Hillary’s still form. “I can tell you what to do, Torrey, but I can’t help you do it.”
“That’s all I need,” she said. “He said you would show me.”
Shade glanced at her sharply. “The Shadow Man?”
“No,” she said, declining to elaborate. For some reason, she didn’t want to share Caiden’s name with anyone, not yet. “Tell me, Shade. Tell me how to free my mother.”
Moving to stand behind her, Shade lifted her arms until they were extended in front of her, hands open, palms facing upward. “Witches are of the earth and of the water. You command those elements. A human body is mostly water. Command the water to give up the poison.”
Torrey concentrated, willing the poison—the medicine—to leave her mother’s body. Amazingly, she felt a tingling deep inside herself, and that tingling was reflected in her mother’s body. That small taste of success gave her hope, and hope gave her focus. She tried. Time passed. Nothing happened.
Her hands dropped, rotating downward. Immediately, Shade grabbed her wrists and forced her palms skyward. “Hands up and open means you’re calling, commanding. Hands facing down means you’re forcing, pushing. Hands with the palms open and facing away from you is purely defensive. You can’t force this, and you can’t fight it. You have to command it.”
She noticed he was careful to keep his body behind her. Did her power not work in that direction? Shaking away peripheral and distracting thoughts, Torrey seized on what he said. Command. She would have to command the poison to leave.
No. She didn’t have control of the poison. She had control of water. Renewing her efforts, she reached out to the water inside Hillary’s body and commanded it to push the poison out. She felt the substance being forced through permeable membranes, heading toward the kidneys. In minutes, her mother’s body was clear.
The effort drained Torrey, and she collapsed backward, falling against Shade. His arms came around her, once again offering support without being asked.
The beeps ran together, turning into a high-pitched scream as the mystical drug that kept Hillary’s heart beating flushed from her cells, and she flat-lined. Nurses and doctors rushed in, pushing a crash cart into the tiny room. Torrey and Shade were shuffled to the hall to await the results of the futile efforts to revive Hillary.
Shade deposited Torrey on a low bench across the hall and moved to lean against the wall next to her. She sagged forward, resting her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. Energy began to slowly return.
The keening of the machines was an ominous background to demands for “One more milligram, STAT!” and “Clear!” Then the noise of the medical staff ceased. From the open doorway, the softer command to “Call it” drifted out.
“What the hell have you done?”
Torrey’s head jerked up to find Frank, all six feet, two inches of him, bearing down on her. She didn’t answer, but she didn’t need to. Her guilt was written plainly on her face.
His hand shot out to slap her. Now that he had denied all ties to her, now that Hillary wasn’t there to stand between them, he had no reservations about acting on his violent impulses toward her.
The hand never connected. Shade’s iron grip prevented Frank’s arm from moving. His face was dark and foreboding. Additional threats and warnings were unnecessary.
Frank stared at Shade, noticing him for the first time. His resistance relaxed, and Shade released Frank’s arm.
Torrey stood, automatically moving closer to Shade’s protection. “It was her time to go, Frank. You know she wasn’t in there. That’s why you left her alone. That’s why you keep leaving her alone.” Despite the way he treated Torrey, she knew Frank had loved Hillary, and he wouldn’t have left her alone if he believed any part of her was still trapped inside her body.
“Bitch. That wasn’t your decision to make.”
“I know,” she said. “That’s why I took back the potion I gave her.”
Frank stared incredulously. Torrey was learning to use her powers despite his best effort to deny her training. Glancing to Shade, his lip curled in disgust. “It was wise of you to bring your dog, Torment. He’ll do the dirty work for me. He’ll kill you when he’s finished with you and take all that power you don’t deserve to have. I won’t have to lift a finger.”
Shade spoke at last. “Grief makes your words foolish. No one will harm Torrey while I’m around.”
Frank’s disgust turned to a genuine smile. “But you can’t help it, can you? You’ve already killed witches, haven’t you? Wolves don’t come by power over the elements naturally. It’s only a matter of time. The animal part of your nature can’t resist. You will kill her, and you will take her powers.”
Shade’s glower returned.
With a chuckle bordering on the maniacal, Frank regarded Torrey. “You’ve hired a wolf to track a wolf. Brilliant. Did you promise him your power in exchange for her safe return? He’ll take it one way or another.”
Throwing back her shoulders and affecting a confidence she did not feel, Torrey’s eyes glittered hard. “He doesn’t want my power. He’s already helped me to use it.”
Frank’s eyes raked up and down her body. “Ahhh. Good to see you finally found a skilled trade.” He shrugged. “He’s still going to kill you, Torment. The man in him will use your body, and the hound in him will take your life and steal your power.”
Torrey didn’t care that he called her a whore. She was tired, and grief constricted her chest. She wanted Frank to stop tormenting her, to take his vitriol far away. With all of her willpower, she pushed at the grief, trying to dislodge it, to take a breath. Frank flew backward, crashing into the opposite wall.
The surprise on Frank’s face was mirrored in Torrey’s. She didn’t know exactly what she had done or how, but she knew she had done it.
“Looks like you do know how to use your powers.” Shade’s low-toned observation was filled with amusement.
“I–I–I didn’t mean…”
The medical staff exited the room. Nurses streamed away from the grieving family, each pair of eyes avoiding direct contact, as if the emotion was contagious. The doctor on call was one Torrey knew well but whose name was elusive. The woman’s sympathy pressed against Torrey before a single word was spoken.
&
nbsp; “I’m sorry,” she said, taking in both Frank and Torrey with the sweep of her eyes. “We did everything we could.”
Frank and Torrey stared in stunned silence. Both of them knew Hillary was gone, but neither was prepared to actually hear the words. Shade slid his arm around Torrey’s waist, a gesture of comfort and possession. “Thank you, Doctor.”
He spoke with the doctor for another minute. The conversation was lost on Torrey. Ridding her mother’s body of Seth’s potion and shoving Frank across the hall had drained her energy far beyond anything she’d ever experienced.
“Let’s get you outside.” Shade’s voice sounded close to her ear.
Torrey looked up at him, but he didn’t make sense. He had two deep blue eyes and midnight hair and broad shoulders and full lips that spoke words. The hallway was a shade of white closer to ecru, and a crash cart was being wheeled from the room where her mother’s cold body lay.
Nothing was real. Nothing made sense.
Pressure on her lower back urged her legs forward, but they didn’t move. She had forgotten how to make them move.
Sympathy filled those blue eyes, making them both darker and lighter. How was that possible? He scooped her up in his arms, grabbed her backpack, and carried her out of the hospital.
Hope. The word floated to her from Shade’s subconscious and from somewhere intangible. What had Caiden meant when he said she was Shade’s hope?
But she was tired. She couldn’t grasp a single thought for more than a few seconds, and that wasn’t enough time to do anything with it.
Chapter 6
The burst of energy coming from Torrey when she blasted her stepfather across the hall had taken Shade by surprise. Given how much effort it took for Torrey to command water, he didn’t think she would be able to do anything more. She had been tired before the use of her powers sapped her energy.
She was light in his arms. Her body was large by human standards, but to him, she was small. Her eyes were open, but unfocused. When he first acquired a witch’s power, he had run into a similar problem when trying to figure out how to use it. She had pushed herself too hard. She needed to replenish her strength.
Food would do nothing for her. She needed the elements. She needed to touch water and earth.
The city was too full of pavement. The magic had been drained by human litter. He needed to get her out of there. The moisture in the air outside the hospital revived Torrey a little bit, though she made no move to indicate she wanted to be put down. Securing her into the passenger seat of his truck, he drove, heading toward his precious Appalachian Mountains. She was asleep in minutes.
This entire job was becoming more than he anticipated. When the Shadow Man visited him the first time all those years ago, Shade had dismissed the man as nothing more than a delusional lunatic. But then those little demons appeared to Soren, and Shade watched his brother surrender to his compulsion.
The Shadow Man had wanted Shade to go on a quest, to take the steps that would ensure the demons never got close enough to Soren to influence him. Shade’s self-imposed exile was part of his punishment. If he had only listened to the Shadow Man, his home would be in the town where he had grown up. He would be close to his family and friends. Soren would know a moment’s peace.
And Hope would be alive.
When the Shadow Man appeared again, Shade listened. The task seemed straightforward. Wait at that dive on Route Two for a message.
He’d known the second Torrey walked in that she was the reason he was there. Beautiful and brave, she shone with an inner strength that had nothing to do with the waves of power rolling from her direction. He’d wanted to make love to her in the parking lot.
After walking the streets to clear his head, he’d planned to return to Torrey’s apartment, bury himself in her, and then head to Soren’s place to talk him out of his plan to exchange Riley for Torrey. He didn’t want Torrey anywhere near Soren.
Yet, when he’d woken alone in Torrey’s bed, with only the faint scent of their passion for company, he’d been crippled by how much he missed her. He needed to touch her, to hear her voice, to sleep with her again.
He thought he would have the courage to leave her alone, to thwart Soren’s imminent power grab and avert Torrey’s sacrifice.
Instead, he’d followed her scent to a library. She’d walked through the entire damn thing, not settling on one particular area for very long. Finally, he tracked her through a service entrance and to the hospital. He knew her mother was seriously ill. He hadn’t known he would be there to witness her death, or that he would have a hand in helping Torrey cause it.
The border between Ohio and West Virginia disappeared under the wheels of his truck. The Ohio River was beautiful, and it provided a powerful water source, but it was a little too public for what Torrey needed. A quick glance visually confirmed what he already knew. Mentally, spiritually, and physically, she was exhausted. She was still asleep; her head slumped against the window.
Her neck was going to be sore. Pushing on the backpack, he determined there was something soft inside. With one hand, he unzipped it and pulled out a large black blanket. His long reach made it possible for him to position the blanket under her head, supporting her neck, without having to stop the truck.
Two hours passed. Now that he was so near his house, trepidation joined the fear in his stomach. What would she think of his house—the house he built with his own two hands? A house that, though he had remodeled it for her, not even Hope had seen.
Would she be angry with him for packing up all her clothes and personal items, throwing them in the back of his truck, and driving her all the way to the middle of nowhere? She didn’t seem to remember anything about Hope or their previous time together. It was a presumptuous move, but destiny had put them together again. He wasn’t going to let her go.
Somehow, he would convince her to stay. He would convince her this was part of the bargain to which she had agreed. He wouldn’t tell her that his help was assured, no matter what decision she made. As he taught her to control her powers, awareness of who she was, and what she was to him, would return.
Next to him, Torrey stirred. She stretched and yawned before sitting up and blinking into the fading light of the fall evening.
“Where are we?”
She wasn’t refreshed. Some of her energy had returned, but she needed some serious time with nature to completely recover. Pulling to the shoulder of the deserted road, he stopped the truck. To one side, the mountain continued upward, the sheer face attesting to the violence with which the road had been carved.
On the other side, a small stream ran alongside thick trees. Shade pushed the release on her seat belt. Without waiting for Torrey’s permission, he lifted her across the front seat and into his lap.
The position was momentary. Seconds later, he placed her on the ground next to the stream. His ability to move faster than her too-human eyes could perceive didn’t seem to disconcert her. He was glad. It had taken Hope some time to become accustomed to his speed.
She shivered. “Shade, what are you doing?”
“Relax,” he cautioned. The last thing he needed was for her to accidentally use her powers. She didn’t have enough energy for something like that to be safe. He sat behind her, positioning her between his legs so he could wrap his body around hers. Witches might control water and earth, but wolves owned fire. Their bodies burned with it all the time. It was the agent of transformation that allowed them to shape-shift. It would be the agent providing body heat for her just now.
“The ground is cold.” Her protest died as energy from that cold ground poured into her. The dampness of water in the air touched her skin, which absorbed energy that way as well.
He removed her shoes and peeled off her stockings. The skirt she wore fell to her knees. He pushed that up and out of the way.
“Shade,” she protested.
“You need direct contact with the Earth. If it wasn’t so damn frosty out, I’d stick y
our foot in the water.” How was it possible for her to be so powerful, yet so ignorant of the basics of the natural world?
He angled her body so that they both faced west. The stream continued for as far as they could see, forming a break in the trees that let them watch the sun slip lower and lower in the sky.
She shivered again.
“Cold?” He rubbed her shoulders. On the small, two-lane road behind them, not a single car had passed.
“Freezing. I think I’m turning into an icicle.” Shifting so she could see him and remain in his arms, Torrey gazed up at him somberly. “I understand why you did this. When I feel tired or upset, I kick off my shoes and walk around barefoot in the park. It rejuvenates me. I didn’t know that was part of this witch thing. Riley likes to do it, too.”
This new position put her legs in easy reach. Shade ran his hands over her cold flesh, warming it the best he could. Touching her was addictive. “It is likely Riley has some power, just not as much as you. Frank might be weak, but he does have power.”
“You made it seem easy,” she said. Her voice was quiet. Her body might be replenished, but her grief was still potent. “I’ve tried for so long. I’ve read books and meditated, but I’ve never been able to do what I did today with you.”
Shade didn’t reply. He didn’t want her gratitude. Training her, the little he had done, had been simple. She could have been a great healer, revered by her people, if only someone had begun her training years earlier.
But Shade had learned long ago that regret was a useless emotion. He rested his fingers lightly on her cheek, turning her face to his to capture her lips. He’d wanted to kiss her since he first saw her in the hospital, holding vigil over her mother’s body, tears sliding silently down her soft, silky cheeks.
Her body melted into his, drawn by his heat and by the passion sparking between them. He eased her lips apart with the gentle press of his fingertips on her jaw. She opened to him, her hand creeping up his chest and over his shoulder to tangle in his hair. The fire inside him, always at a slow burn, leapt. Flames rocketed through his body, unfurling lower and lower.
Zurlo, Michele - Torment [Daughters of Circe 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 7
