by Debra Doxer
I hear myself screaming just before the shot sounds, echoing inside the small room. Lucas jerks backward as a tiny dot of blood forms in the middle of his shirt. I’m already up and running for him when he begins to fall back, catching himself hard on his elbows just before his head hits the floor.
“Lucas!” I see the blood spreading over his shirt, pumping out of his chest. Instinctively, I place my hand over the hole, feeling the warm liquid seeping beneath my palm.
His eyes are glassy when they find mine, and he coughs, causing a trickle of blood to drip down the side of his mouth. “Shit, this hurts,” he says as he winces.
I cry out his name again, shaking my head, not wanting to believe this is happening. I can almost hear myself shattering into pieces.
“This is your chance,” Lucas whispers so softly I can barely hear it. His eyes squeeze closed before he struggles to open them again. “I know you can do this.”
Looking at his pained expression, I feel the energy sparking inside me. But I know that as soon as I let it go, my father will begin to siphon it off. Lucas is hurt too badly. It’s going to take all my power to save him, which is exactly what my father wanted. I think of Grant in the kitchen with the knife, and how he couldn’t heal himself once I drained him. Instinctively, I know that I won’t be strong enough to save Lucas once my father begins leeching my power from me, and I won’t be able to take his power unless I divert my attention from Lucas. My father has outsmarted us, and now the only person who has ever loved me is going to pay a terrible price for it.
Lucas’s mouth tightens in pain as he watches me, and I can see that he has no idea of the terrible thoughts running through my head. He’s confused by my complete despair. I cry even harder, wanting to be strong for him, but failing miserably because my whole world is crumbling.
His eyes have a desperate hold on mine, and I see it when a glimmer of fear creeps into his expression. Maybe he is starting to understand. He swallows hard and licks his lips. “It’s okay,” he says. His voice is thready and weak.
“No,” I whisper because it’s the farthest thing from okay.
“I’m sorry,” he rasps. His fingers whisper across my arm. “I’m so sorry, Ray.”
A sob rips from me as I stare down into his beautiful face. He’s apologizing to me. He’s worrying about me when I’m the one who’s done this to him. I have so many regrets, so many things I wish I’d done differently.
I take his hand and lean down to kiss him. He barely manages to press his own mouth against mine. I can’t stand this. He’s meant to live a long life filled with happiness. It’s not supposed to end this way, and I won’t let him go without trying. Even though I know what that will mean for both of us.
With his hand still in mine, I squeeze my eyes closed and throw everything I have into fueling my power, letting the coil grow hot and bright inside me, taking every ounce of strength and directing it to my center. It swirls beneath my skin, expanding and heating me from the inside out. I’m shaking with the effort, feeling as though I’m going to ignite at any moment. Then I let it unwind, traveling through me like a lit fuse sparking hotly into Lucas. His breathing hitches as I reach inside him to wind the coil around the raw wound mutilating his chest.
From the corner of my eye, I see my father moving toward me like a predator. I cringe away as his hand reaches for me. Does he know, I wonder? Does he realize that Lucas will die if he takes my energy while I’m trying to heal him? As his hand stretches out to touch my cheek, I reach up and pull it from the air, grasping it tightly with my free hand. He only grins as he starts to pull on my power where our hands meet. I try to yank away, but I can already feel it. It’s like he’s slowly dousing me with water, extinguishing my energy little by little.
I turn back to Lucas, watching as the light in his eyes dims. His pallor is gray now, and my heart leaps into my throat. No! His body is failing too quickly and without all my strength, I can’t reverse what’s happening. I feel it inside him, the shift that occurs when the coldness of death starts to grip him.
My hand tightens around his. I won’t let this happen. I can’t let him go, and there’s something else I can do, something that worked when I was far less powerful. I did it with Penelope, and I hope that at the very least, I can take Lucas’s death into myself.
Instead of using my remaining strength to heal his wound, I pull on it. My coil of power snaps back at me, making me flinch as it fights against me. But I push past it until I can feel each pulse of Lucas’s weak heart echoing inside my own chest.
Gradually, it begins to work as the damage done to his body shifts into me, making my own heart sputter. My eyes skim down to the bullet hole, watching as the blood seeping out starts to slow. That’s when I feel the hideous pain of what my father is doing to me, the tug on my power, the fire burning in my veins as he rips my energy from me.
Easily now, my father breaks my grip on him and his hand lands on my cheek, his fingers digging into the skin below my jaw. I snap my head in his direction and see that his eyes are closed. He’s enjoying the flow of energy, and the hatred I feel for him is like a living thing slithering inside me.
When I look back over at Lucas, my chest starts to tighten. Breathing is a struggle as my heart skips unevenly, but I keep going, waiting for the color to return to his face and for the hole inside his chest to close completely. It’s getting harder as my father takes my power, and I’m teetering on the edge, fighting for clarity as my vision darkens.
I’m running out of time when Lucas coughs harshly before pulling in a deep breath. I watch as the blood flows back into his face and relief pours through me. His lips and cheeks are taking on a pink tinge. The bullet hole is sealed closed, and little by little the rhythm of his heart starts to even out, growing strong inside his chest while my pulse slows. Pure joy makes me smile as I look at him. It worked. He’s coming back. He’s going to be okay, and at least one of us is going to walk out of here alive. Slowly, I pull my hand from his, severing our connection.
Then I turn on my father, fighting against the blackness that wants to swallow me. He’s watching me now, feeling good, oblivious to my struggle as I gather the horror swirling inside me. I don’t know if I can pass my death into him, but one way or another, I’m going to make him feel my pain. He doesn’t expect it when I lunge at him. My hate-fueled scream shatters the silence as I grasp his wrists with both hands and slam the agony pulsing through me directly into him. It fills the stream of energy flowing between us. His eyes are wide, and he doesn’t seem to feel it. He just thinks I’m fighting back. But soon his forehead wrinkles, first in suspicion, then in pain.
He tries to pull away from me. Astonishment breaks across his face, and I wonder what he thought I would do. I told him that I wasn’t willing to trade one life for another, but did he really think that would apply to Lucas? Maybe he didn’t believe I was strong enough to do this or that I would be afraid to try because of what happened with Penelope. Or maybe he thought I’d be scared to die, just like he is. But more likely, he’s never cared about anyone in his entire life. He had no idea how far I’d be willing to go to save someone I love.
He tries to stand, but I throw my weight against him, pinning him down with all the strength I have left. I’d nearly forgotten the bodyguard who is still standing in the doorway, looking confused now, not realizing what’s happening right in front of his eyes.
But my father can’t talk. He can’t call out for help as the color drains from his face. His struggling slowly diminishes as his head falls back to the floor, and his eyes silently plead for me to stop. Instead of stopping, I mercilessly push into him every last bit of death I’ve taken from Lucas’s body until his eyes lose their focus. His arms go slack in my hands. My blood turns ice-cold when his heart gradually comes to a stop, and I collapse in a heap, right on top of him.
I lie there for a moment, shivering and breathing hard. When I’m able to push myself up, I try to stand, but the room tilts, and I slump do
wn to the floor. The bodyguard slowly approaches us, trying to get a closer look. He says nothing, just stares at my father’s lifeless form.
“Lucas,” I call out. But my voice is a strained whisper, and I get no reply. Getting to my hands and knees, I crawl over to where he lies. His color is good, but he still hasn’t moved. I lay my ear against his chest, listening for his heartbeat. It’s there, I think. But my own pulse is throbbing in my ears, making it hard to distinguish his from my own. “Lucas,” I plead, shuddering as my teeth chatter loudly.
Then I feel a slight movement before his fingers slide into my hair. I burst into tears, gripping his shirt in my hands. I turn to see his eyes staring up at me. They glitter with intensity. He winces as he levers himself up, still holding me against him.
“You’re okay,” I whisper, barely getting the words out between sobs.
Lucas’s hand curls over the nape of my neck as his other arm winds around me, pressing me to him. “I’m okay, baby.” He holds me close and I breathe him in, letting his warmth flow into me. Reaching up, I loop my arms around his neck, pressing my face into his skin, wanting to get closer because I can’t seem to get close enough. His arms tighten around me, and I can feel him trembling. When my hand brushes his cheek, it comes away wet with his tears. We cling to each other until Lucas finally leans back to look at me.
“You did it. You took his power?” he asks, his eyes flicking briefly to my father lying motionless on the floor.
I blink away the wetness blurring my vision. “I took everything. He’s dead.”
His eyes widen as they stare at my father’s body. When they focus on me again, I see relief and concern for me. His hands come up to cradle my wet cheeks. “Good,” he says. Then he kisses my lips, and I know I’ll never regret what I did.
THE ASSHOLE that shot me looks like a lost puppy. “What now?” he mutters to himself, staring down at the body on the floor.
“Now you run,” I say, rubbing the sore spot on my chest. “Before she does the same thing to you.”
He blinks at us. Then the bodyguard turns on his heel and disappears faster than I figured a hulking sack of shit like him could move.
Raielle is still shivering beside me, and I’m choked with emotion. I’m so proud of her and so in love with her that I can barely breathe. I’m alive, thanks to Raielle, and other than feeling like an elephant spent most of the day sitting on my chest, I’m filled with renewed hope for us. But I can’t even crack a smile because she looks like hell. She saved my life, but ended up killing her own father. I still don’t know how that happened, and right now she isn’t talking.
“Let’s go,” she says, tugging on my arm, leading the way out of the room.
As we make our way down the hallway, opening each door we pass because Raielle wants to find the little girl named Kaylie, we’re surprised to see that no one is here. Her father was bluffing. The clinic is empty. Finally, we open the last door near the stairwell to find Grant sitting on a bed with his head in his hands. He glances up at us, and his shock is apparent as he takes us in. We’re both covered in my blood, and it’s starting to dry, making my shirt cold and stiff.
“What the fuck happened?” he asks, getting to his feet.
Beside me, Raielle takes a deep breath and opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.
“John is dead,” I say.
He looks to Raielle for confirmation. She nods.
“How?” he asks, his wide eyes traveling between us.
I’m about to tell him that it doesn’t matter, when Raielle finds her voice. “He had a heart attack.” Her tone is even, but the sound is nothing more than a dull rasp. She pulls on my arm and takes a step toward the door that leads outside.
Grant’s face wrinkles in disbelief.
“He’s in there.” I point over my shoulder. “There’s a lot of blood, but it’s all mine.”
His mouth works silently, as though he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t.
I lay my hand on Raielle’s shoulder to reassure her because she looks like a trapped animal, desperate to get out of its cage. Then I turn back to Grant. “We’re going home. Can you take care of things here?”
He wants to object, to hear more details, but as he studies her, worry wrinkles his brow and he nods. Then he points to the phone sitting on the nurse’s desk. “I’ll call you a cab. Here, take my shirt. You’ll never get a ride looking like that.” He pulls his gray T-shirt over his head and hands it to me.
I peel mine off, grimacing at the way it sticks to my skin. Then I pull Raielle’s blood-stained sweater off her. The T-shirt she has on underneath is clean.
“I’ll go upstairs and punch in the gate code for the taxi. We’ll talk later,” Grant tells me pointedly. Then he eyes Raielle again. She’s just standing there, looking dazed. “Is she going to be okay?”
“She’ll be fine,” I reply, and I hope I’m right.
I lead her outside, securing her beside me as we climb the hill up to the driveway. Then we stand in the cool night air, waiting. She’s silent as her body leans into mine. The shaking has subsided, and now she seems drowsy as she sways on her feet. I look around, scanning the area for Shane or those guards, but we seem to be the only ones out here.
Soon we hear the sound of crunching gravel. Glancing at my watch, I see it’s nearly midnight. I practically have to pick Raielle up to get her into the cab. I give the driver my address and sit back, cradling her in my arms. She reaches around my neck and burrows her face into my shoulder.
I looked for it on the way in, but I check again now. My truck, which I left sitting just outside the gate, is gone. I didn’t see it up at the house either. It probably got towed.
The streets are quiet, and we get home in no time. The driver tells me the fare has been taken care of, so I pick up a sleeping Raielle, push the door closed with my foot, and carry her inside. Since I have no money on me, no wallet and no phone, it’s a good thing Grant thought of that.
It’s a little tricky, balancing her and getting the front door unlocked, but she hardly stirs. I see that Cal’s door is closed as I walk by, and I figure he’s asleep already. When I finally lay her down on my bed, she whimpers softly before curling in on herself.
Stepping back, the sight of her lying there all alone breaks my heart. I planned to shower the dried blood off my skin, but I can’t leave her for that long. I settle for changing into sweats and my own T-shirt before lightly tugging Raielle’s jeans down her legs and crawling in beside her, pulling the comforter up over us. I hug her body in close to mine and bend her head into the crook of my neck, where she likes to rest it when we sleep.
The moment my eyes close, the night comes back at me in flashes. I recall the look on her face before she healed me. Complete and utter despair were all I saw. At first, I couldn’t understand why she looked like she was losing me. But then I remembered how Grant couldn’t heal the slice in his arm when she drained his power. That’s what the desperation in her eyes meant. I had more than a slice in my arm. So I told her it was okay, even though it wasn’t. I’d failed her. She was at the mercy of her father, and there was nothing I could do to help her.
My eyes squeeze tight at the thought of what could have happened. I shift restlessly, unwilling to go there, not wanting to give that nightmare substance because it didn’t happen. Somehow Raielle managed to save us both. What will it do to her, though?
In the end, she did what she begged Grant and me not to. When she wakes up in the morning, how will she feel about it? I want to believe it’s over. Her father is gone. This is what we needed to move on with our lives. But can she move on from this, or will she go back to being the ghost of a girl I found when I first got here? My hand goes to my chest and I rub at the spot that aches, knowing that ache will never go away if Raielle can’t recover from this.
She shifts, curling into my side. I nuzzle my nose in her hair, listening to her quiet, even breaths as I start to think that running away to New York with me may not
be the best thing for her. With her father out of the picture, she could finally be free to do all the things she’s felt compelled to do her whole life. She doesn’t have to hide anymore. She could become part of a community with others who are like her. I recall Meera’s words about her destiny, and I think of how alone she’s always been.
As much as I want the fresh start we talked about, I’m not sure that’s right for her now. If she stays here, maybe she could feel normal for the first time in her life. Maybe she could find a way to be happy.
I COME awake slowly, squinting at the light filtering through the blinds. My head feels fuzzy, as I try to figure out where I am. Lucas’s hand touches my forehead and brushes my hair back from my face.
“Hey,” he says softly.
My eyes focus to find him sitting beside me. Then all at once, I remember everything. I push up and look around.
“We’re at my place.”
My mind races over every detail as my heart squeezes tight. “He’s…” I begin.
“Gone,” Lucas finishes for me.
I pull in low breath, letting the truth of it settle over me. Lucas is watching me closely. The weight of his thoughts sits heavy on his shoulders, and the remaining pain he still feels calls to me. Reaching out to him, I press my hand to his chest.
A brief smile pulls at his lips as he leans away.
I eye him curiously because I know it hurts. “Let me help with the soreness.”
He takes my hand and holds it. “You still look wiped out. No healing today.” His gaze stays on me. “How are you feeling?”
I know what he’s thinking. He thinks I’m going to fall apart because of what I did to my father. But if I do fall apart, that won’t be the reason. “I’m fine,” I assure him. I’ll be fine as long as I don’t dwell on how close I came to losing Lucas.
