by Yvonne Heidt
The man-spirit chuckled. “No, not an angel.” He turned his torso, and Shade saw a large gaping wound in his side, his ribs stuck out like cactus spikes. “I’m your father.”
Shade remembered screaming. Screaming. Screaming.
But no one had come to help her.
“That’s what you keep buried,” Phaedra said.
Shade felt buried under Lacey’s sorrow, the grief of a child who was broken, naked, huddled in a bathtub—with nothing and no one to comfort her.
Sharp, stabbing pains around her heart overrode the agony in her spine. They didn’t appear to be leveling off; they only got more intense, until she could hardly breathe through them. Shade wondered if this was it. Now she could finally die.
Were these memories her life review? Sucked pretty bad if that’s the only memory she had to relive. Where was her happy shit?
The pain reached a red, then white, level. Regret and anguish overwhelmed her.
She’d only wanted not to hate herself and have someone who could love her.
Shade closed her eyes. The tears she’d held back for an eternity slipped out, and the warmth of their trail heated her cheeks. From behind her lids, a bright light appeared.
A clean and pure glow, one she hadn’t seen since she’d dropped into this hell.
Lacey.
The word was a whisper in the back of her mind and said with love, no mockery attached. Through the bright light, her father’s features became visible, but not the shot and bloody version she’d seen as a child.
This time he stood tall, bathed in white, and surrounded by a bright yellow glow. Shade knew he was at peace, not stuck in the land of the dead and guilty.
“Sweetheart,” her father said. “It’s time to let go.”
Shade was enthralled by his voice, not merely mortal, but with a background of beautiful music. Her pain slipped away, and she felt light.
“The only way out, honey, is through it.” Her father smiled, and she remembered his bawdy and loud laugh when she was a child rocking on his lap. A thousand smiles, the way he tucked her in at night before the fighting with her mother started.
Her father had loved her. She’d been loved.
Shade felt her heart skip with the effort it was taking to pump her blood. Slow and sluggish, it beat four hard times.
In the distance, an alarm sounded, screeching, insistent, but Shade ignored it.
Instead, she took her father’s hand—and stepped into the light.
*
Raven didn’t remember the ride to the hospital—nor did she feel the last two of her thirty-three stitches. She needed to get up to the third floor to Shade.
When she’d been thrown back into her body, the dark, heavy energy in the room had overpowered the burning ritual herbs and made it difficult to breathe. She had tried to scream, but couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. She became aware of her family’s frantic activity inside the circle and around her, so she knew she was safe. Her mother wiped her face with a cool cloth, while her aunt held her from behind.
It took her several minutes to come all the way back to her physical body, at which time she became aware her left shoulder and breast were on fire. She had looked down to see three long, angry red slashes ripping diagonally through her skin from her shoulder to the top of her midriff. Her sister, Starling, packed the wound with homemade salve, a mixture that soothed the burn, but did little to settle her nerves. She’d impatiently batted her away. “I need some room.”
“Mama,” Starling said. “They won’t stop bleeding.”
Raven recalled being lightheaded from the coppery scent of her blood, and the amount covering her white ritual outfit had been alarming. She looked at her mother and aunt whose concern was palpable. But when she saw her brother Hawk’s face, the obvious distress he was in nearly undid her.
Raven’s head felt too heavy for her neck, and she remembered falling backward against her aunt while her siblings were yelling around her.
She had come to in the emergency room where her mother lied with a straight face to the admission nurse, and told her Raven had cut herself trying to climb through a broken chain link fence.
The wounds were bloody, jagged around the edges, and when the attending nurse asked if she wasn’t a little old to be climbing through fences, Raven ignored her.
The second the last knot was tied, Raven jumped to her feet, causing chaos in the room as she put her shirt on and ran for the bank of elevators. On the ride, she felt a tremendous tear to her psyche, the spell she’d woven to connect her with Shade was being ripped from her chest.
The door slid open and she cut to the left. When she saw the commotion at the end of the hall, her stomach sank and she cried out. Sunny, Aura, and Tiffany were being pushed into the corridor, and the crash cart was going into Shade’s room.
Raven reached the doorway, clutched Aura, and watched as the horrible finality of the long red line flattened in tandem with the excruciating sound of the alarms.
It was too much for her to bear. She backed up to the wall outside the room and slid down it.
Her flight and injuries were for nothing. What she was left with was a huge, gaping hole where Shade’s essence had been.
Shade was gone.
Chapter Nine
Two days later
Shade opened her eyes, blinking several times to clear her blurred vision. The last two days had been a haze, and she hadn’t been lucid enough to talk with anyone. She remembered being aware her sisters had been there, but she hadn’t been able to stay awake long enough to talk to them much. She vaguely recalled the small army of nurses, doctors, and other folks dressed in standard hospital gear. There were mumbled conversations about what might be permanent damage to her spine. Now, she thought it was fitting that the first person she had a clear head to talk with was Sunny.
Sunny smiled down at her. “Hello, sweetheart. Are you awake?”
Raw emotion washed over Shade’s body, as it had non-stop over the last two days. Somehow she’d made it out of the cave and into a hospital. Her back was in some kind of brace, which was why she hadn’t been able to move. It would take time to absorb everything. She still remembered everything that happened there. It was all burned into her aching, shredded soul.
Right now was not the time to relive it.
The only way back is through, her father had told her. She’d had to die to come back.
“Hey,” she said, more of a croak than a word. “I’m here.”
“You gave us quite a scare.” Sunny smiled. “Are you well enough to talk?”
“Yes.”
Sunny’s tears flowed down her cheeks as she leaned over to kiss Shade on the forehead. “I thought I lost you. I don’t know what I would have done if you’d died.”
“You have Jordan.” Shade couldn’t believe the obvious resentment popped out of her mouth. That wasn’t what she meant to say at all. The worry and stress were evident on Sunny’s face, and Shade was truly sorry she was so careless with her words.
Sunny stood straight. “Really? You’re going to bring that up now? Goddamn it, Shade—you piss me off.”
Nothing new, Shade thought. She tried to grin, play it off as if she weren’t hurt—but seemingly, she’d crossed Sunny’s invisible boundary line—and like many of those boundaries, only Sunny knew where they lay on any given day. Temper flared from her, and Shade could almost see the anger sparking off her aura. This was going to be serious.
“I love you,” Sunny said.
“No,” Shade said. “You used to love me.” Again, Shade thought, with the no filter response, what was wrong with her? The words flew out before she’d even had a thought to say them.
“I’ve loved you since we were eleven years old. Why are you being such an asshole?”
Shade was surprised. Sunny hardly ever called her names. She tightened her lips to keep more words from popping out.
“Are you that self-absorbed? I never stopped caring. And you know it.
You’re my best friend, and it hurts tremendously to know you still hold that against me. How long are you going to punish me? Can you give me a date? An estimate maybe?”
“I’m not—”
“Listen here, I’m done being punished by you. I can’t help that we couldn’t be together. Do you know what that did to me? To feel and soak up your pain every day and know I was the one who caused it? To love you and know that my friendship wasn’t enough for you? You suffocated me, Shade, and then refused to acknowledge it, to even consider my pain during our breakup.”
Shade tried to interject. “I—”
Sunny was stalking around the room and didn’t hear her; she just kept talking. “Have you ever tried to let go, even once? To give someone else a chance to see the awesome person you are—when you’re not feeling sorry for yourself?”
Sunny answered her own question and pointed at Shade. “Noooo,” she said, sarcastically drawing the word out into several syllables. “You choose to wallow in it and project your arrogance onto every person you come in contact with.”
The night nurse, Mary, entered the room. “Is there a problem in here, ladies?”
Shade watched Sunny blush.
“No,” Sunny said and looked down at the floor. “I’m very sorry.”
“Please keep it down. There are other patients trying to rest.”
Shade tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a bark instead. “Of course they’re resting. They’re in fucking comas.”
Mary tried to keep a straight face, but Shade saw the corner of her mouth twitch. “Please,” she said.
“Oh,” Sunny said and turned to face Shade. “I was just awful! I’m sorry I yelled at you.”
“I’m sorry I suffocated you. Hey, give me a break here. I just came back from the dead two days ago.”
Sunny sat in the chair. “Of course. I have no idea where that came from. I apologize that the first words you heard from me were awful.”
“I do,” Shade said. “Know where that came from, I mean, and you’re right. It’s been my problem all along. I love you, Sunny, and I’ve used it as a weapon against you for years. I’m sorry for taking you as an emotional hostage.” Shade’s throat felt like sandpaper as she uttered the apology, but even as she said it, she felt a weight leave her shoulders. Only days out of a coma, and she was apologizing for pretty much her whole life. “That needed to be said for far too long.”
“I forgive you.” Sunny patted her hand. “And I’ll always love you.”
Shade loved that Sunny’s storms of temper always left as quickly as they blew in. Her touch tingled along her skin, and with the contact, Shade was surprised at the shift in Sunny’s energy. Or maybe it was the way Shade’s perception had changed. What she didn’t feel was the hurtful longing she was used to.
Shade wanted to think more about that, but she was exhausted. There was a part of her that was terrified to close her eyes, though. Maybe she wouldn’t wake up this time, maybe she’d end up back in the tunnel, back under Phaedra. She quickly realized that wanting to stay awake wouldn’t keep her from falling back asleep, because when she blinked, she couldn’t keep herself from sliding back under. Sunny’s hand closed over hers, and she let go.
*
Shade felt her, smelled her, before she opened her eyes and found her sitting in the chair next to the bed.
Raven was curled up with her legs tucked under her, breathing softly with one hand resting on the bed near Shade’s, that intoxicating scent wafting around her. She still couldn’t define the scent. The ingredients weren’t anything she could use her senses to identify, but she knew she wanted to wrap herself around the source and stay there.
She took the time to study Raven’s features but stayed still so she didn’t wake her. Everything about Raven appeared to be soft and curvy. What didn’t show in her appearance was the incredible bravery she possessed. That she’d ignored Shade’s horrible behavior toward her, and sought to save her anyway, at great peril to herself. It was humbling, and it made Shade ache.
A muscle in her back twitched, and Shade gasped at the pain that shot down her legs.
Raven didn’t stir.
Shade inhaled quietly through the pain and became aware of what her right hand was holding.
A small plastic wand that fit in her palm. She pushed the red button on top with her thumb and felt an immediate, answering rush of relief hit her system.
Respite from the constant pain in her back, a release from the emotions that threatened to drown her every time she woke, the permission to feel good despite herself; she’d died, and life was different on every level.
Raven shifted and opened her eyes, unerringly looking into Shade’s. “You’re awake.”
Shade nodded. “You don’t have to sleep here.”
“Yes, I do.” Raven sat up and raked her fingers through her tangled hair.
“Why?” Shade whispered. The moment felt heavy. She could hear the squeak of rubber soles in the hallway outside the door, the rhythmic beeping of machines accentuating the stillness and expectation around them.
“I wanted to.”
There went that lump again, the one that tightened her throat and squeezed her lungs, making it difficult to breathe. Shade frantically pushed the morphine button again.
Nothing. Fuck. A timer.
Raven put her hand over Shade’s, and the contrast between her dark tan skin against Shade’s pale, almost translucent skin, brought the reasons back. Raven was beautiful, healthy, and young.
Shade was not.
Even if she forgot that, Shade’s emotions were irreparably broken, and she saw dead people. And if she managed to put that aside, for even a second, there still remained the possibility she might be paralyzed for life from her injuries.
Shade closed her eyes and felt Raven’s hair tickle her face before she kissed her forehead. It was such a heartbreakingly tender gesture, Shade felt the corners of her eyes burn.
She could not—would not—give in to this feeling. It was against everything she’d trained herself for. Sunny’s words came back to her, reminding Shade of her sharp accusations. Had she really punished her all those years? It had never been her conscious decision to do so.
Yet, hindsight showed how grief had become the self-entitled arrogance that Shade had held on to come hell or high water. The weight crushed her chest, and again, she pushed the damn button.
Crap, still nothing.
Shade had no choice but to feel the emotions she’d handed out to others. The shame covered her like a wet wool blanket, and she retched with the force of it.
Raven jumped up to get a bowl and brought a cold washrag with it. She laid it on the back of Shade’s neck and made soft murmuring sounds. The kind Shade had never heard during her childhood.
Wasn’t there something wrong with Raven comforting her like a mother? Shade was more than a decade older, and tough, damn it.
Memory after memory slammed her while she dry heaved over the plastic bowl. Shade was sure she wanted to die. It would hurt far less than all this feeling shit.
When her stomach felt as if it had turned inside out, she sank back into her pillows, emptied physically and emotionally. Raven continued to stroke her with the wet cloth, and Shade wanted to give in to the soothing caresses, but her guilt wouldn’t allow it. She gripped the plastic wand as if someone was going to take it away.
She pushed it again.
It worked, and she was released from emotional purgatory. The burden of feeling was lifted. Shade made a humming sound in the back of her throat.
“It’s the drug that’s making you sick,” Raven said.
“Mmm?” Shade heard her but couldn’t reply out loud, as she felt as if she were floating three feet above her body. Oh no. Not sick, sweetheart—better. Through the haze, she could still feel Raven’s hair against her skin, and she inhaled her scent again. The stench of death in the hospital disappeared.
Raven was so clean, so fresh.
So be
yond what she deserved.
Shade sighed, full of chemical contentment. The last thing she was aware of was Raven adjusting the covers around her.
*
Raven returned to Shade’s room after getting another cup of horrible coffee from the nurse’s station. It was too strong, but she was grateful for it anyway. The nights she spent here now weren’t as hard as when Shade was in the coma. The not knowing, and not being able to help, was the worst part of the journey.
At least now, while she sat here and listened to her breathe, she knew Shade would eventually wake up and talk for a few minutes.
Raven had so much to tell her, to share with her. But she also wanted Shade to have full function of her cognitive abilities while she did so. She needed her awake, alert, and the morphine out of Shade’s system before she could really talk to her about them being together.
Though it shamed her, she resented sharing Shade with Tiffany and Sunny. Raven couldn’t help it; she wanted Shade to herself. She wasn’t trying to be selfish, but every moment she had to leave Shade’s side was hard, and they both wanted bits of time alone with her.
Sunny and Tiffany talked to Shade about things and memories Raven didn’t share, and she felt left out. Logically, Raven knew it was unreasonable, but still she wouldn’t lie to herself, and not acknowledge that it also hurt.
Yesterday, a woman named Sylvia had come in, and before Raven could ask who she was, Tiffany had walked into the room, whispered something to Kat, and they both escorted her out of the room.
When Raven asked, Tiffany refused to explain. It was hard to let stuff like that go, but the loyalty Tiffany held for Shade kept her silent. It was the not knowing part that made it worse, because it left the missing details up to Raven’s very colorful and active imagination to fill in the blanks.
Raven set her coffee on the moveable tray and crossed to Shade’s right side. Her fingers were clenched around the device that kept taking her away. Raven took care, managed to remove it, and lay it on the edge of the bed, still within reach, but not so automatically accessible.
